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scribbling-dragon · 8 months

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a gift, from me to you

summary:

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?” “I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners. “Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.” [Or: Jimmy gets a hat for Tango]

(ao3 link)

(5,157 words)

Jimmy pauses, frowning as the sound of shouting outside only continues to increase in volume. He had hoped that ignoring it for this long would be enough for the simmering flame of a fight to die down. That fight has apparently sparked into a blaze, as a fourth voice joins the fray.

He casts a mournful glance over towards Tango, hoping that his partner and newly promoted second-Sheriff might take initiative and attempt to solve the problem.

“I'm not their beloved Sheriff,” Tango says, not even looking up – he’s not even doing work! He’s tinkering with some little…metal thing, poking and prodding at it.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You didn’t need to,” Tango glances up at him for a moment, eyes alight with amusement as he takes in Jimmy’s appearance. He looks back down a second later, pulling a copper-redstone wire between his claws, before poking around in the metal thing’s insides.

…Maybe it’s better for his safety to go and defuse the argument. Outside. Away from the potentially explosive trinket that Tango has brought to their office this time.

He sighs and stands up, feeling far more tired than he reasonably should be – the sun is only beginning to descend from its zenith and the cooler air should make him feel more energetic.

He doesn’t.

Instead, he fumbles around, reaching for his hat where he’d tossed it off earlier. Only to frown as his hand comes up empty, landing on cool wood instead. He turns his head, already frowning as he tries to figure out which corner of his desk he tossed his hat onto this time.

It’s not there.

He stands there for longer than he’d like to admit to, simply staring at his empty desk – okay, maybe not empty with all the clutter littering his desk. But he can find everything! It’s an organised chaos, and sure, things go missing temporarily but he always manages to find it in the end.

The shouting outside reaches a new peak, and there’s the sound of something heavy being overturned.

“Tango, have you seen my hat?” his voice comes out a little bit panicked, mostly because there seems to be actual destruction going on outside, but also partially because his hat has gone missing. What is a Sheriff without their hat? Not a Sheriff at all, that’s what!

“Mm.” Tango still sounds amused, which isn’t unusual but is maybe a little inappropriate right now. Another thing crashes and he winces. “Why don't you tell me?” Tango’s voice is pleased, something that makes Jimmy’s sixth sense (specifically related to Tango and him doing something that he shouldn’t be) light up, prickling along the back of his neck.

He turns back to face Tango. Tango, who is still tinkering away with his little trinket, poking around in its insides. Tango, who is currently wearing his hat.

“Ah,” he frowns. His hat is a little too big for Tango’s head, and he’s got it tipped too far forward so the brim is drooping over most of his face. “Can I have it?”

Tango tilts his head back, far enough that he looks like he’s going to tip out of his chair. The sounds of destruction outside have died down for now, at least. He’s still anxious to get out there and resolve whatever petty conflict escalated this far.

“Please,” he adds, noticing Tango’s raised eyebrow.

“Of course, dearest.” Tango says, but he doesn’t offer the hat out for him. Nor does he take it off. “Can’t have the darling Sheriff spotted without his hat, hm?”

Tango’s eyes shine teasingly, and Jimmy understands just what Tango is angling for as he steps forward and that pleased grin curls up even further. He sighs, shaking his head in fond amusement as the sounds of argument die down into a more civil discussion. He still needs to figure out what they’ve managed to damage, unfortunately, even if they seem to have resolved the argument by themselves.

“Thank you,” he plucks the hat from Tango’s head, completely missing when tango snakes his arms out, wrapping around his waist and pulling him forward. That, coupled with Tango’s tail wrapping tightly around his legs means he almost falls directly onto his partner.

“They’ve resolved it themselves,” Tango tells him, even as Jimmy rights the hat on his head. Where it belongs. He continues to hold onto him, thumbs resting just above his hip bones, trinket seemingly forgotten about, discarded on Tango’s desk. “There’s no point in running out there and demanding answers, hm?”

“I need to find out what they were tossing about. And why.”

He doesn’t even bother to try and free himself from Tango’s grip. The man is like an overly clingy octopus on some days, reluctant to release Jimmy and let him go about his day without a shadow following his every footstep. He had thought today was one of the days where Tango seemed to forget anyone else existed other than him, but he seemed to just be biding his time until Jimmy got close enough to be captured.

He sighs, though he cannot deny it’s overwhelmingly fond. If any of their friends were here right now, Jimmy is certain they’d be gagging and turning away, as though they were doing something far worse than hugging.

“C’mon, I’ll be back in a second.”

Tango pauses for a moment, then hums once and releases him.

“There, see? Look, I’ll even give this to you to look after until I'm back.”

Before he can think any further on it, before he can think enough to decide it’s actually a bad idea, he takes his hat off again and plonks it onto Tango’s head. He then turns and escapes the office as fast as he can, ignoring Tango’s confused little sound and resisting the urge to look back and see what expression he’s pulling.

He then gives in and sneaks a glance.

Okay, maybe giving the hat back was more for his own benefit than Tango’s. Sue him! He didn’t realise that Tango actually suited a hat, alright?! How could he, when the only time Tango has worn a hat before was in the dark, and Jimmy was far too preoccupied with getting said hat back from his partner’s sticky fingers.

His eyes linger a little longer than appropriate on Tango before he forcefully turns himself around and marches into the street to sort out whatever stupid, petty argument someone’s had today. One that warranted shoving someone’s cart hard enough to topple the whole thing over.

His heart isn’t really in reprimanding them, even if they look like a pair of guilty children than have been found painting the walls. Instead, he’s far more focused on the beginnings of an idea that are coming together in his mind.

===

Scott appreciates the quiet nights. The ones that have plenty of patrons, but none of his more rowdy ones. The ones that like to cause trouble, the ones that come here looking for trouble. Most of them have been identified and given to the staff so they know to be wary when those customers come knocking.

He could just outright ban him – the Sheriff has pleaded with him several times to just ban them rather than forcing him to ride all the way from the mesa because they’ve decided to start a fight and Scott cannot be bothered to sort it himself. But a paying customer is a paying customer, and most of them have the good decency to go outside before they start fighting, greatly reducing his expenses for replacing broken glasses.

Perhaps it was his own fault for even daring to utter ‘quiet’ in the privacy of his own mind. Maybe there’s some god out there that read his thoughts and decided to shove this particular problem in his direction, for him to deal with, just for the gall to enjoy a nice, slow evening.

His first warning of the incoming visitor is when someone hurries into the tavern on near-silent feet, but every single one of his shadier patrons perks up at her entrance.

Scott watches her too, well-aware that there is often some kind of lookout watching for any kind of law enforcement when some kind of deal is going on. He grits his teeth. Which means that someone is doing deals in his tavern without his permission.

He sets the clean glass down on the counter and raises a singular eyebrow at the group highest on his suspect list.

He’s had issues with them in previous months, where they didn’t want to pay the pocket change they owed him because he let them make dealings inside his tavern. He charges a fair price for the business he allows behind closed doors, for someone to even attempt to scam him? They're lucky he didn’t do something worse than what he did.

He jerks his head towards the door, keeping his eye very firmly fixed on the leader of that group. The entire table vanishes, scrambling out the door.

A few other patrons leave as the news about the Sheriff’s impending arrival reaches more and more ears.

He watches them go, more than a little bitter that the Sheriff is chasing his business away. Whatever he wants, it better be good.

He raises an eyebrow when the Sheriff finally enters, clutching something close to his chest as he makes an immediate beeline for him. Several pairs of eyes follow him across the tavern, people beginning to relax once they realise that the Sheriff is here for Scott rather than any of his patrons.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Scott,” the Sheriff greets, not even having the manners to return his cordial greeting. “I need you to do something for me.”

“Oh?” He blinks as the Sheriff slams whatever he was clutching down onto the bar countertop, spreading the paper out so Scott can see the scribbles on the surface. “I wasn’t aware you were interested in leatherworking.” Slightly ironic, seeing as the Sheriff has a tiny relation to the same animals this leather is taken from. Not that it seems to bother him, what with the leather hat and leather jacket.

“I'm not.”

“Pray tell, then, what is it you want me to do?”

“I want you to make this.” The Sheriff taps on the design detailing the measurements and everything else he wants. “Please,” he adds, seemingly remembering his manners.

“Mm.” Scott pretends to consider it. “I’ll see what I can do for you, lover boy.”

“I- what did you call me?”

“You heard me,” Scott grins. “Of course, I'm assuming you're going to pay me for this, yes? My skills with…this are much sought after. I wouldn’t want it to come to light that the darling Sheriff was…extorting his friends, hm?”

“Of course I’ll pay you. Name your price.”

“He really does have you wrapped around his finger. You, my dear Sheriff, are an absolute sucker.”

The Sheriff ignores him. A valiant effort. “When will it be ready for me to pick up?”

“Give me a week.” He holds his hand out, “Half of the payment now, and half then. Have we got a deal?” He wiggles his fingers teasingly, waiting for the Sheriff to take his hand and seal the deal. He gets a sour look instead. Ah, too smart for those tricks, it seems. He lowers his hand again, only mildly disappointed.

“How much do I owe you?”

===

“You're acting weird.”

“What?” Jimmy says, in a weird, not at all normal voice. “No I'm not!”

Tango stops and stares at him. He hopes his face correctly conveys enough of the what the hell and you're joking, right? sentiment he was going for. Jimmy winces and looks guilty, so he’ll call that a mission success.

“Did you break something?” he asks. Maybe Jimmy went poking around in his workshop again and found something – it wouldn’t be the first time that he’s accidentally broken one of Tango’s projects, and it probably won’t be the last time.

He can’t find it in himself to care when Jimmy does break some of his inventions, either, as he can just piece them back together. What’s the point in making something that he wouldn’t be able to fix if it broke? Plus, most of them are hastily cobbled together from scraps when the inspiration struck him, and then promptly abandoned.

“Ah, no I didn’t break anything.” Jimmy shakes his head hard enough that Tango momentarily worries that it’s going to unscrew itself and fly away. It doesn’t, thankfully. “I just…have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

He loves surprises. Especially ones that he gets to find out immediately – the suspense kills him every single time, meaning if he has to wait for longer than a few hours, maybe a day at most, to find out what it is, he might just combust. Sometimes literally.

“Yes,” Jimmy laughs, his eyes squinting shut. Tango grins up at him, not caring that Jimmy’s giggling at his enthusiasm, because the laugh isn’t mean, just excited and endeared. “It’s at home.”

“And what is it that you’ve gotten me?”

“You have to wait,” Jimmy pushes at his shoulder. “That’s the point of a surprise.”

“But you could just tell me now, couldn’t you?” Tango teases. “I'm about to find out in a second, what’s the point of waiting – I’ll have the same reaction all over again when you show it to me, I promise.”

“Just go look,” Jimmy says with a laugh, pushing him through their front door.

“Alright, alright…” he stops. And he stares. And stares…and stares a little more. “Huh.” Is what he manages to say when everything seems to have resettled in his mind, clicking mostly back into the right places.

“Do you not like it? It’s fine if you don't, I just thought that-”

“Shut up,” Tango tells him, and then decides that’s not enough and kisses him instead. “Thank you,” he says when he pulls back. He would normally linger in a moment like that for longer, but his hands are itching to pick the hat up and run his hands over the leather.

“I love it,” he tells Jimmy, when the hat is comfortably resting on his head. It has little leather dangling bits around the brim which sway back and forth when he moves. He wobbles his head, just to make them swish. “I love you.”

“Ah, Tango!” Jimmy covers his face with his hands. “Gods, warn a guy before you say something like that next time?”

“But you go so red every time I do! How can I resist!”

He wobbles his head again, just to watch the tassels swing. Damn. He can see why Jimmy likes his hat, this thing makes him feel important.

===

Time is the best solution for any malady, just…leave something alone for long enough and everything should sort itself out all nice.

So why is it that he still dreads the flight up to Stratos? It’s a short flight, one that barely takes a few seconds, one that starts in the village flourishing in the shadow of the citadel above, and ends with his hooves touching down on the grass outlining the main pathways of the island.

The gold of the citadel is blindingly bright this early in the morning, everything turning molten in the sunlight. The quartz reflects the light equally bright, and it forces him to squint his eyes against the light.

He’s going to blame his shoddy landing on his half-closed eyes, attempting to not blind himself this meeting. He stumbles, the tip of on hoof catching on the very edge of the island and sending him forward, grasping for his balance again. Tango catches his elbow and pulls him back upright, thankfully before he can make even more of a fool of himself and do something stupid like fall on his face, though it’s not done without a snicker.

“Sorry, sorry,” Tango looks away, tilting his new hat down over his face so Jimmy can’t see it as well. He can still see well enough to spot the barely repressed grin, even as the leather tassels drift about his face and cast an even deeper shadow. His ears flick a few times as the leather strips bump into them, brushing over the short fur, Tango obviously still unused to wearing the hat and all the accessories that come with it. “I'm not laughing. Promise.”

“I can see you grinning.”

Tango’s apology would have been far more convincing if he couldn’t see the way Tango’s ears continue to tremble, even after the leather strips stop irritating them, shaking with the repressed giggles that Tango is biting back.

“No, you can’t.” Tango turns his face even further away, warm hand slipping away from Jimmy’s elbow as he tugs his hat down, lower over his face. His tail continues to flick back and forth, betraying his continued amusement at Jimmy’s expense, flames sputtering in time with his silent laughs.

“It’s really not that funny,” he complains. And maybe he’s whining a little bit, but it makes Tango turn back to him, amused gleam continuing to shine in his eyes. “I don't make fun of you for hiding from the rain!”

“You don't, you don't,” Tango huffs out a laugh, then turns to properly face him once more. “C’mon, best we get this over with, yeah?”

Jimmy clicks his tongue at Tango’s blatant dislike for Joel. “We’re allies now,” he reminds. It’s a tentative alliance, for sure, but it’s an alliance nonetheless. He doesn’t have many of those, and having a god (no matter how egotistical that god is) on his side – their side – is comforting. Even if it means getting up at the worst possible times because the god seems to rise with the goddamn sun.

He pulls Tango back when he goes to walk away, ignoring the confused, inquisitive noise that Tango makes when he pulls him around to look at his face.

He stares at Tango for several long moments, hand resting on the juncture between Tango’s shoulder and neck. He brushes his hand up and adjusts Tango’s hat, so it’s not covering his face so much anymore.

