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baekhvuns · 2 years

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OP from that horrible fan call literally bragged about it too? Chan was cute and flustered?! Mf he was probably confused and regretting all his life choices which led to that day... and the fact apparently the followers gave them the idea? And not O N C E did they think it would be shitty af. Stans should stop with the dumb "pick up" lines, maybe it's a sign 🔫🔫🔫🔫

I can be the water hater alright, no problem 🚰🚫 sometimes I look at my cats and I'm so jealous of them, they lead their furry lives in peace. But also have you seen how much actual furry costumes cost?! Those people must be loaded 😭

SM events are really strip clubs, like what are the Neo men up to 😭 and remember this *chuckles* *dies*

Really EXO cb/tour? Better not be a clown moment, fingers crossed for you, btw when are they releasing Mr Byun from the captivity? Cannot believe we have to wait so much more for Taemin, he's been away for 80 years :(. Changmin DILFed, Minho must be devastated, he really tried to shoot his shot so hard during their golfing programme jdhsosusmshshsjsh

Not the JK x Diana conspiracy again I'm-

I saw that insane Army tweet and the amount of likes? Like I get it, government bad and they're obviously using BTS, but 😬 Korea when BTS isn't in the military: good vs Korea when BTS is in the military: bad. Saw someone saying "Don't get hospitalized for mental health in the next months cause it'll be all BTS stans in there" I shouldn't be laughing, but the way some of them are reacting is NOT normal behaviour

Btw vampires

Looks like the JP cb will be darker(?) also blonde Hwa in the MV AAAAAAAAAAA. Some people say it might be Cyberpunk, I mean if that gives us a music video and a live performance then fine, though I would rather hear a new song tbh. But Cyberpunk might actually sound really good in Japanese

Ddeonghwa...

Did you see Hwa talking about Seoul from Piwon teaching him how to use kaomojis I'm devastated. The boomer energy, he's so precious <333

OMFG THAT HAIR TWEET SO TRUE GOD EVERY MAN NEEDS TO SEE IT, ESPECIALLY MEN CALLED PARK SEONGHWA AND CHOI SAN. Actually Seonghwa admitted to liking long hair, San on the other hand...

Ah Lisa and Soohyuk, honestly when will Ateez get invited to fashion shows. Seonghwa pls...

Women in suits >>>> men in suits, I said what I said. I like wearing suits too. But if a man wears a suit that is a bit sparkly, maybe slutty, maybe velvet, perhaps red or pink... that's it for me

Lawyer Hwa will be like this except instead of husband bentos it'll be "a week of my client who ended up in prison bentos"

Thought you might be a Hwanose enthusiast 🤪 damn that escalated

My friend who got into kpop through BTS, then BP pulled her in again got to see them both last week. She doesn't even ult them anymore, but it was an experience nevertheless 💖

Read my mind, the predebut Hwa video I was ready to send it with "omfg the screams, same"

Shsuashahaha the KCON emoji quest when he did 😊 and jazz hands, he looked so cute, the swag pose made me wanna fight him ngl, the 💋 I'm unwell

The dragon AU: Imagine you got a big egg and some time later a fucking dragon comes out, but it's not just a dragon it's a sexy ass man

I've missed Bodyguard's 3 months anniversary 😭 should celebrate by re-reading it perhaps. Can't believe you posted it in July?!?! - DV 💖

hi hello!!!

no bc where WHERE WAS THEIR MIND WHEN THEY THOUGHT OF THAT DID THEIR MIND NOT GO TO HISTORY??? 😭😭 how does one even think of that yoooo 😭😭😭???? their mind absolutely boggles me bc wtf

FBMWBDKW I AM TOO THEYRE JUST SLEEPING IN THE WEIRDEST COMFIEST POSITIONS GETTING ALL THE HEAD PATS AND PURRING 😭😭😭 NO BC WHY ARE THEY LIKE 1000$+ ????? ABOUT TO GO STEAL AND SELL