He can’t help but linger for a moment, the back of his hand grazing against Tango’s cheek. “There,” he pats Tango’s cheek, “much better like that. Now,” he takes the lead, “remember to be polite.”

“Oh, you wanna talk?” Tango scoffs a laugh, turning to chase after him. Jimmy’s face still feels a little warm from staring longingly into Tango’s eyes for several long moments just seconds ago. And…maybe Tango’s a little right, yeah, maybe most of their trade agreements and whatnot are spent trying to figure out what petty jab to use next, and when to use it for maximum effect.

Tango’s told him several times that he should be the bigger person and not to return the jabs, that only encourages him! But Jimmy has also watched Tango, the biggest advocator for maintaining a professional persona while working and also the biggest hypocrite he knows, make several rude and aggressive gestures at Joel’s back the moment the god turns away.

…He’s beginning to see why most of the times he managed to arrest Tango was after he had been ganged up on by other bandits.

“And being allies,” he continues, ignoring Tango. “Means that we need to be courteous.”

“He’s not here yet,” Tango says. “And just you wait, you’ll be eating your words the moment ‘toy’ drops out of his mouth.”

Jimmy doesn’t have a responding argument for that. Mostly because Tango is right and also because they’ve just arrived at the arranged meeting spot. The arranged meeting spot where Joel is already present and ready, probably preparing to shame them for being late by three seconds, or something equally stupid.

And despite the stupidly early hour, Joel is lounging casually and drinking something from a crudely made mug. It’s a far cry from the things Joel makes for himself, let alone deems worthy enough to be used by his holier than thou hands.

The words trip out of his mouth before he can even process anything else about their surroundings: “Did you sit on that mug halfway through making it?” The mug really does look quite squashed, wonky, and with a far too large handle. The handle is larger than the rest of the mug. “Why’d you still stick it in the kiln looking like that?”

It’s meant as an insult. A small thing designed to irritate the god and make him eager to get them out of Stratos as soon as possible. A short meeting with the god is the most desirable kind.

What he didn’t account for, however, is the small child sat just beside Joel. Though, instead of sitting in a chair, he’s seated on the lush grass. Hermes pauses what he was doing – some kind of drawing in a little sketchbook, so similar to the one that Joel carries around with him – to look up.

“Does my mug…look like someone sat on it?”

Shit.

“Not at all.” Joel stares at him, but even the unrelenting gaze promising a slow and painful death doesn’t manage to pull Jimmy’s eyes away from the child’s face, and how Hermes looks as though he might burst into tears at any second.

Shit.

He’s floundering, lost amongst a sea of words and grasping for literally anything that might save him from his fast-approaching death. One that Joel is already constructing in his mind’s eye, raising the executioner’s axe in preparation for the first tears being shed.

“Oh no, no,” his saviour is not some half-baked excuse and apology rolled into one that he managed to come up with to smooth ruffled feathers and assure the child of his incredible pottery skills. Instead, his saviour comes in the form of his wonderful, fantastic and stunning partner stepping up – quite literally.

He crosses the grass in a few strides, shawl flapping around him and flames curling with anxiety. He crouches down beside Hermes, not quite touching the demigod child, but his hands remain hovering over the child’s arms.

“What the Sheriff meant to say,” Jimmy winces, “is that your mug is wonderfully unique! I’ve never before seen such use of angles and lines, and the colours too…”

Tango’s voice trails off, though his mouth continues moving, without words. It takes Jimmy a few moments to process that it is his hearing that has failed him, not that Tango’s silver tongue has given up and left him fumbling for more words to continue comforting the child in front of them.

All that filters through his head is muffled, as though he has dunked his head underwater as everyone else continues to talk around him.

He watches as Hermes brightens beneath Tango’s praise, his uncertain frown transforming into a beaming grin as he begins gesturing wildly, hands flying all over the place. His drawings are abandoned, seemingly forgotten, as he focuses instead on speaking with Tango.

And the latter nods along attentively. If Jimmy’s ears were working properly he’s certain he would hear the way Tango normally hums along when he’s listening to something – he can almost hear the sound, can feel the vibration of it within his own chest, familiar and comforting in its cadence – and he’d be able to hear Tango asking questions, keeping the child engaged and distracted from Jimmy’s earlier shoving-his-foot-in-his-mouth moment.

“Hm,” he tries not to startle at the sudden return of his hearing and the even more sudden appearance of Joel beside him. He didn’t even see the man stand up, let alone make his way over here – get it together Jimmy! Tango might look incredibly endearing and loveable right now, but if this was any other occasion such distraction could be fatal! …Oh, who was he kidding. If this was a lethal situation and Tango revealed that he was good with kids, Jimmy would be a dead man.

“I wouldn’t have thought Tango was so good with children.” Joel echoes his own thoughts exactly. “Did you know this?”

“…No?”

Joel side-eyes him. “You don't sound very certain of yourself.”

Well, not all of us are self-assured, egotistical maniacs.

“Well, I've never seen him interact with children before,” Jimmy says, incredibly diplomatic compared to his original thoughts. “And, apparently,” he gestures at the scene in front of them helplessly, unable to communicate further.

Tango’s gone from kneeling in front of Hermes to sitting beside him, watching as the child flips through his sketchbook and narrates every brushstroke to him.

“Hm.” Joel responds.

It’s an unusually concise response from the god, but he doesn’t have much to say either today, stunned to silence by Tango’s apparent ability to comfort and then entertain a child for longer than five minutes. He’d thought Tango’s skill with children extended to his abilities to deal with babies – non-existent.

“He’s good with kids,” Joel says. “I’ll give him that…say, how much d’you think he’d charge for a babysitting service?”

“You're not paying my partner to babysit your kid. He has more important things to be doing.”

“Haha, I'm sure he does.”

“Don't be disgusting, Hermes is right there.” Joel doesn’t flinch as Jimmy jabs him in the side, only giving him an unimpressed look that just says: you think that would hurt me, mere mortal? Or something equally pretentious.

“I was talking about the obvious signature of getting promoted,” Joel side-eyes him again- seriously, would it kill him to actually look at Jimmy properly for once! “What were you talking about?” He has a grin on his face that Jimmy knows means Joel knows exactly what it is that he was implying, and Joel knows that Jimmy knows this.

He, very maturely, does not rise to the bait.

“You mean the hat.”

“It’s an interesting little thing. You commission Scott to do it?”

“Yeah.” He pauses. “How could you tell?”

“A guess.” Joel glances over at him from the corner of his eye. “Mostly because I know you're an absolute sucker for him and would settle for nothing but the best.”

“I am not a sucker for him-”

“Oh, look,” Joel interrupts him. “He’s letting Hermes try the hat on.”

What?

He looks over to the scene he’d momentarily dismissed in order to argue with Joel properly, pausing as he takes it in. He watches Tango laugh when the hat slips over Hermes’ face and makes it disappear completely.

His eyes go all squinty as he laughs, the creases around his eyes only increasing as Hermes lifts the hat to glare at him from beneath it, having to brush aside the leather tassels to actually see him.

It’s an unfairly attractive quality of Tango that Jimmy hadn’t even realised existed until a few minutes ago.

It distracts him throughout the rest of the meeting, especially when Tango chooses to remain sitting on the ground and entertain Hermes for the duration of his and Joel’s discussion over the gunpowder prices, during which Jimmy has to explain why his prices are higher than the unethical creeper farms found on the edges of the mesa – most of which he's working on wiping out.

A few have inevitably fallen through the cracks, but he makes Joel, unwillingly, hand over the details of their locations so he can go hunt them down when he has the chance.

It's a relief, really, to have someone that entertains Hermes throughout the meeting. Where he would normally be sat on Joel’s knee or tugging at his toga for some kind of attention, now he’s content and docile, happy to sketch Tango in that wobbly and rather ugly way that only a child can achieve.

Tango still coos over the drawings Hermes shows him, acting as though he’s been gifted the most precious treasure when Hermes offers out one of said drawings at the end of the meeting, half-hiding behind Joel’s leg as he does so.

It’s only then that Tango manages to reclaim his hat from the child, settling it comfortably back on his head.

“So,” Jimmy says as they touch down into the village below, slowly making their way back to the village stables to collect their horses. “Good with kids?”

“I'm really not,” Tango scoffs. “What, you think I’d tell him to just shove off? You almost made the kid cry, dearest.”

“I didn’t think you’d sit and let him draw you.”

“The kid’s a budding artist,” Tango shrugs. “Who knows, maybe one day he’ll be incredibly famous and this drawing will be worth thousands.” He waves the small piece of paper around. The sketch on it is only recognisable as Tango because of the cat-like ears and the flame-tipped tail. “See, he’s signed it and everything.”

“That is barely legible as his name.” Jimmy says, though he does so with a smile.

“Uh-huh, alright, you wanna talk about you and Joel then? I thought you hated the guy but I look up and you two are laughing together?”

“I don't hate him, I just have a healthy dislike for him,” Jimmy protests. “I wouldn’t ally myself with someone I actively hate! And anyway, I was laughing at him not with him.”

“Sure, sure,” Tango nods along, speaking in a way that means he’s not at all convinced. “Only, I could’ve sworn you two looked like you were friends?”

“We’re not friends!” Jimmy’s protest this time is much louder, gaining the disapproving looks of many nearby villagers. He clamps his mouth shut, ears going hot with embarrassment. “I still don't like him.”

“Okay, alright,” Tango laughs. At his expense! Laughs at his suffering! “Not friends, got it.”

He’s still smiling like he knows something Jimmy doesn’t, though.

Most unfortunate of all is the look Tango sends him a moment later, grin flashing amongst the dark shadow of his hat over his face, eyes glinting dangerously; teasingly.

===

“It’s so stupid,” he bemoans, possibly for the third time, maybe the fourth. He hasn’t really been paying attention to how many times he’s complained, but it’s a few. More than one, at least.

“Uh-huh,” Scott couldn’t sound less interested if he tried. As it is, the tavern is almost completely dark around the two of them – the only two people left inside the building. Correction: only awake and mostly sober people left inside the building. “You’ve mentioned it.”

“And it’s your fault,” he accuses, pointing a finger at Scott’s back. He’s cleaning his glasses – all the man does is clean the glasses behind the bar, it’s like he has nothing better to do!

“My fault?” Scott turns around, cloth and glass still held in his hands. “How is it my fault? I made it all to your specifications, Sheriff. If anything, it’s your fault that Red looks so good in that hat.”

“Noo,” he slowly sinks down to the counter, resting his forehead against the cool wood.

“Shut up.”

#juno.writes #red bandit au #tangotek #jimmy solidarity #trafficshipping #solidaritek #team rancher #team ranchers #tango tek #solidaritygaming #solidarity gaming #empires smp #empiressmp #empires jimmy #empires tango

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tunastime · 4 months

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Love in the Time of Calculation

as promised: the first chapter of the ranchers SEN fic! this fic takes place inside the au I created for Stretching Endless Night. I'm hoping posting this first chapter will actually get me to. write the rest of it. since I've got so much of it written. jazz hands!! enjoy!

In order to continue supplying food for a growing station, Commander Tango Tek, second to the head of engineering on the space station Prometheus, takes a six month study with the Empire-2 station at the behest of his admiral. There, he meets their botanist and horticulturist, Jimmy, a man he's only communicated with in communiques, voice memos, and documents. When they meet for the first time face-to-face, Tango realizes they both have something very interesting in common. In the face of all odds, two androids fall deeply, horribly in love. (6711 words)

Tango flips a switch on his navigation panel.

“It would be funny,” he says, slowly, enunciating as the recorder picks him up. “If I were to start these with some outlandish startdate. I would find it hilarious, I think, but I don’t know how many other people would. So…

Stardate 2105.47: I’ve just made brief contact with the Ring-style Space Station known as the Empire-dash-2. After discussion of docking procedure, I was forwarded the…passkey for the docking sequence and I should be arriving within two hours of my current time. That time is…in hour format…8:07pm. Lookin’ forward to meeting them, as much as they’re probably lookin’ forward to meeting me. I’ve never spoken to them in person—it’s all been electronic. So…it’ll be interesting, to say the least!” He nods, feeling some inclination to sigh—despite there being no way to. Motions he’d learned and copied from his peers.

“Thus begins my month-long stay with E-dash-2. I can only hope some work with hydroponics actually gets me somewhere. They tell me the guy’s a genius, so I’m inclined to believe them.”

Tango jabs his finger against the stop recording button. After a beat, the small, LCD screen flashes SENT in dark, bold letters. Leaning back in his chair, Tango folds his arms over his chest, and sets his boots on his console. The ship around him hums faintly, enough to be heard if he pays attention to it. As he leans back, he surveys the inside of his ship, the LTS-111, the small craft that he called home. In comparison to other ships on the Prometheus, it’s smaller, built for short term travel between locations, a cool, dark grey inside. There’s two swivel chairs at the helm, a large front, port window, overlain with his control panel, above and below his chair. Behind him, a door opens to a short hallway—mess hall and his room, just a plain, grey-white with one bunk. There’s a crate with his belongings, of which there are few, a plant on the windowsill to keep him sane. The mess is devoid of food and drink. It’s a luxury he doesn’t need. It’s nice when he can, but it’s nothing but an experience for him. Nothing to be gained from poorly made HASA meals full of crude protein. The edge of his boot catches the lip of the console, pulling at the rubber. He’s tucked his flight suit into his boots. His eyes follow the bright red and gold stripe down the side—division colors. Commander, engineering and technology. On his sleeve there would be the same designation, as was on all of his uniforms. Even the plain black, well fit shirt underneath, even his boots. HASA; Commander. Luckily his boots didn’t have a commander or engineering tag. If he felt so inclined to sand off the small rubber HASA branding he could.

His eyes follow a line across the ceiling, to the small strip of light that brightens the room. He runs his fingers over the seam in his sleeve—habit, again, but he’s not sure from whom.

The hour passes slowly. Tango spins simulations in his mind, projects from the ship's computer the schematics of E-2. He can see the docking station there on the map and traces out the line from there to the botanical garden. He spends time memorizing that path, and out to other locations, and rolling the names of his new compatriots around in his language acquisition program. None of these things are foreign to him—he’s built for new experiences, new learning opportunities. He can feel where known things end and new begins, and craves to fill the space, often and continuously. When that hour ends, there’s a tinny beep from his communications panel. He looks over the message displayed.