AND THEY LOOK LIKE THIS??? ME WHEN

SM events are really strip clubs, like what are the Neo men up to 😭 and remember this *chuckles* *dies*

no fr there’s nO IN BETWEEN AND FBWNDJWK PLS NCT CONCERTS HAD ME HOLLERING ???? TAEIL???? MOON TAEIL SHOWING US ALL THE MOONS 😮‍💨😮‍💨

bestie i won’t believe it until im standing at the concert and their vcr plays atp 😭😭😭FBQKJDKW MR BYUN OUT OF CAPTIVITY LMFAOOOO FBDBDH I THINK HES COMING BEGINNING OF FEBRUARY! 😭😭🤚🏼 iSNT TAEMIN COMING BACK NEXT MONTH??? LMFAOOOO MINHO WHEN ARE U GETTING HITCHED PLS

Not the JK x Diana conspiracy again I'm-

PLS ITS SO FUNNY DBSJDHJSH BUT IM SO INTO IT,,, no bc how u gonna boycott the country your faves are from?? no ur so right,, like it’s good they are going! im sure (or form at least what ive heard) they grow up learning about the military bc their family members have gone and it’s a sense of pride almost,, so in that sense it should be a proud moment! tHE POST MILITARY GLOW UP IS SO DIFFERENT 🤌🏼🤌🏼

LMFAOOOO PLSREJDHEKDJKW THATS SO FUNNY 😭😭😭😭 NO LITERALLY THE WORLD ISNT ENDING JUST 2.5 YEARS! THERES SOLO WORKS OF THEM COMING OUT TOO!

Btw vampires

BESTIE THEY JUST DROPPED IT FBDJDH AND THE SUIT GAME??? 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨 i think it might be a new song,,, but either way cyberpunk hwa in blond 😩🤲🏼🤲🏼

Ddeonghwa...

ANON 😭😭😭🤚🏼

Did you see Hwa talking about Seoul from Piwon teaching him how to use kaomojis I'm devastated. The boomer energy, he's so precious <333

PLS I DIDNFBENDHKW HES SO CUTE WITH SENDING THOSE EMOJIS 😭😭😭 GOD BLESS SOUL FOR IT FBDNFHK

OMFG THAT HAIR TWEET SO TRUE GOD EVERY MAN NEEDS TO SEE IT, ESPECIALLY MEN CALLED PARK SEONGHWA AND CHOI SAN. Actually Seonghwa admitted to liking long hair, San on the other hand...

EXACTLY !!!! EXACTLY !!!! EXACTLY !!!!! CHOI SAN WONDERLAND HAIR NEEDS TO COME BACK BC WHAT A MAN I DONT EVEN WANNA TALK ABOUT S*ONGHWA WHY CUT WHEN U LIKED IT 🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫

Ah Lisa and Soohyuk, honestly when will Ateez get invited to fashion shows. Seonghwa pls...

begging, begging for dior to get hwa so we can get a photoshoot 😭😭 ateez have only a few shoots and wE NEED TO MORE 😭

Women in suits >>>> men in suits, I said what I said. I like wearing suits too. But if a man wears a suit that is a bit sparkly, maybe slutty, maybe velvet, perhaps red or pink... that's it for me

ur so right ur so right,, snsd with mr mr really made me go women >>>> BDWNDJJW A LITTLE SLUTTY DBEJDJ THE LIVE EXAMPLE OF THIS IS KAIS RED SUIT THAT MAN WAS SO CUNTY

Lawyer Hwa will be like this except instead of husband bentos it'll be "a week of my client who ended up in prison bentos" /// Thought you might be a Hwanose enthusiast 🤪 damn that escalated

OH MY GOD THAT CHANNEL IS MY KATE NIGHT GUILTY PLEASURE 😭😭😭 my toxic trait is thinking i can recreate them 🤚🏼 NO BESTIE FHKEFJKEDJKW THE NOSE ALWAYS GETS ME ATP ANY PHOTO I SEE OF HIM THATS WHERE MY EYES GO