LTS-111 prepare docking sequence.

Tango dials the coordinates into his navigation system, overriding the current charting program to pilot into the docking bay. As he does, a crackling voice jumps to life.

“LTS-111, this is Fwhip, Commander of E-2. Do you copy?”

“E-2, this is Commander Tek of Prometheus. I copy. The Rift is ready for docking procedure.”

“Commander!” The voice—Fwhip—laughs. “It’s good to have you. Glad to hear you made it safely.”

Tango nods to himself.

“Myself as well. Looking forward to meeting you all.”

The line clicks out. Tango resettles in his chair, sitting up straight, taking in the sound of Fwhip’s voice, the designation, the information. He files that away.

The curve of E-2 comes into view, stark white and grey, glittering gold where the paneling reflects light. He watches as the shining craft sits suspended amidst stars, its own field of gravity and oxygen and life shining a faint blue in the light of the nearby sun. He feels that warmth through the front viewscreen, despite the gold foil and shade to block it. It’s nice. In the closest approximation to nice he could get. He pulls the seat’s harness over his chest, snaps it in place as he begins standard docking procedure—slowing to a noticeable crawl, flipping on his communications panels, and switching to reserve thrusters. The Rift was made with older tech, anything he could salvage and amass from ships being decommissioned. It functioned—better than the standard HASA ships and was fully compliant—well beyond what he’d ever expected. Though he wasn’t quite human enough to have real expectations.

The ship settles into a launch port on the far side of E-2. Tango takes his time collecting his belongings. He wanders into his room as the ship powers down, settling into a dull hum. He repacks his bag, giving a quick once-over of the bunk before he lifts the trunk into his arms, the weight negligible. He settles the plant in the corner of his bag, making sure it’s settled before he slings the bag over one shoulder and sets the crate on one hip. His startup keycard sits in his front shirt pocket, and his credentials badge in his back pocket.

The first thing he notices as he enters the launchpad for E-2 is how clean and bright it is. The launchpad is devoid of anyone working, and there are certainly no other docking ships. The two other ships Tango can see are relatively new and clean, parked closely together. He glances around the space, looking for any sign of movement. His footsteps echo quietly around the empty chamber. To his right, beyond a stabilizing membrane is the winking stars of space. There’s a planet in the far distance, but it’s much too far to see anything notable.

The bay door to his ship closes as he steps toward the winding steps up to the lofted second floor. He starts up the steps, lifting the crate into his arms.

“Commander Tek!”

Tango startles. Looking up to the second floor, he sees someone lean over the railing, waving enthusiastically. Tango squints at him, surrounded by the white facade of the walls around him.

“Commander Fwhip?” Tango says, cocking his head to the side. He sees Fwhip nod again.

Tango smiles a little, eyebrows furrowing despite it. Fwhip. The intonation matches what he heard crackling over the communicator of his ship, though, of course, without the static. He’s wearing stark black, with a large diagonal line cut in red across his chest, up to his collar, and over his shoulders. Tango realizes for a moment that his jumpsuit may not have been the prime choice for meeting a commanding officer—no matter the rank or office. Especially considering that he was supposed to be both a liaison and a researcher.

But as Fwhip meets Tango on the landing, he shakes his hand firmly. There’s a spark, somewhere, in his eye, his heart rate elevated as Tango greets him. He’s winded, too, like he ran all the way here. Tango feels a piece of information in his mind click unexpectedly into place.

“Commander Fwhip,” he says, copying the smile Fwhip is giving him more fully. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh, please,” Fwhip laughs. “Commander, the pleasure is ours. Congratulations on your most recent publication.”

Tango nods. Somewhere, something kicks in his chest, just the faintest flicker of painful phantom sensation. It took him two years to publish that paper—and it was a damn shame he had to die to get it published in full, despite Doc and Etho’s help.

Fwhip’s hand is warm in his, enough to notice the change in sensation between them. He can feel Fwhip’s heartbeat in his palm and the way his breathing stutters for a second when Tango and him shake hands. Fwhip looks down at his hand. Tango lets go first, the noticeable white lines on his skin pulsating in and out. His hand feels stiff as he stretches it, feeling metal extend and retract.

“You’re…” Fwhip starts. Tango sees him frown, just the smallest change between his eyebrows.

“An android?” Tango finishes. He watches color rise to Fwhip’s face as Tango tilts his head, expression neutral, amused, even. Fwhip laughs, even if it’s born from a touch of embarrassment. Tango hums something low, a version of a laugh he can manage to sound normal.

“It’s not strange, if that’s what you think I think,” Fwhip says, leading Tango toward the stairs. “Unexpected maybe, but—to be fair, they didn’t tell you anything about me, either.”

“That is very true,” Tango says. He feels that itch, then, that want to know, to delve deeper. He shifts the box in his arms as they round the stairs, reaching the upper platform. “I think most people are surprised to find that I’m an android.”

“That’s a shame—you’re brilliant for more reasons than just being an android,” Fwhip says, and the click comes back again, like he’s cracking a combination lock one number at a time.

“I appreciate that,” Tango says, inclining his head. If there were anything in his face to indicate blush, he would be bright red. He hums instead, tilting his head back and forth in a dismissive sort of shake. Fwhip backsteps to walk by his side, raising his eyebrows over his glasses.

“So,” he starts, motioning to the door. “Did you have any questions about the ship as you settle in?”

Tango looks down at his shoes for a second, letting the thought spin in his head. He nods, just once.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d love to hear more about the botany division—I got a real short mission briefing with Admiral Xisuma before I left. I know we were in a hurry to find the sweet spot of travel.”

“Of course,” Fwhip says. “Lining up that parallel can be real difficult if you don’t time it right.”

“The Admiral’s got an eye for interesting navigation patterns.”

Fwhip laughs, nodding his head.

“Glad to hear you’re in good hands,” he says, opening the door for them. Tango follows him into a brightly lit hallway, lined in white and cream and bright floor lights. Along the edges are colored lines, intersecting and dividing—red, blue, green—to locations Tango can’t see. He follows Fwhip down a corridor, further from the launch platform. Tango knows this layout—further down the hall is a passenger elevator meant for the science team. They’ll take it down four flights to the belly of the ship, where many of the labs rest, tucked away. The ship's rings orbit each other, so he’ll be in this ring for as long as he’s doing research. They’re relatively straight forward, broken into divided sections inside. He traces the pattern out in his mind as Fwhip begins to speak.

“Well, to give you a station briefing, our main team fluctuates, but I’d say we have about 15 to 20 of us at any given time on command, and then a hundred of personnel and staff besides ourselves. I work closely with Lieutenants Scott and Pix, and both of them know our botanist pretty well,” he turns to Tango as he calls for the elevator, pressing his keycard to the small panel next to it. The numbers above the sliding doors illuminate in orange, bright and blocky. Tango raises his eyebrows.

“His name is Jimmy,” Fwhip continues. “He’s a Lieutenant Junior Grade, but he’s incredibly good at what he does. I’ll let you two get acquainted when we get down there.” The elevator doors slide open. Fwhip gestures Tango inside before he himself steps in, pressing the button for their floor. Tango sets his trunk at his feet, toeing it off to the side and out of the way. “He spends most of his time down there, so you may not see him much at all besides when you’re working.”

Tango hums. He screws up his face into an approximation of thinking, running the words over in his head. A junior lieutenant. A higher officer, for certain, but for him to be teaching Tango—there feels like there should be a catch. Tango pulls at the seams of the phrasing, the intonation. His eyebrows furrow.

Fwhip answers his question before it leaves his mouth.

“He basically revitalized the hydroponics system overnight—nothing’s changed in the watering or feeding system, but the plants grow like crazy now,” Fwhip folds his arms, glancing over at Tango as Tango folds his hands behind his back. “I think it was his specification for a while, so as soon as he got here, he requested the transfer, and his work brought him up the grade.”

“That’s impressive,” Tango says, a touch quiet. The only other person he knew who’d ever done something like that had been Mumbo, and most of his ideas were feats of engineering so large they required a three-room modified lab space and a blast chamber. Meridian supplied that—though Prometheus—himself included—was sad to lose him to their sister station, especially after how long he worked with Tango.

“He’s written a paper on it—it’s in the works of being reviewed now,” Fwhip says. “I don’t know how likely it is to go through, though.”

Tango hums again.

“Why’s that?”

Fwhip shrugs. “He’s just not a nice guy to work with,” he says. “And I don’t mean that to be rude, either.”

The elevator doors open. They spill out into a lackluster hallway, still the same bleach white as the floors above. Taking a sharp right, they follow the curved edge of the ship down the green line, toward a series of crew cabins. Fwhip gestures toward a room closer to the middle of their row. As they stand there for a moment, he offers Tango a keycard.

“We got you a room—well before we knew that you…probably wouldn’t need the bedspace,” he says, shaking his head apologetically. Tango waves his hand. “You’re welcome to it, though.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take it,” Tango says, trying that smile again. Fwhip smiles back this time, one that touches his eyes, and makes Tango smile harder.”I like having my own space. Normally I have an office, so this’ll do just fine, I think.”

He presses the keycard to the door as Fwhip lifts his crate into his arms, struggling under the weight for a moment. The door slides open. Inside, as the soft yellow lights raise to bright, is a sparsely furnished room. Fwhip carries his crate into the room, setting it at the foot of the double bed. The room is small, clean, tidy. He turns in a small circle as Fwhip sets the crate down, nodding his head.

“This is great,” Tango says, dipping his head. “Thank you.”

Fwhip nods, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says. Moving past him, he gestures back to the hallway. “I’ll be forwarding you the ship changelog, so you know who’s on shift at a given time, and when meals are, if you have any interest.”

“That sounds great,” Tango says, moving with him to the hall. He follows Fwhip back down the hall, back towards the elevator. They diverge at a second hallway and down a third, following the winding corridor through the ship’s interiors. The walls shift from opaque to translucent as they follow the path down, with more and more people shuffling about. Fwhip moves through the hall easily—Tango navigates with a bit more difficulty, skirting past doors sliding open and bright lights and the new rush of people. As they weave through, Fwhip says:

“Figured I’d show you down to the lab,” he checks his wrist, a brief flash of numbers and notifications that Tango doesn’t quite catch fully. “I’ve got a bit before I have to be back at the bridge.”

Tango hums.

“Great—I’ll…hopefully be able to find, uh, Jimmy?”

Fwhip nods.

“Mhm—” he says. They pause at a lab closer to the end of the corridor. Through the high ceiling and tinted glass, Tango can see the warm yellow and purple light that floods the space. The lab stretches further down the hallway and out of sight. Fwhip tilts his head toward the lab.

“This is it?” Tango asks.

“This is the one,” Fwhip says. He steps back from the door, letting Tango tap his card, the door sliding open for him. It stays open for a moment as Tango steps in. Fwhip checks his wrist again.

“I’ll let you find him,” he says. “Hopefully you’ll get a briefing before you leave to unpack.”

Tango nods, smiling again. The warmth of the room starts to roll over him as he stands still—cooling kicks on to adjust, like a sigh out of his chest.

“Thank you, Commander,” he says. Fwhip nods, dismissing him, before the door shuts between them, and Tango stands, alone, in a room full of plants.

He picks his way around the lab for a long while. The quiet is nice, the sound of air circulating and the soft hum of lights and electronics. He hadn’t run this particular section over in his schematics—something about it almost felt invasive. He wanted to learn it for himself, standing in the center of the room, hands braced on the work table. The equipment portion of the lab is its own self-contained room at the front of the lab—big enough for a table, several workstations, shelves of equipment. He rounds the table as he spots a secondary sliding door, obscured by the semi-translucent, white glass.

Tango presses his loaned keycard to the scanner, watching the door slide open. Stepping inside, he stands amongst a huge lab filled with rows of vegetables, aquatic plants, and small trees. He can see potatoes, carrots, beets, neat and lined in suspended troughs of water and sitting in cups on the floor. Along the walls are digging and planting tools organized haphazardly, strewn about in small piles. The air is warm and humid as he walks his way around a series of rows—it almost feels like its own planet, like the atmosphere alone were thick enough to taste.

Tango walks along a row, watching the plants with a careful consideration, as if they would move, or reach out to him, or something. But they’re just plants—unmoving beside the slight wave in the airflow. He reaches out after a moment, brushing one of the leaves, feeling it between his fingers. It’s rhubarb. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen rhubarb before. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many plants before.

Moving around the hydroponics, Tango wanders around the other side of the lab, watching as it stretches out and further back, rows of plants in tight lines, purple lighting and tubes for irrigation running across the ceiling. He turns into a slow circle, moving back through the rows as he does. The rows loop around back to the supply stations, where Tango walks backward, trying to see the end of the lab, where else it could lead, where else he could explore.

His foot catches under him, sliding out as his knees buckle and he lurches sideways.

He yelps loudly, flailing as he falls, losing his balance and smacking into the shelf behind him. A handful of ceramic plants pots and glass beakers fall with him, smashing to the ground as the shelf comes loose. Tango scrambles up, slipping again as he lands on his hands and knees, fumbling as he tries to scoop the glass into a reasonable, unnoticeable pile, to fix the shovels that must’ve fallen with him, the stacks of gardening gloves under his right boot. He mutters to himself as he does, babbling as his mind whirs with simulations. They were always there—right? That’s fine! He tries to stack a pair of gloves back on the shelf, watching them slide directly off.

Shoot. Shoot! Damn it!

“Shit—” he mumbles.

“Hello?”

A voice calls out from the other side of the room. Tango hears a door shut. He pushes the broken shards of a pot near his knee together, like he could even try and fix the shattered pot. He searches wildly for the voice as he does.

“Hi—” he manages, voice warbling unexpectedly. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” the voice comes again. “Who…”

Tango follows a shape through the row of plants as a man in grey steps around toward him. He blinks, owlish and confused, as he stares at Tango. Tango can see the name stitched into his quarter-zip.

Jimmy.

“I’m so sorry—” Tango starts again, but the man—Jimmy—is already halfway to kneeling in front of him, taking the broken pot from him, scooping the rest of the shards into his hands. Tango realizes, all at once, that he’s still sitting on the ground, surrounded by the carnage of him falling unceremoniously over into the stand. He starts gathering the tools around him into his arms.

“It’s…it’s alright—” he sighs, a trickle of confusion, of agitation, leaking into his voice. “Walk me through it, what happened?”

“I walked into it—” Tango says, feeling foolish all of a sudden. It’s not a tangible feeling. He just knows something is churning and curling in him and he can’t place what. “One minute I was turnin’ around lookin’ at this place and the next—wack.”

Jimmy hums under his breath, something amused. Tango blinks at him as he rights the shelf and replace the items from the floor.

“Wack?” he says, starting to laugh. “I…yeah. Sorry, I don’t organize things very well, it seems like.”

“I don’t either, I’ll be honest…” Tango says, shaking his head. “You’re Jimmy, then?”

Tango scrambles up with glass still in his hands and Jimmy turns back to him as he looks around for somewhere to put it. Jimmy nods his head over to a waste bin, dropping the shards of clay pot into it.

“Mm,” Jimmy nods. “You’re…?”

Tango makes a half-sound as he turns back to him, waving his hands.

“Commander Tek,” he says, sticking out his hand, smiling a bit lopsided. It feels lopsided at least. He’s trying to copy what he knows, and he thinks he’s failing. “Er, Tango. You don’t have to call me Commander.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows.

“Ah—Fwhip told me you were coming,” he says, tilting his head a little, something like a smile coming to his face. “You’re sure just Tango?”

Tango nods.

“Too fancy with the whole thing. I prefer just Tango, anyway.”

Jimmy smiles in full. The action alone splits his face in half, stretching up to his eyes. Tango copies him, after a beat, something that falters just a little bit as he does.

Jimmy takes Tango’s hand. As he does, a buzz of electricity spikes up Tango’s arm and to his elbow, pooling there, zinging cool and bright. Tango startles, jolting back, making a small, sharp sound that gets lost as Jimmy audibly yelps. It didn’t hurt, but it felt new. Tango likes new.

He feels something wash over him, even as he jolts—memory, knowledge, understanding, like an imprint of knowing the man before him before he even did. Jimmy blinks, a furrow coming between his eyebrows. Tango, for a split second, wonders if the feeling is mutual.

“Sorry,” he blurts. The static shock dissipates as he shakes out his hand. “Sorry, I might still have glass….”

Tango looks over his hands, prodding at the silicon for any shards left there. There aren’t any, though—he even brushes them together, trying to feel for anything. Tango glances back at Jimmy. He’s looking him over, that curious, owlish expression on his face again. His mouth quirks up a little, the sides of his mouth lifting.

“You’re an android,” he says.

Tango’s eyes flick over his face for a moment. It’s completely symmetrical, brown eyes clear and bright, hair neatly parted. His movements are smooth as he steps back and adjusts his sleeves and reaches to gently brush something from Tango’s jumpsuit.

“So are you,” Tango finally says, mouth quirking up. His mouth tastes like static electricity.

“Huh,” Jimmy says, soft, thoughtful. The edges of his mouth fully curl up in a way so human and so foreign. Tango catalogs it immediately. “That’s so interesting.”

Tango huffs out an approximation of a laugh—which causes Jimmy to laugh in earnest. The tension dissolves as he laughs, and Tango feels his shoulders drop. That tingling feeling still hasn’t left Tango’s hand. He wonders for a moment if it ever will, or if every time they brush together it’ll light up like static, or if maybe they just happened to be carrying just enough electrical discharge to shock each other. Tango hopes it doesn’t happen again. He’d like to be friendly without risking a shock.

“So,” Tango starts as they stand together in the hydroponic farm. “Is there a reason ESA lets you use terracotta and glass in space?”

Jimmy shrugs.

“They want it to feel more like Earth,” he hums, amused, turning away from Tango. He wanders a bit before Tango startles to catch up, following him through to the lab room. Jimmy pushes up the sleeves of his ESA sweatshirt. “Not that I would know what that feels like…though I do like it.”

They step through to the lab with the door hissing shut behind them. The humidity and heat follow them in, clinging to Tango’s jumpsuit. He can hear Jimmy mumbling to himself under his breath as he circles the large lab table in search of something. Tango tracks him with his eyes, pausing in the space where Jimmy once was, folding his arms. Jimmy fumbles around for a moment, digging through his cabinets, with Tango watching over his shoulder.

“That’s nice,” Tango says, eyes following him. Jimmy hums, nodding in response. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen Earth myself, either.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimmy says. When he turns back, he’s holding a data pad, a thumb drive and a blank badge. He lines them all up on the table, sitting next to each other. “Have you ever been planetside?”

Tango nods.

“A few times with my old crew,” he starts, waving his hands back and forth. “Some dry and dusty ones for sure. Not too exciting.”

Jimmy tilts his head a bit. He’s still smiling, and Tango, for a moment, can’t take his eyes off it. He isn’t sure anyone’s ever smiled at him for that long, or maybe he’s misreading it—emotions were a fickle, strange thing. Maybe Jimmy was simply happy.

Tango leans against the table, back pressing to the side of it, glancing down at the data pad and keycard for a moment. Jimmy looks away as Tango catches his eye. Tango thinks he sees him flush as he turns back around to the computer.

“They haven’t really briefed me on why you’re here,” Jimmy says. “Why’d they send you?”

“To E-1? We’re uh…our science director was looking for a secondary project to help bolster our food supplies—stretch it out a little longer?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Our admiral’s been in contact with Fwhip a few times conversationally, but we normally reach out to the Meridian, a station in our system, for help, but they weren’t having any hydroponics success. So…here I am.”

Jimmy nods absently as he continues typing.

“Hopefully I can give you something useful to take back,” he says, glancing up to Tango. Tango nods, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, they say you’re the best,” he offers. It’s true—everything Pearl had told him seemed to point directly to whoever was running the botanical experimentation lab on E-2. And here he was, an android, standing in front of Tango.

“Do they?” Jimmy asks.

“Mhm!”

“That’s very nice of them…I uh, I’ve got a badge for you,” Jimmy says, sliding the piece of plastic toward him. Tango picks it up, turning it in his fingers as he listens. It has a small symbol on it, like an overlapping square and a green stripe all the way around it. When he looks back to Jimmy’s face for a moment, he notices that same green stripe around his upper arm. Green. Science. It was fitting. He fits that bit of information right next to what he knows Prometheus’ color to be: nearly the same shade.

“It’ll get you into this lab and ones like it, um, all the way down this hall,” Jimmy unlocks the data pad, pushing it toward him. “And you can record anything you’d like on this pad.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s great, actually” Tango says. He tucks the card into his pocket, where it rests against his chest. The data pad is blank, no notes, no sketches, and no documents. Just the time and date. From what he can recognize, he’s been aboard for about two hours. “Is, uh, is there somewhere we can share notes, or should I be handing this off to you periodically?”

“Whatever you write there will also be stored on the lab computer,” Jimmy says, gesturing back to the screens behind him. “Either of us can access it at any time. It should recognize you as having access to the console, so there shouldn’t be too many problems with that.”

Jimmy studies him for a brief moment before he picks up the thumb drive, twisting it in his fingers. Tango watches the movement, eyes flicking between it, and the pad, and the screen.

“So,” Jimmy starts again. “I can’t say I was expecting an android, but that does make this whole process a lot easier.”

He holds out the thumb drive—Tango holds out his hand. The small bit of plastic that falls into Tango’s palm is lightweight and bright white. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, frowning just a little.

“What’s this for?” he asks, setting the data pad on the table again. His hands feel an itch to turn the drive around in them, nervous ticks surfacing as he receives data and writes to disk. The humidity, Jimmy’s expression, the curious glint in his eye, the buzz of excitement he can nearly feel in the air. For an android, Jimmy was certainly animated, certainly running high on emotion. Tango could reach out and grab it, if he knew he would catch something.

Jimmy nods a few times, leaning on the table in front of him.

“That right there,” he says, pointing at the drive. “Is all of my research. That way you can just—” he mimes a plugging motion, patting the back of his neck. If Tango’s chest could cave, it would have, as he feels some gear shudder and start again. “Get it all.”

Tango blinks. His vision stutters for a moment, fading out on the edge as he tries to process Jimmy’s comment, his voice. He feels that tug at his eyebrows as they furrow, a copy of a motion he’d seen so many times on so many faces. Jimmy’s research rests in the palm of his hand, still cold, despite the heat leaching from Tango’s synthetic skin.

“I think—” Tango says. What a stupid turn of phrase. He knows—he’s not thinking this time. He knows. “I can’t do that.”

Jimmy hums, face morphing into concern for a moment. Tango sees how his posture stiffens, almost a gut reaction to the change in Tango’s voice. Write to disk. Catalog. He softens his stance as Jimmy pipes up.

“What d’y’mean?”

“I think I’d rather just learn it from you,” Tango says, closing his fist around the thumb drive. “I’ll keep this, but I would like to learn from you, if that’s alright.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows high on his forehead, nodding a few times. His dark eyes go wide, too. They flick across Tango’s face, looking for something, before they land on the table in front of him as Jimmy raps his fingers against the plastic top. Tango tucks the data drive into his pocket, where it rests with the keycard, sticking his hands in his pockets to give them something to do.

“Oh—I mean—I, sure. Sure, we can do that,” Jimmy stutters, shaking his head. “Yeah, that should be fine, you should be able to learn that way.”

“I hope so,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy nods with him, that color briefly back in his cheeks. “I’d at least like to try. It’s what I’m known for, honestly.”

“Mm,” Jimmy says, face settling on that half-pleased, half-curious look. “Sure. That would be nice, I think. I don’t know how much I have to teach, but I can try.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty, Mr. Plant Guy,” Tango quips, patting him on the shoulder as he rounds around him. Jimmy laughs. The tingling sensation of touch before has gone now, and the new touch offers nothing but the sensation of soft sweater fabric, of coolness from Jimmy, and a brief flicker of information that he doesn’t quite catch. It feels like energy he can’t process. A line of code that doesn’t slot itself into place. He gives his shoulder a quick squeeze before he pulls away, gesturing to the door.

“Do you think you might be able to walk me back to my cabin?” his shoulders shrink a fraction. He tries to quickly run the simulation in his mind, etching out the turns of the hallways in the belly of the science department. All he can remember are faces, half-recognizable from research and names partially unobscured by association. “I lost track of how many turns Commander Fwhip made.”

Jimmy shrugs, nods, patting the table as he pulls away.

“Sure,” he says, fishing his keycard from around his neck. “My cabin is close to that area, so I know the way back pretty well—-”

“You have a room?”

The door slides open in front of Tango, the cool air of the hallway flooding into the room. He steps through, into the empty, well lit space, with its green stripe and green carpeting. The white-yellow lighting smooths out the edges of the walls around them, dotted with windows of the station’s central core as they slowly rotated around it. Jimmy pauses for a moment to watch as Tango does, before he nudges him with his elbow. Tango turns to follow.

“I like the bed,” Jimmy says, making a pleasant, almost chirping sound. “And the sleep cycle. And a space for my things that isn’t the lab.”

Tango nods.

“Our secondary engineering lead gets onto me when I don’t rest, but I prefer to not have to,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, waving one hand about. That gesture was from Doc, who loved to make things more nonchalant than they had to be, gesturing with his part-plastic, part-metal arm. “It wastes time.”

“You’re a busy man, Tango,” Jimmy says. He pauses just as he’s about to say Tango, like he had meant to say Commander, but had skipped the instinct. It stutters as he speaks. Tango feels a little bit of a twist, somewhere in the gears of his chest. Maybe everyone should just call him Tango. It felt a lot better, somehow. It felt earned.

“I try to be,” Tango says, waving his hand again. “I’m built for continuous learning—neuroplasticity. It’s what I’m meant to do…kind of.”

“Interesting…” Jimmy hooks a right at a fork. Tango notes it. “I don’t think I’ve met an android without a base program. And it was HASA who decided that?”

Tango nods.

“That was the plan, anyway. So far, it’s worked out alright. I have no issues, our technicians make sure I’m running smoothly, I can run my own diagnostics as far as I’m aware. And…I get to take back knowledge to our ship,” he sticks his free hand back in his pocket. They take a left, following the curving wall. “That’s a win to me.”

“That does sound nice,” Jimmy says, frowning a little, mostly in his voice than on his face. As the wall evens out, Jimmy slows to a stop. Before them, on the leftmost side, are a row of doors, which Tango recognizes. He marks down their exact location, how the wall hugs the left, looping back around on the far side. Jimmy splays his arm out, gesturing to the doors. Tango manages a smile.

“Thank you,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy hums.

“Of course, glad I could help,” he says. He looks pleased, now, none of the nervous flit that he had when they’d first met. Tango, too. He feels settled, somehow, like he was already beginning to understand the space around him, already acclimated to new gravity and new routine. Jimmy’s easy smile and tone of voice made that all the easier to do.

As Tango steps away, toward his door, he turns back to Jimmy, who’s folded his arms over his chest. Something’s there, in Tango’s chest, maybe just a trick of mechanics, something he can’t really place. It smooths out any bumps in logic programming. It makes things even, whatever the thing in his chest is. Jimmy makes a noise, and Tango’s eyes flick up to his face.

“Y’know—not to jump ahead or anything, since I know we’ve just met. But if you wanted to, my cabin is a bit closer to the lab. If you ever feel like you want a roommate, you’re more than welcome to stay there,” Jimmy starts, clasping his hands together. The small smile on his face hasn’t really faded, and his voice is even with curiosity. “There’s—there’s only one bed, but you said you don’t sleep. So it should be fine.”

Jimmy continues to babble, now, eyes flicking down to the patches at Tango’s knees.

“I can always request you to the room next to it—I think that one’s unoccupied, too. If you ever want to sleep, that is. But you can let me know. Figured it might be nice to have a roommate so you’re not lonely,” he finishes, shrugging a little. Then he startles, blinks, and waves his hands. “Unless you like being alone.”

Tango tries to make a sound to dissuade him from that idea, but it gets caught in his programming and his vocal filter and it kind of sounds like a wheeze, or maybe a laugh, but he shakes his head several times, copying Jimmy’s easy smile from before.

“No, no…” he assures. “That sounds really nice, actually. I’ll…I’ll let Fwhip know that I’d like to do that.”

Jimmy visibly relaxes, and the smile comes back to his face, and he laughs a little, an actual, natural laugh.

“Sure thing…” Jimmy scrunches his nose. “Roomie.”

Tango feels something flip-flop over as he jumps, shaking his head again.

“Don’t call me that—” he manages, before Jimmy waves his hands again and says:

“I’m just joking, Tango!” and reaches out to clasp his shoulder. That rush of static only prickles for a moment, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. Tango feels it trickle down his elbow and to his wrist as Jimmy steps away from him. “Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you at 0700.”

Tango nods, realizing he’s still smiling just a bit, even as he steps into his room and the door slides shut behind him. He stands at the threshold, with his back to the wall, for a long moment, letting the memories play in his head as he does. The quiet hum of his room and the orange-yellow lighting soothes his otherwise spinning mind to a controlled simulation. Even still, Tango’s hand and arm prickle faintly with sensation he can’t place, and a warmth in his chest he’s not sure he fully understands.

Pulling away from the door and into his room, Tango furrows his eyebrows and starts an internal diagnostic.

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authorhjk1 · 1 year

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December Special

(I will update this post regularly)

Hi everyone!

I'm planing on writing exactly five chapters throughout December, which means every Sunday. You guys can send me requests until November 12th. After that, we will decide together, which of the requests I will write. Everytime I get a request for this event here on Tumblr or on Wattpad, I will put it on the list in this post.

You can request anything, it can be completely different from my story. The requests, which I've already gotten and didn't add to this list, will appear in the actual story I am currently writing.

I will not write anything about minors (obviously) and I will only add requests, which I am comfortable with (If I am just not into a certian kink, it is hard to write and I think the smut will suck then).

I will sort the requests by groups/ soloists. You can put in more than one request. I'm also reserving one chapter for actresses only, since I feel like there not as many smuts about them (But I'm afraid I don't know that many).

Update:

I will structure the voting as followed:

Everyone has four votes aka I will do four polls, since there are four chapters to be picked. The voting will take place from the 12th of November until the 26th. You can still send me requests during that time, but be aware that the people who already voted might not look at the poll again, until it's decided. I will encourage the people on Wattpad to vote on Tumblr, so that everyone is able to follow the process. But if that's not possible for some, I will allow dms or comments.

I will not announce the winners. I like to keep it interesting so prepare to be surprised ;) The order of the chapters will be decided by me.

The release dates will be:

December 9th

December 16th

December 23rd

December 30th

Please bear in mind that I might not live in the same timezone as you, which means the updates might be delayed for some. I will also notify you, if I will not be able to finish a chapter until the deadline, but I will do my best that this will not happen. Of course you never know.

IU:

You meet your exgirlfriend IU at a high school friend's wedding. After the memories of your school times come back, the two of you sneak off.

Dreamcatcher:

After just being hired by Dreamcatcher Company, you are already tasked with shooting Jiu's and SuA's special clip. Jiu knows that you are an Insomnia and that SuA is your bias. Maybe you will get to shoot another type of special clip with the two of them, thanks to Jiu.

After another exausting week, Gahyeon visits her boyfriend, who is currently living on Jeju island. Once she gets there, she realizes, that he is cheating on her with someone else. As she walks in, Gahyeon sees SuA,who is already bouncing on top of her boyfriend.

Red Velvet:

You and Irene are coworkers with a special history. The two of you tried out more kinks and positions and places than even married couples. But some things are still missing. Luckily, Irene has a friend, who is working in your company as well. Kang Seulgi. The young intern, who got hired a couple of weeks ago. You were planning on welcoming her properly anyways.

Being a demon has its up and downs. But there is one thing you will never get tired off. People who summon you. Either for fun, or because they are convinced that there aren't any supernatural beings. Or, In this case, three gorgous women, who want to experience more than just meaningless sex with strangers. Joy, Seulgi and Yeri have only one thing in mind, while they summon you.

(G)-idle:

You have worked with a couple of idols already. THey are often models and embassadors for brands after all. Now you are tasked with filming a small video to promote Jimmy Choo's newly designed dress. The woman who appears in your studio is no other than Cho Miyeon.

Itzy:

Yuna has always been quite kinky. But her Christmas present for you this year is on another level. It's Ryujin. She is kneeling on her bed, wrapped in red lingerie and a bow like a gift. Her hands are tied behind her back, while her eyes are covered with a red blindfold.

Le Sserafim:

You have already tried everything. Drinking warm milk with honey, listening to music, reading a book. Nothing. Working out, spending more time on your job. Nothing. Even after bringing that girl home last night, Yunjin, you vaguely remember her name, didn't help at all. You still can't fall asleep. It's late at night and you are lying in bed once more. Sleepless. THen, your doorbel rings. That must be your neighbour. Chaewon. After telling her about your insimnia, she said she might know something.

Twice:

Going to college is already hard enough, considering your background. Bad grades, devorced father, stepmother and stepsister and so on. The only reason you got in was because of your scholarship. You are not a good student. But a talented football player. And now everything becomes even more difficult. While trying to learn for your upcoming test, someone nocks on your door. Tzyuy, your stepsister. Her and her mom, Jihyo, seemed to have gotten in ahuge fight once again. Can you cheer her up?

Girls Generation:

The one thing you love most about your job is the fact that you see beautiful women pretty much every day. Being a photographer enables you to make them take almost any kind of pose in any kind of outfit. Of course, when you started your career, you never thought about it like this. Until you meet Im Yoona.

Cross groups/soloists:

IU's and Kang Seulgi's competition started, when they caught each other, having sex backstage during an award show, a couple of months ago. At first, it picked up slowly. Random challenges, send via text on the kakaoTalk app, answered by pictures as proof of the accomplished mission. Now, the two of them are tied, desperate to come up with something new. Luckily, IU and Seulgi have alot of fans, who are more than happy to help them out.

One thing idols do best is taking pictures. For Istagram for Facebook, you name it. And Jini is no exception. But this time, unbeknownst to her fans, there is a reason why she only uploaded pictures with her upper body visible. Reading the comments afterwards makes her smile. If only they knew what was going on.

Idols are always stressed, overworked and tired. On top of that, they can't even relax properly. They have to be carefull about heir food, words and actions. And one thing, that some people might neglect, is sexual satisfaction. That becomes a problem for Karina, Jihyo and Eunbi. Having bigger breasts only adds to their problems. Due to stress, their milk production starts to rise. When three of them invite you to join their pre-Christmas party, they obviously have ulterior motives.

December is always hectic for you. Luckily, you are sometimes able to blend out the real world and immerse into kpop. You are a member of a few discord channels and Reddit communities. One night, you see there is only one other person in one specific chatroom. The two of you send each other spicy pics and gifs of your favourite idols, like you usually do. Suddenly, you receive similar kind of pictures from an unknown number. Pictures of Kazuha. Asking your online friend about it, he actually is experiencing the same, but with pictures of An Yujin. What is this about? And what is the last picture you receive? A condom? What is going on?

You immediately harden at th sight of your coworker in her stage outfit. Karina looks like a holy being as the makeup artist finishes her job. She looks up at you through the mirror nervously. You are not supposed to be here. You are perfoming soon as well, your own group is getting ready in the next room. But sometimes, like today, Karina gets stressed and worried before her perfomance. The two of you sneak off, finding a closet that seems perfect for your purpose. You freeze in the door as you see Irene between Taeyeons's legs.

Actresses:

You knew this might happen. You read the script of your new role in the upcoming kdrama. And yet, you are surprised, when your co-star pulls you aside after filming that day. Seo Yeaji's face can switch in a heartbeat. From a cold and emotionless mask, to an adorable, cute smile. While she asks you, if the two of you could practice that one scene, her face shows a new expression. Lust. It's quite a spicy scene after all.

Hong Chayoung is a very skilled and succesful lawyer at the law firm Wusang. Being the Babel Group's legal representative, she does everything to win against the opposition. You used to be a member of Park Seokdo's Ant company. After having a rough time, you decided to start an honest life. But Chayoung is afraid you are going to spill Babel's secret in the upcoming trial (No spoilers for "Vincenzo", hoping for a season two!!!)

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hexgravity · 7 months

Text

Sorry for inactivity outside of reblogs. Genuinely in the midst of an idea drought.

So I guess the current projects I'm working on are Fragile Life, an unnamed story.

Lost Marrow is something I'll dabble in when I feel like, had once tried to make it a story, does not work.

I don't think I'm a story/comic type of guy like I used to be. So most of my projects will be loosely connected drawings.

With that being said I do plan on drafting more refs soon.

Given the outfit aesthetics I gave everyone, I need to come up with some for the rest.

Here's like the the list of info I got so far.

Grian: his is tricky for me, currently I'm working with like a dnd ranger aesthetic but I'm not sure. I should probably give him something colourful to fit his parrot pet or a jungel aesthetic.

Scar: business suit, something akin to a snake oil salesman. He will scam you, and Jellie is his partner in crime.

Jimmy: giving him the coal miner aesthetic, he is not escaping the canary allegations and his pet is not helping his case, fairly roughed up looking since he's always out like 1st or 2nd.

Gem: something cottage core to fit her deer companion, I'm experimenting with her first with details so she'll probably be the first to get a finalized design.

Scott: his aesthetic is a beach outfit to match his seal pet, something more fancy hence why I keep drawing him with a towel skirt.

Pearl: something rebellious, loner wolf aesthetic to match her in series character and to fit Tilly.

Lizzie: I'm not sure with her, maybe a princess theme since her pet is an axolotl which is a nod to Empires Season 1.

Joel: he's got the frog so something swamp themed. Yes, I did pick the frogs so he cannot escape the Shrek allegations.

Tango: going with a warm fluffy winter aesthetic to fit his moth pet, thought it would also be nice to have him all cozy and it would make certain pairings interesting cause just imagine Tango and Scott in the same room, prepared for opposite seasons.

Martyn: I'm really unsure. I drew him in an athletic fit but that feels like less of a theme than the others, I feel I can get something better maybe something that matches his dog pet.

Etho: currently its a detective theme but not confident in it, his pet is a coyote, would be silly if he was a mix of Pearl and Martyn aesthetic but that also feels lazy.

Cleo: something fancy. She deserves a fancy aesthetic like the type of person who invites people to a house party. Their pet being snakes, which actually inspires creative ways to blend player's pets into them like snake hair or deer ears(Gem).

Impulse: I had lumberjack? But I don't think it fits. Miner also fits but that's Jimmy's aesthetic. Maybe if he was paired with Jimmy I would allow the overlap actually.

#fragile life #scott smajor #trafficblr #geminitay #tangotek #grian #impulsesv #jimmy solidarity #martyn inthelittlewood #pearlescentmoon #zombie cleo #joel smallishbeans #lizzie ldshadowlady #goodtimeswithscar

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he1ian · 2 years

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masked chimes au master post

(by boatem, convex-solos and me)

[convex centric superhero au where everyone other than joe hills suffers, is evil or both]

[disclaimer: this au is divided into 3 acts, as far as act 1 is kept light-hearted, act 2 and 3 bring up dark topics (manipulation, strong violence, death unhealthy relationships, etc.) so if it's not your jam, proceed with caution! or don't proceed at all]

[it also has elements of shipping (cubscar, bigren, biggri, solidaritimes) so, keep that in mind]

[also grian uses she/her. cause why the hell not]

designs (so far):

• jingler & (act 1) jangler

• stress, (act 1) scar, joe

• (act 2) jangler , cub, grian

• bigb, ren, doc

• cleo

• vault busters (iskall & mumbo)

• false, jimmy, pearl

• mother spore

• jingler & jangler (act 3)

• gem / dawnbreaker

• etho

the world is kept in modern times ableit not realistic, some people have hybrid body parts however it doesn't majorly affect their life, they're mostly just design choices

character roles (act 1):

- jingler: cub's persona, an undefeated supervillain, terrorizing the city for fun

- cub: scar's roommate, studied medicine but works retail, tired

- scar: cub's roommate, works at anything as anyone (barbie LOL) hence has money to support both him and cub, childhood best friend of mumbo and grian, extremely full of himself

- grian: a detective working on the case of the jingler, childhood best friend of mumbo and scar, crushes on bigb

- jangler: scar's hero persona, created for the sole purpose of fighting against the jingler, offers his help to grian (who in desperation, accepts)

- ren: in a day to day life he's the owner of the shop cub works at but has knowledge in spy gadgets, gets called for special jobs - currently working in espionage helping grain, has an unofficial thing going on with bigb

- doc: tech guy, met ren when he was tasked to create his prosthetic after an accident in the past, currently working in general tech helping grian, (later creates weapons for jangler to use)

- pearl: grian's boss, should've fired her on probably 5 different occasions

- iskall: villain (retired supervillain), currently focusing on robbery rather than causing chaos and violence

- mumbo: villain, iskall's sidekick, childhood best friend of scar and grian, was NOT made for the role of a villain but is scraping for money (rip), has no interest in harming anyone, he's just in for the cash

(they don't really go by any specific names and are rather seen as a complete duo of vault busters)

- stress: retired supervillain (who worked alongside iskall), currently living a peaceful life as an owner of a flower shop

- bigb: owner of a bakery, has an unofficial thing going on with ren, like the only genuine fan of the jangler

- false&jimmy: sheriffs (as in, police level) assigned the case of vault busters

(jimmy and lizzie are blood related and grian is their adopted sibling)

important events (act 1):

- scar and cub didn't know each other before living together. cub met scar one evening when the latter was going home after one of his many jobs, they briefly talked. scar spiked cub's interest as despite clear signs of a crime committed on his clothes were visible, scar didn't mention them at all. he later found out that scar was looking for a flatmate and offered himself.

- grian is overworked, not even close to revealing the identity nor capturing the jingler, without thinking too much about it she rambles about the case to scar whenever they meet for a friendly chat. that's when scar gets the idea to become the jangler ("someone would have to be insane enough to face jingler in combat") but not really because he cares about the greater good of the city - he sees it as an easy opportunity to get fame. [🟣][🟠]

- jangler would've easily lost to the jingler if it wasn't for the fact cub recognizes his roommate (it's painfully obvious really, he doesn't understand how no one else sees it, cartoon logic) and after some dodging he flees the battlefield leaving scar behind. for the first time, someone has survived a duel with the jingler.

- even though he never actually comes close to harming or even scathing the jingler, grian's new companion sparks fresh hope into her and the future of the case. her and her team of doc and ren start working on more complicated tech and weapons. (the success also makes grian not even consider scar to be the new hero. she greatly undermines his abilities).

- [ending of act 1]

jangler is awaiting the arrival of the jingler when the vault busters stumble upon him. past urges awaken in iskall as he senses a perfect opportunity to fight the only undefeated enemy of the jingler. long story short, they fight, mumbo messes up scar's face on accident (which leaves the left side of his face covered in burn scars), cub arrives and saves scar. [here's a fic of the scene written by our friend!]

character roles (act 2):

[if someone isn't mentioned, their role stays the same][the vibe turns a whole 180° from now on]

- cub: scar's boyfriend with no genuine feelings of love towards him, treats scar as his science project

- scar: cub's partner, borderline obsessed with him, craves all his attention

- jangler: now a supervillain working alongside cub, loves playing with fire

- ren: fucking dead (the jingler kills him 🙏)

- grian: a detective throughout the first half of the act. after jangler leaves and ren dies, the case is in shambles; gets demoted to vault busters' case and false with jimmy take her place

- mother spore: grian's vigilante persona, created after her demotion and finding out the identities of jingler and jangler. decides to take matters in her own hands and forms the resistance

- joe: silly character with massive plot armor [best explained here], film uni student who wants to make a movie about jingler and jangler for their thesis, best friend of cleo

- cleo: film directing student at the same uni as joe, accompanies him in his observations and recordings, admires jingler's ability to unnoticeably lead a performance, best friend of joe

- stress: accidentally gets roped into grian's resistance, reveals her knowledge of heroes and villains

- mumbo: the wettest rag of a character, gets his leg chopped off by the jangler (😢), retires as a villain after that

- iskall: after mumbo gets injured he blames himself for it (it's the second time his companion suffers meanwhile he leaves unscathed) - he turns himself in

- jimmy: now working on the main case, convinced there's a thing between him and scar - scar however uses jimmy's infatuation to gather information that might help him and cub [🟠]

- bigb: ren's death takes a huge toll on him, grian gets closer to him

important events (act 2)

- after the fight with vault busters, cub saves scar and takes him to his hiding spot. he reveals his identity and offers scar to join him instead. cub tells scar how actually weak he is and that people don't consider him great. he also offers that beside him, he will get a taste of real fame.

- scar and cub burn the old outfit of the jangler together. it awakens scar's love for fire meanwhile cub showcases and offers the new suit - revealing his plan has been in the making for a while. [🔵]

"Scar treats being the Jangler as a performance. He doesn’t really treat all the atrocities he commits with the seriousness they should have."

- in the meantime while scar heals, jingler keeps on the down low but isn't restless. during one of his shifts cub messes up and while chatting with ren, mentions information about the latest doings of the jingler only classified people would have access to. he's forced to and murders ren.

- grian is the person to break the news to bigb. they become closer.

- scar makes sure to make his return and reveal a big thing. the jingler calls grian and doc to announce he's holding the jangler hostage. upon arrival, they reveal there's no hostage. scar only craved an audience. after this scene, grian loses the case.

- the jangler takes mumbo's leg just basically as a revenge. lol. he didn't want to kill him but wanted to make him never forget.

- joe becomes one of the victims of jingler and jangler. or better said, was supposed to. the guy doesn't seem to be able to die and after a while the duo becomes so fascinated by him they just let him live. he offers to make a film about them, thinking of them more of as actors than threat. cub out of curiosity and sheer ridiculousness agrees and scar considers what he's doing to be a performance anyways. (joe never finds out their identities though)

- scar and grian end up in an argument over jimmy and cub which results in scar revealing to be the jangler. he promises grian that he will kill her. you can read a fic of this scene here!

- after finding out about mumbo's injury iskall feels incredibly guilty and turns himself in. he's judged only for his present crimes and gets a community work sentence (grian figures out mumbo must've been the other vb member but stays quiet. how she isn't fired is anyone's guess).

- cub and scar go into hiding and grian decides to take matters into her own hands, directly this time. she forms the resistance and mother spore.

[a great fic of one of the fights between mother spore and the jingler and jangler, by vexcraft our beloved]

- [ending of act II]

once again, a big fight, jingler and jangler are against the resistance (yet again)

this time the resistance comes out as victorious and the fight ends in cub getting gravely injured and scar turning himself in, considering it the better option than letting cub die.

act III (general info)

[this part is still a big work in progress so not many things are settled on]

- the main premise is basically that scar and cub end up in jail (losers). cub loses an eye after the fight with grian (both him and scar losing what matters more to each of them - cub utility and scar, appearance).

- scar doesn't cope well with being away from cub and not knowing his state

- false and jimmy interrogate them

- they manage to escape but as i said, it's only a brief outline, no details on when and how yet

[the post will get progressively updated]

#VERY long post #masked chimes au master post #masked chimes au #convex #uhhh if you read this you deserve financial recompensation

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amethystfairy1 · 1 month

Text

You know how many AU's I'm writing right now? 2.

You know how many AU's are currently trying to get a stranglehold on my brain and distract me? 3.

Please ignore Pirate Martyn, assassin mercenary Jimmy, and loyal Scarland staff costume designer Cleo in a fistfight behind me.

And this isn't even considering the fifth notebook I just finished filling with random nonsense that's been brainrotting me about my own actually original story that's got so much worldbuilding that I need to take a weed whacker to it to make it comprehensible.

Maybe I should go edit the newest Traveling Thieves chapter...

Costume Designer Zombie Cleo:

...new Traveling Thieves chapter out soon! ...ish...

Oh crap I'm also in grad school so I should probably maybe do work at some point today. Yeah. That too.

#fanfic #ao3 fanfic #amethyst rambles #traveling thieves au #im working on itttttttt

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blackaleycatt · 7 months

Text

Wild Hearts: Creature Chemistry

Dabio finally has enough and leaves Donita and the villain lifestyle behind him. Based off the episode "Mystery of the North Pole Penguins?"

youtube

Written by me and my friends at 3 am. Not meant to be taken too seriously lol.

Chapter 1: Enough

Fandom: Wild Kratts

Pairing: Dabio x Jimmy

Other Stuff: Implied ableism (not much), Dabio redemption arc, Dabio is a brony.

AO3 link

“We're gonna come over and hang out with you. We can play tennis together, and then have lunch, and then go to the movies and we'll have lots and lots of fun together.“

Dabio was still thinking about the phone call he and Donita had with the Wild Kratts earlier. He would never tell Donita but he really wanted the Wild Kratts to come over and hang out with them. He and Donita rarely hung out so he knew that Donita would never want to hang out with the Wild Kratts.

Donita would always call the Wild Kratts weird.

He'd never seen Donita hang out with anyone besides the other villains, and she didn't even really like being around them that much. She spent all day designing clothes for her fashion lines, shopping, going to the spa, and other stuff by herself.

He didn't know if she ever even had friends before.

Regardless of what Donita thought of them, Dabio kind of liked the Wild Kratts team even if they were on opposite sides. Despite everything, every time he and the Kratts came in contact they would still treat him and Donita with respect, though sometimes they liked to mess around with them.

He sometimes imagined what it would be like to be their friend or even be part of the team.

Even if he was disappointed that the Wild Kratts couldn't come over, he knew that their presence would put Donita in a bad mood, and he DID NOT want Donita to be in a bad mood for what he was planning on asking her later.

Nobody knew this but Dabio loved the TV show My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic with all of his heart. He had been a fan since he was very young. He kept My Little Pony figurines in his room but had them hidden extremely well fearing that Donita would throw them out if she saw them. He also had a My Little Pony blanket that Donita had seen but surprisingly had allowed him to keep on his bed. The first time she saw it she just rolled her eyes and scoffed.

Dabio would go on My Little Pony forums to talk to fellow bronies because he didn’t know anyone in real life who was a My Little Pony fan. Well, technically the only people he knew were Donita and the other villains.

While he was scrolling on a forum one day he saw that a pegasisters convention was being held in the place where he and Donita were currently. For this particular convention though any bronies or male attendees would have to be accompanied by a woman as a precaution to prevent any weirdos from showing up. There were, unfortunately, a lot of weird men in certain parts of the My Little Pony community.

If he wanted to attend the convention he had no choice but to have Donita take him.

Donita was currently taking a nap as she claimed talking to the Wild Kratts had drained all of her energy, while Dabio was stressing about how he was going to ask Donita if he could go to the convention.

He had everything planned out already. He had bought the tickets with his own money, had a costume planned, and found a hotel near the convention where he could spend the night if he needed to.

The hardest part was getting Donita’s approval…

[A few hours later]

Donita had woken up and was working as usual. Dabio decided that he needed to ask her now or never.

“Uh…uh D-Donita? I have question” Dabio stumbled over his words as he nervously approached Donita at her work desk. She had her head down, most likely working on some new designs. He knew that Donita hated it when he asked her for literally anything but this was just too important for him not to take a chance.

He must have been standing behind her twiddling his fingers for too long because he hadn't noticed Donita turn around in her chair. “DABIO!! WHAT DO YOU WANT!” Donita yelled as she struck him on the side of his chiseled face. If his head wasn't so thick he might have felt it.

“Um well you know my favorite show is My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic right?”

“You mean that children's show with the stupid horses?” Donita said with clear disinterest as she turned back around at her desk. Donita had heard Dabio obsessing over the show many times before and she was growing sick of hearing about it. He shouldn't be getting that excited about colorful horses at his big age.

Dabio felt very offended at Donita’s description of the best show to ever exist and could tell by her response that she was already agitated with his existence. “They are not stupid horses, they are ponies.” Dabio loudly corrected her but flinched in fear that she would strike him again. Luckily she just rolled her eyes.

“Ponies. Horses. Who cares it's still just a stupid kids show that you are far too old to still be watching” Donita basically shrieked.

Dabio wanted to defend himself and his beloved ponies but he knew fighting with her would lower the chances of him getting permission to go to the convention.

“I- I know you think it's just a stupid horse show but it means a lot to me. I was wondering if you would let me go to the convention here. Pretty please Donita?” Dabio had his fingers crossed behind his back. Donita just stared at Dabio. Her eyes went wide.

Dabio spoke again. “We can even go together. I saved up enough for two tickets.” Dabio said as he pulled out two small slips of paper from the pockets of his way-too-tight jeans.

“Please?”

Donita tapped her pen against the table in a rhythmic fashion before finally answering.

“No Dabio.” She held up a paper with graphite smudges, “Besides you're going to be too busy collecting animals and modeling for my spring collection to go anyways! Now leave me alone. I have a lot of work to do.”

“Okey dokey Don-”

Dabio paused

Why was he going to take this treatment again? The Wild Kratts never spoke to him like this. Hell, the other villains didn't even speak to him this way, but Donita did. Even after capturing hundreds of animals for her to turn into fashion statements. Even after being her personal bodyguard, driver, chef, you name it. Even after all he had done for her, she still treated him like gum on the bottom of her little kitten heels. All he wanted to do was attend a gathering where he would meet fellow My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic lovers like himself. Maybe he could even make some real friends. But Donita never cared about him or what he wanted. She only cared about herself and what she wanted to do.

He knew that it was because of his disability.

Dabio felt so discouraged and embarrassed he wanted to just run to his room and cry, but he knew Donita would make fun of him for doing that too.

Dabio stared at the back of Donita’s head for a few seconds before taking a deep breath.

“Actually Donita. I have something else to say.”

Donita groaned as she turned around in her chair once more “What is it Dabio? It better not be about those damn horses again!”

“I think sometimes you are a meanie. I don’t like the way you treat me.”

Donita looked at Dabio in disbelief “You don't like the way that I treat you? Well, darling, you don’t have to like anything that I do. You just have to do it. Do you think I honestly care about what YOU want to do!”

“No Donita. How you treat me is not right. You act just like Gilda the Griffin. Always bossing around every pony no matter how much they do for you.”

Donita didn’t know who the hell Gilda the Griffin was but she was growing more and more irritated with Dabio’s disobedience.

“If you don’t like how I treat you go ahead and leave. See how long you make it in the real world without me to hold your hand like a toddler. You’re more of an overgrown man-child than Zach.”

With that Dabio was done.

“Fine. I will!”

Donita didn’t even care. She just turned right around in her seat again and got back to work. What she didn't know was that Dabio was completely serious about leaving.

Dabio went to his room to pack a bag. He packed his most valuable possessions:

His rare MLP figurines

His Fluttershy blanket

His tuxedo print t-shirt

His champagne toast bath and body works body mist

His Tamagotchi

A life supply of pizza Lunchables (in case he needed a snack during his journey)

As Dabio was looking for more stuff to pack he stumbled across a photo of him and Donita that he had in a bedazzled pink frame. Well, to be honest, it was a photo Dabio took of himself and then photoshopped Donita into, but the photo still had sentimental value for him so against his better judgment he packed it with him.

Time: 4:30 am Location: Donita’s Private Jet Day: Friday

Dabio heard Donita go to bed about 5 hours ago. He sat on his twin-sized bed tapping his foot anxiously on the floor. He still was contemplating running away but he was terrified. He hadn't been by himself in years and didn’t know if he was capable of surviving on his own

He checked his phone. He knew the private jet was parked about 30 minutes from the city. He was hoping that when he got into the city he could find a hotel. Somewhere Donita wouldn't find him.

Eventually, Dabio decided that he needed to do this now or risk Donita finding him awake at this hour. He got off of the bed, suitcase in hand, and headed for the door as quietly as he could.

Dabio was actually quite graceful for his size and was able to sneak out the door (which was still slightly busted from Chris ripping it off in the Sloth Bear episode) and down the stairs while making minimal noise. It's probably the first time Dabio has been able to walk freely without hauling around Donita like a sled dog!

As soon as Dabio was outside the made a run for it just in case Donita had heard anything.

And with that Dabio made his trek towards the city. The song “work” by Iggy Azalea was blasting in his off brand Temu AirPods

This song was very special to Dabio because the lyrics captured his current predicament and the artist is an immigrant such as Dabio is.

Walk a mile in these Louboutins But they don't wear these shits where I'm from I'm not hating, I'm just telling you I'm tryna let you know what the fuck that I've been through Two feet in the red dirt, school skirt Sugar cane, back lanes Three jobs, took years to save But I got a ticket on that plane People got a lot to say But don't know shit about where I was made Or how many floors that I had to scrub Just to make it past where I am from No money, no family Sixteen in the middle of Miami

Thank you for reading this mess. Critique is welcome.

Updates coming soon!

#wild kratts #fanfic #jimmy z #dabio wild kratts #donita donata #dabio x jimmy z #mlm #wild kratts jimmy #Youtube #Spotify #Wild Hearts: Creature Chemistry #wild kratts fanfic #wild kratts au

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superman86to99 · 10 months

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The Return of Superman 30th Anniversary Special (November 2023)

Whoa! Some sort of chronal disturbance has thrown us from 1994 to the futuristic year 2023, just in time to cover this new special by the entire creative team behind "Reign of the Supermen"... minus Roger Stern and Dennis Janke, but PLUS Jerry Ordway (who left right before "Reign" started in '93). This is a lot like the Death of Superman special released last year, except that instead of featuring four standalone stories, this one has a framing device uniting all the tales.

In the framing story (written by Dan Jurgens and drawn by Travis Moore), the Cyborg Superman comes back to Metropolis and starts attacking S.T.A.R. Labs installations, as if those places haven't been blown up enough times already. Since Perry White is currently in a coma (from, as far as I can tell, not knowing Superman is Clark Kent), it's up to current Daily Planet editor Lois Lane to put together a story on the Cyborg without her mentor's help. Or with a little bit of her mentor's help, since Ron Troupe conveniently pulls out Perry's old journal from the "Reign of the Supermen" days, including his thoughts about the Cyborg.

So, Lois and Ron start reading Perry's notes about the four Supermen who popped up in Metropolis after Superman's death, which leads us to...

"Speed" (by Louise Simonson and Jon Bogdanove)

Despite the "Perry's notes" framing device, this story is actually told by Ron as he remembers the first time he saw Steel. Ron is leaving for work one morning and everyone in his neighborhood is talking about which of the four Supermen is the real deal. A lady called Mama Bess (who I initially mistook for Myra the Orphanage Lady because she's also big and black and surrounded by little kids) says they're all posers, including Steel, because none of them are around when you need them. Then some gangbangers drive by the neighborhood with a Toastmaster gun, and guess who drops by to save everyone's asses? Not Batman.

Mama Bess recognizes Steel's voice ("rich an' dark as Memphis honey") as belonging to that guy who was running around Metropolis helping people in crumbling buildings while Superman and Doomsday were tearing up the town, as seen in the Death special. While Steel fights the gangbangers, Ron calls Perry, who tells him to keep that lady talking so they can learn as much as possible about the mysterious armored Superman. Hey, is that Mike Carlin in the Planet offices below, to the left of adorably skinny Jimmy Olsen?

Steel prevails over the evildoers and the neighborhood kids rush in to proclaim him as the one true Superman. The best part of the story, for me, is when a little kid picks up a Toastmaster laying on the street and says he can use it to stop the bad guys, but Steel says that's a weapon for bad guys (he'd know, he designed them). Then he replaces it with an old school Game Boy and breaks the gun, Dark Knight Returns-style.

Steel tells everyone he's not Superman, he's just a dude trying to help, but Mama Bess still insists on making him a new cape to replace the one that got torn up in the fight. Ron concludes his report saying that this guy isn't the real Superman, "but maybe he was the next best thing."

"He Had Me Thinking He Was Superman" (by Jerry Ordway)

Jerry Ordway fills in for Roger Stern and Jackson Guice (who at least has a pin-up in this issue) and, man, I never knew how much I needed to see Ordway draw the Eradicator until now. In this story, Perry stumbles upon a standoff between Maggie Sawyer's Special Crimes Unit and the most violent yet Spock-like of the four Supermen, who's holding an armored goon hostage as he interrogates him.

Maggie kindly kicks Perry out of the active crime scene, but he sticks around and decides to solve this situation via the power of journalism. First, Perry talks to a warehouse worker (who kinda looks like an Amalgam of High Pockets and Lamarr) and learns about a nearby entrance to a rumored Intergang hideout. Then, he uses a radio scanner to find the frequency the goons' friends are using to communicate. He tries to tell Maggie about this, but the Superman Formerly Known As The Eradicator grabs Perry and flies off with him to find out what he knows. Perry says he'll tell him if he promises to stop being such a psychopath for a moment.

Thanks to Perry's information, the Eradicator finds the other armored goons, who are moving weapons from an abandoned Intergang cache. The Eradicator violently (but non-lethally, as promised) encourages the goons to renounce their criminal ways, and then locates the mastermind behind this operation, who turns out to be... no, not freakin' Psi-Phon and Dreadnaught, but close enough: Professor Killgrave! You know, that little twerp with the Moe haircut who once trapped Superman in an amusement park full of killer robots. Having seen how the Eradicator dealt with his hired goons, Killgrave eagerly gives himself up to the authorities.

As the Eradicator flies away from the underground base, he carelessly sends some debris flying off which almost hits some bystanders and ruins Perry's car. So, the Eradicator fulfills his promise to Perry that he wouldn't kill anyone, but Perry decides he can't keep his side of the deal, which was to tell the Planet's readers that "they have nothing to fear" from this dangerous maniac.

"The Metropolis Kid" (by Karl Kesel, Tom Grummett, and Doug Hazlewood)

This story provides the secret origin for several Superboy-related elements: the name "The Metropolis Kid" (which never made a lot of sense to me), that iconic pinup of Superboy saving a lady in a bath towel, and Mack Harlin, a recurring character who first appeared in the Superboy series in 1995. Turns out he was a Metropolis cabbie before he somehow became a truant officer in Hawaii. Note that Mack also counts as the second Mike Carlin cameo in this issue.

(Wonder if the ride was $6,50?)

In the story, Perry witnesses the moment when Don't Call Me Superboy saves that towel lady from a building fire (which she didn't notice due to her love of '90s rock, waterproof earbuds, and long, hot showers). Tana Moon's photo of that moment goes viral on Tweeter, FaceSpace, and, yes, even Insta-image, turning Not-Superboy into a social media sensation. The official story is that the Kid is Superman's clone, but Perry doesn't seem convinced. He uses his journalistic powers to find Not-Superboy at a local skate park where he hangs out. Interestingly, Perry briefly wonders if the Kid reminds him of his late son, Jerry, before dismissing the idea. I wonder if that's Kesel commenting on a certain 2000s retcon that made Superboy and Jerry biological half-brothers...

While Perry watches the Kid being a kid, he's suddenly attacked by Bloodsport -- the original one from John Byrne's Superman #4, who just busted out of jail, and not the racist wannabe. Instead of teleporting guns into his hands, this time Bloodsport is wearing a "weapons suit" that allows him to quickly assemble them on the fly. One of the guns hits Not-Superboy pretty hard, but the persistent little bugger gets up and somehow manages to disassemble Bloodsport's suit just by touching it.

As Perry later determines, Bloodsport thought the bullets would kill Not-Superboy because they were coated with a tiny bit of kryptonite, but it didn't seem to have an effect on him. That's when Perry realizes who the Kid reminds him of, with his brash attitude, big heart, endless energy, and massive potential: not Jerry (ouch), but Metropolis itself. Hence, the Metropolis Kid. Eh, I'll take it.

"Betrayal" (by Dan Jurgens and Brett Breeding)

This one begins between the pages of Superman #79, after the Cyborg Superman saves the President from terrorists but before the Planet publishes Ron's soon-to-be-infamous front page proclaiming "SUPERMAN IS BACK!" How could Perry let that story through? As it turns out, at first he didn't wanna. Perry tells Ron he needs way more proof that the Cyborg is the real Superman. That proof sorta falls on his lap when the train Perry is riding gets derailed and the Cyborg heroically saves everyone. That, plus the Secret Service vouching for this guy, are enough to convince Perry that he's definitely Superman and not an evil impostor or something.

(Note that the story makes sure to mention the "living former presidents" happened to be at the White House when the Cyborg dropped by, explaining why the Planet's front page shows Bill Clinton and not, uh, whoever was President in the DCU "a few years ago.")

So, Perry goes ahead with Ron's front page story... only for the Superman he endorsed to turn around and murder 7 million people in Coast City. Whoops. Continuity quibble: this story makes it sound like the Cyborg was immediately revealed as Coast City's murderer, when in fact he fooled everyone into thinking it was the Eradicator for several days, but maybe Perry saw through it right away because he's just THAT good of a journalist.

Perry feels awful about that front page, especially when it emerges that the Cyborg and some big yellow guy called Mongul are turning Coast City's crater into a giant engine to turn Earth into a sort of Death Star. Just when Perry is at his lowest point, Lois tells him that another Superman showed up in a Kryptonian battle armor, and this time she just knows he's the real deal (because she made out with him, but she doesn't mention that).

We see the rest of the storyline (the assault on Engine City, the Cyborg's defeat) from Perry's perspective, and once Superman is back in Metropolis, Perry tells him how sorry he is for that headline. Superman's like "nah, don't sweat it, honest mistake" and actually thanks Perry for always reporting on him with honesty over the years. Moral of the story: trust Lois, double-check Ron.

"Legacy" (by Dan Jurgens, Travis Moore, and briefly all the others)

Meanwhile, in the framing story, Superboy, Steel, and a recently-rebooted, non-evil Eradicator (or his Phantom Zone ghost, anyway) show up to stop their old pal the Cyborg, since Superman is currently in space. We learn that the Cyborg has been hitting S.T.A.R. facilities because he wants to retrieve the DNA of his three astronaut friends who were mutated into freaks during the fantastic incident that gave him his powers, so he can bring them all back to life. The Supermen understandably assume that he's building some sort of weapon and try to stop him, but he's defeated all of them before and does it again.

Royally pissed that these meddling Supermen messed with his plans, the Cyborg notices their fight left some exposed gas lines in the middle of Metropolis and is about to use them to indulge in his favorite hobby: blowing up entire cities. Luckily, the Eradicator uses some of Steel's tech to make his hologram self solid enough to whip out a Phantom Zone projector and suck the Cyborg into his ghostly prison.

As soon as the day is saved, Superman flies down and reveals that he'd been watching all along but didn't intervene because he had confidence in his boys. Everyone shares a nice little moment, until the Eradicator makes it awkward with his talk of "Kryptonian purity."

The issue ends with Lois reading a passage from Perry's journal about how Superman inspired others to be better, even in his absence. She hopes she's able to tell Perry that the same thing is true about him, because "you are our Superman." Well, their other Superman.

Like the Death special, this is an excellent excuse for these legendary creators to play with their most famous toys again, and I wouldn't mind seeing one of these a year (Battle for Metropolis 30th Anniversary Special, anyone?). I kinda wish the Supermen had been introduced more gradually/dramatically in the framing story, building up to a grand reunion, instead of being like "oh hey, there they are," but that's a minor complaint and doesn't detract much from this massive labor of love. However, there's one thing I can't forgive: still no Bibbo. -1/10.

Fun fact, my co-host Don Sparrow and I agreed we'd make this post much shorter than the insanely long one we did for the previous special, and it ended up being... about 10% shorter. Woo! We did it! See Don's take after the jump:

Art-Watch (by @donsparrow):

We begin with the cover, and it’s a great piece from the formidable team of Jurgens and Breeding. We’ve mentioned in the past the rumour that there had been a falling out between this pencil and ink team in years past, so seeing their layouts and finishes together sure feels like a treat. The composition is reminiscent of the image we used to have as the background on this very blog. I must say, I’m not a fan of the colouring technique employed here by Elizabeth Breitweister, which looks a little flat and scribbly for my tastes. The sky in particular just looks like a photograph with the contrast turned way up, and then colour filled, and doesn’t really work for me. But that’s just my opinion, I’m sure the colouring approach to this cover has many modern fans.

Inside the main through-line story is by Travis Moore, and it’s mostly quite well done, if a little stiff in places. He has a great handle on Lois Lane, and the "Reign of the Supermen" splash on page 5 is a particular highlight. I’m less enchanted with the modern-day Cyborg Superman, particularly the torn sleeve on his right arm, and the missing belt buckle. There’s generally a simplicity to the complex robotic parts that doesn’t work as well as other incarnations we’ve seen of the Cyborg Superman.

The next sequence, a reminiscence of Steel’s early days is a great showcase of Jon Bogdanove’s late style, some of which we saw in the “Retroactive” throwbacks of 2011. While Bog still employs his cartoonish rendering, the figures are generally tighter and smaller on the page than his '90s work. Fittingly, given the extra attention paid to Metropolis’ diversity in the pages of Superman: The Man of Steel, this story makes good use of a predominantly black Metropolis neighbourhood. While I’ve never fully warmed to Ron Troupe as a character, this story does give him some background, showing his neighbourhood and living situation in a way that wasn’t covered by his appearances in the '90s. (As Ron is heading to work, he’s wearing a suit and tie, though I would have loved a callback to his famed JAM sweatshirt, first appearing in the story that THIS story refers to, where Ron is involved in the verification of the Cyborg Superman as the “one true Superman”). There’s a terrific image of John Henry Irons flying at the camera on Page 11...

...and another of him destroying a toastmaster weapon on page 16 that is a standout, featuring Bog’s unique method of hatching to denote the shine of chrome. Including something like a smartphone, as they do on page 16, is an effective way of moving the story up in time, so that Lois Lane isn’t in (at least) her fifties, having covered Superman’s return in 1994. The involvement of specific Presidents later in the book hamper that slightly, but overall they do a good job of keeping it nebulous.

It was difficult to pick a favourite sequence, but I have to give it to the Jerry Ordway Eradicator story. It’s interesting to see a story by Jerry with this character, who was mostly covered by other writers (indeed, Jerry was off the books immediately after Adventures #500) and artists. Ordway hasn’t lost much zip on his fastball, as the entire story employs the usual dynamic realism and well-observed textures that we’ve come to appreciate in his work. Perry looks like himself throughout, though he reminds me of Rodney Dangerfield in the one panel of him playing with his analog walky-talky. The Eradicator’s costume has always been a terrific design, and he looks so cool as he searches for the rest of the baddies in an underground lair.

Later in the story, the image of the Last Son melting through the getaway car is an extremely tall order art-wise, and again Jerry doesn’t disappoint. As one of the two biggest fans of the triangle era, I was overjoyed to see an old-school villain like Killgrave in these pages as well.

We’re similarly treated to another original triangle era villain in the Kesel-Grummett-Hazlewood section, where Kon-El throws down with Bloodsport. While it may feel like rehash to some readers of this blog, it’s been decades since readers have seen “The Metropolis Kid” rescue Ms. Sheenan, so it’s an appreciated callback. Lots of great stuff here, but none I like more than Superboy shredding on a skateboard—a TOTALLY RAD moment, if ever.

The next section, like the cover, is something of a missed opportunity. Again, we have a stellar pairing of Jurgens and Breeding, but the art is let down by what I would say is incompatible colouring. Most of the tones are good, but the details begin to compete with the linework underneath, especially as the digital brushstrokes get scribbly, as they are on the arm of the Cyborg Superman on the title page, or perhaps worst of all, the should-be-impactful moment of the one true Kal-El emerging on Metropolis harbour. Superman is depicted red-nosed throughout, and the rendering is sketchy, where even flat colour might have given us a better look at the inks below. I get the feeling it’s all intentional—an attempt at a more painterly style, perhaps to denote that it’s a flashback. But it was a miss for me—even though I always love seeing Mongul kissing the Cyborg’s hand. [Max: He does have a very handsome hand.]

Next to Ordway’s chapter, the high point of the book is where the triangle era super-team switch, page to page, in order to tell the story. First with Jurgens and Breeding (with a less distracting colouring job), then Bogdanove, then Ordway, and finally Grummett and Hazelwood. Interestingly, the classic Superman plays no role in the fight, showing up only at the end, in an echo of the original storyline.

Finally, there’s a pin-up section, with some real standouts. While the Stern/Guice team didn’t get their own chapter in the book, that title is represented with a great image of the survival suit Superman taking flight in front of the Daily Planet. The comics logic part of my brain can’t help but notice he’s NOT wearing the Lexcorp flight boots in this image, and wasn’t able to fly under his own power in this suit, but I’m resisting pointing that out. The Daniel Sampere pinup is another nice, simple image but again I quibble, as the survival suit Superman had no cape. Is that maybe the Cyborg’s cape? It was also deeply cool to see all the trade dress and character logos at the back of that section. [Max: And the Kerry Gammill/José Luis García López promo image! Been a while since we've seen Gammill in this blog so that was a nice surprise for me.]

SPEEDING BULLETS:

I love that this story showcases Perry White’s regret about running Ron’s story that lent credibility to the murderous Cyborg Superman. They never really dealt with the journalistic repercussions of that within the story, so I love seeing an added dimension through this new narrative. They also absolve the Clintons more specifically, as the Cyborg notes that all Presidents vouched for his veracity, so it wasn’t just slick Willie who got it wrong.

I realize the Travis Moore pages are mainly a narrative device to set up the flashbacks, but there’s something off about someone as deadly as the Cyborg just aimlessly shooting up the city. As we saw when he took Doomsday’s body in Superman #78, with his power set, and technological ability, Henshaw can get in and out of a very secure place with speed and stealth, none of which do we see here. The dissonance isn’t helped by the art, which shows very empty streets for a usually crowded literal Metropolis.

The use of Perry White’s diaries as a framework for the flashbacks is a super idea, and puts a beloved character at the center of the issue, even if he’s physically absent in current day comics. (Having dropped the super-books during the Bendis run, I confess I was a little lost on that score.)

Not familiar with the skateboard term “Grommet” but it pays off on the last page of the section as Superboy gives a skateboard to “Tommy the Grommet” in a shoutout to artist Tom Grummett.

The idea of the Cyborg resurrecting the rest of his crew is an intriguing one, and it does make me wonder what an insane mirror image Fantastic Four would be like as opponents of Superman. Certainly it would even up the odds a little, as the Super squad we see in these pages had no trouble handling Henshaw on his own. [Max: I like that idea. Call them the Tragic Four.]

Overall I think I liked the Death anniversary issue a little more, as the story felt a bit more urgent than just window-dressing for flashbacks. But both are like meeting an old friend after a long time. This really was a high-water mark for Superman stories, and for comics in general.

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jesncin · 4 months

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(sorry I know you don't like talking about MAWS too much, but) do you think the voice actors did a good job with what they were given? I wish so badly that they had better material to work with, especially as a fan of many of them (ps just placed the first hold for the currently-on-order-at-my-local-library Lunar Boy! Congrats on your hard work paying off as such an epic creation, I can't wait to read it! 🎉)

I don't mind talking about MAWS (in moderation hehe)! And also, thank you for ordering Lunar Boy at your local library!! YEAAH AWOOGA!! ahem.

I know the voice actors picked for MAWS are beloved by people (and I was excited for a fresh take), but none of them stuck out to me- which I found really disappointing since I adore the STAS cast so much. Some of the reads are straight up bad. I've unfortunately memorized the show from writing detailed metas about it and, in order to cope, my twin and I have many running jokes about some of the dialogue reads asdfasf. Some faves:

ep 8's "There was an ACCIDENT and Superman CAUSED IT!" a background character says this line and it's the funniest thing in the world to me

I think Alice Lee had residue Heathers energy in her Lois performance because sometimes her line reads have a mean-girl energy for no reason. Lines like ep 4's "nobody NORMAAAL believes in aliens!" and her classic xenophobe line in ep 8 "just try being NORMALL??" whenever she says "normal" is has the energy of a prep school girlie bullying you for being gay asdfaf. This isn't adult jaded mean Lois woman energy it sounds preppy and I've decided to find joy in the pain.

"Did you LIE about YOUR FEELINGS FOR ME??" hahaha man

Sorry to pick on Alice Lee but she tripped on her lines in ep 2 when she's talking with Jimmy at the park near the end of the conversation and it's so weird. Like first-take weird.

Alice Lee again sorry but her punk edgy Lois voice in the multiverse episode is actually painful to listen to!! It's clearly an uncomfortable range for her voice. It's like a prep school girlie trying to be a butch I'm sorryyy

Jack Quaid's Superman/Clark voice was grating after a while! There's so little to no difference between his Supes and Clark voice, so Supes just sounds like a whiny child for much of the show. I yearn for Tim Daly's voice,,,

Some characters are straight up miscast in my opinion! Chris Parnell brings 0 menace or presence to Deathstroke, I can not take him seriously. Mxy's voice (David Errigo Jr) doesn't match his character design and looks the most out of place. Livewire's voice actress (Zehra Fazal, who I know is competent elsewhere and I'm sure many of these actors were just done dirty by bad writing and direction) simply can not beat the charisma of Lori Petty in STAS. And Lex looks and sounds awful, like we knew they couldn't beat Clancy Brown's STAS!Lex but they didn't even try.

I thought General Lane's actor was the most decent voice (has menace and presence) but even then in ep 8 when he says "Negative. After this operation, Superman will cease to be a problem. PERMANENTLYYYYY." HAHAHA it's so bad he hisses that last part.

Mallah's French accent is awful. Maybe get an actual French actor.

Jimmy's voice acting wasn't awful but some lines really took me out of the scene. He gets chased by robots and says "ruuuuun" in a way that actually confused me as I watched it.

Sooo yeah. Not a fan of the voice acting in this show! Which surprised me, because I figured they would do better with STAS being the last show preceding it with such memorable voices.

#askjesncin #jesncin talks maws #I feel if u wanted the energy Gilbert Gottfried brought to Mxy you would get Alex Brightman to voice Mxy #but no bring the most subdued performance of all time for your “chaos god”

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siriannatan · 1 year

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Flower Husbands Fantasy Thing

Inspired by these beautiful designs by @applestruda on Tumblr. Go see all their pretty art.

I might have based a lot of Martyn on the old sheriff

Being the winner of the tournament to decide who was worthy of challenging the demon king was never on Scott's life plan but here he was. Couple of weeks away from the capital and the Grand Oracle who said the whole thing about the tournament. Searching for a very specific smith. A smith who - according to the Oracle and the King - was capable of forging a demon-slaying sword strong enough to kill the Demon King. At least they knew more or less where said Smith lived. And after some asking in the nearby town - the local Vigil church folk were no use but a certain tavern owner knew the man Scott was looking for.

So after couple more hours of fighting with the forest, Scott has finally reached a small house with a smithy next to it nested in the woods. "Hello? Anyone there? I'm a knight from the capital?!" Scott called out after tying his horse to a low fence. She had no issue and just started nibbling at the clovers the whole clearing seemed to be covered with. "Smith Martyn?"

"I hear you, ya' whippersnapper!" an angry blonde man with a cane grumbled and mumbled as he came from the back. "What do the capital idiots want from ol' me, huh?" he asked as he completely ignored Scott and sat by the door to the house and pulled out a pipe.

"Apparently I'm supposed to kill the demon-king, at least according to..."

"Not with that toothpick you ain't," Martyn huffed. "JIMMY!" he yelled into the house what had someone drop something metal and yelp in pain - maybe it landed on their feet?

"They did tell me to..."

"Of course, they told you to find me I'm the best. Too bad for you I ain't going on any adventures. Lucky for you I know more or less where you can find the proper stuff to make the sword you want, and I'm willing to give you my apprentice. Wait here a second," he said and went inside. "Hurry up you slow-poke, grab all your important things, we're leaving...!"

With nothing better to do with himself, Scott stood there and tried to ignore even more yelling coming from inside. Was this really who he was looking for? The swords displayed in the smithy did look to be very good quality so he didn't think he was in the wrong place.

Jimmy had no idea why Martyn was telling him to pack. And the damned old man, as always, refused to explain himself so he just packed - light as he was told and left the house. What he would love to be warned about was the handsome knight currently waiting outside, one had on his sword. Dressed in silvery armour Jimmy recognised as mythrill - not a cheap material, with a white tunic with a red pattern at the low edge with a cyan overcoat. No helmet, but that made Jimmy's problem worse. He could see his handsome, flawless face, soft, fluffy cyan hair, and bluish-cyan eyes.

And he was staring at all the swords Martyn had Jimmy make for his training. And he didn't have that dumb look most of their visitors had when looking at them. And while his sword was clearly of a good make Jimmy was tempted to maybe get him to switch it for one of his. Just because Martyn always said the two of them were the best smiths out there. A knight in mythrill armour should have the best sword, right?

"Move it, Jim," Martyn's cane smacking his head had Jimmy move out of the way with a disgruntled expression.

"Mister knight here needs you to forge him a sword to kill the demon king, so here," Martyn passed him a journal Jimmy has never seen before, "is my journal, should tell you two where to find the right tools, materials and the workshop."

"But..." Jimmy was about to protest. Forge a sword to kill the demon king? Could he really do it?

"You can do it, you learned from me boy," it was probably the softest he ever saw Martyn. "Grab Wednesday, she's faster and a sword. You too knight-boy, if you two hurry you should be in town before sunset. Trust your instinct and nothing else. And if you let my apprentice get hurt demon king will be the least of your worries," Martyn huffed and Jimmy just then noticed he had a bag of his own.

"What about you?" the knight asked what Jimmy was about to ask.

"I'll be off to the capital after I set this thing burning. Gods know these fools will need me. Stay safe. Stay vigilant. May the gods keep you safe," he explained and turned away, obviously already done with them. He would not question why Martyn wanted to burn the smithy. Demon King was involved and possibly had his cronies already looking for Martyn... The old man could take care of himself. At least Jimmy hoped he did.

Jimmy just sighed and started doing as told. Sword first. "If you feel like you don't need one I'll be not offended," he told the knight.

"You made these?" he asked, already looking over one of Jimmy's most recent creations.

"Yeah, the boss doesn't really smith anymore so I had to learn pretty much from his words alone," Jimmy sighed and picked out a random sword. It wasn't like he even knew how to properly use one. "My training did not include how to swing one effectively," he quickly clarified. "Um... I'm Jimmy just... I don't..."

"I'm Scott, technically it's sir Scott, the Flower Knight but I'd rather you don't call me that if we're to travel together," the knight said with a frankly too-perfect smile. "These are all really good swords," he praised and Jimmy felt himself blush a bit. "I can teach you how to defend yourself if you'd like," he offered and grabbed two swords. One a bit longer than the other. Jimmy didn't question it as he packed a few tools and maybe a couple of daggers. Just in case.

Scott was kind of glad he got the pretty avian apprentice and not the grumpy old smith if he had to go on a quest collecting all the stuff they'd need to make the sword. And how hard can keeping one smith alive be? Especially if they are cute and hard to miss with their pretty golden wings and hair. And tall. Dear gods, Scott liked tall men too much for his own good. And to make it worse Jimmy wore baggy clothes, and was a smith, meaning who knew what was hiding under his turtleneck shirt, wrap-up sweater and blue vest. No matter what was under there Scott was pretty sure Jimmy could pick him up. Mythrill was known for being durable, strong and light.

"I'll get my horse ready..." Scott smiled after picking out the swords. He might need an extra sword before they get the special one made. And these were made by Jimmy, making them even more special. Even with just a short peruse, he knew the sword he picked would work perfectly for him. And that the sword Jimmy picked would not work well with how tall and lanky he was. Why he grabbed a second, longer sword?

Poppy, his horse, helped herself to the clovers at the edge of the clearing. She did straighten up as Scott approached, shortly followed by Jimmy and a calm chestnut horse. Wednesday he assumed from what the old smith said. Speaking of, the old man was still moving shockingly quickly around the place. "Will mister Martyn be okay?" he asked but mounted Poppy as Jimmy mounted his horse. She did not look too happy to carry the young smith.

"Martyn's damn hard to kill and much more skilled with a sword than I am... How far is the capital anyway?" Jimmy almost seemed to shrug.

"Like four days at a moderate pace... depending on the weather and the route," Scott gave a rather generous estimate. "And how many and how long breaks you'd take," he quickly added.

"Oh... He'll be fine with Blitz, he's a fast one," Jimmy nodded. He didn't look too convinced but Scott nodded along. No need to scare him too much. They were likely to encounter worse things along the road.

"From what I saw a dragon would not take him down," Scott grinned. "Shall we? The road down the mountain's quite rough."

Jimmy took one more look at the smithy and nodded. With a heavy heart, Scott nodded and led the way to town. This would be one heck of an adventure but he would do all he could to keep the young smith safe. Luckily Scott was more than just a tournament knight.

#my stuff #my stories #fanfiction #empires smp #third life smp #3rd life smp #flower husbands #scott smajor #solidaritygaming #jimmy solidarity #martyn littlewood #inthelittlewood

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