My friend who got into kpop through BTS, then BP pulled her in again got to see them both last week. She doesn't even ult them anymore, but it was an experience nevertheless 💖 // Read my mind, the predebut Hwa video I was ready to send it with "omfg the screams, same"

omg wHAT A LUCK SHE HAS WHEN IS IT MY TURN DBDBDBDBDB 😭😭😭 seonghwa’s song choices are so iconic, whoever chose that wedding dress song >>>>> but bestie did u see this

Shsuashahaha the KCON emoji quest when he did 😊 and jazz hands, he looked so cute, the swag pose made me wanna fight him ngl, the 💋 I'm unwell

I AM UNWELL

HE IS SICK SICK

🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️🧍🏻‍♀️

OH AND

The dragon AU: Imagine you got a big egg and some time later a fucking dragon comes out, but it's not just a dragon it's a sexy ass man

LMFAOOOO U GOT AN EGG FROM A VINTAGE SHOP AND IT TURNS OUT TO BE A DRAGON 😭😭😭😭 sexy ass man but only as hwa >>>

I've missed Bodyguard's 3 months anniversary 😭 should celebrate by re-reading it perhaps. Can't believe you posted it in July?!?! - DV 💖

PLS ITS BEEN THAT LONG??? FUCK F E ER ELDJDK I NEED TO BUST MY ASS WRITING THIS FIC I DID MY MIDTERM TODAY AND IM WRITING THIS ITS @ 20K AND BARELY STARTED 😭😭😭😭

the vampire strikes again

a quiz!

but mingi are u sure u don’t want him as the second lead in the hwa series?

#✉️ : ask #dv 💖 anon

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ciaran-archive · 2 years

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i’m not gonna go and argue w op about this bc they’re an idiot, but

i really really need people to understand that there’s no way to use the word fujoshi as equivalent to “fetishizing cishet women” without throwing asian queer people under the bus. and continuously using that word instead of yk...just saying “homophobic straight women” does a huge disservice to all the queer fujos out there and the queer people who realized their identity due to bl/yaoi fandom. asian people have been saying this forEVER and you guys don’t want to listen like...that’s racist. you’re not leveling a critique of structural homophobia by pointing at a mostly-queer group of asian people and declaring that they’re cishet women whenever convenient for you.

i know that sometimes people have experiences where, like, some straight girl squeals in public because she sees you being queer with your boyfriend. and that’s a valid thing to be uncomfortable about but also, how do i put this, she (granting that she’s cishet in this case, which i frankly don’t think is true for most of the people who do this) is not exactly leveraging homophobia that originated in yaoi manga. this homophobia existed before that - the yaoi may be (and that’s a huge maybe) reskinning it from disgust to fascination, but it’s not creating anything that wasn’t there before. and without homophobia, this wouldn’t be a problem. being fascinated by romance is like, pretty normal. many people love seeing cute couples out in the wild, even strangers. having poor boundaries is also, unfortunately, pretty normal. tracking this confluence of factors to yaoi animanga is racist as fuck, like you’re not even in east asia and you’re blaming their queer creatives for the homophobia you’re experiencing at home. that’s fucking ridiculous.

also i’m really tired of people pretending that shame does anything for anyone. you aren’t getting anywhere or gaining anything by shaming a “cishet woman” for her intense interest in mlm animanga in fact you are 9/10 times pushing them deeper into the closet or just being like, overly into supervising other people’s sexual interests. i do not give a single flying fuck if a straight woman jacks it to gay porn for the rest of her life as long as she’s respectful to gay men irl, and if she’s not it’s not the fault of whoever made the gay porn and it’s certainly not because she watched too much of it, but in spite of that. this bizarre fascination with enforcing progressiveness via shame is actually weirdly reactionary and of course, entirely useless in terms of political praxis.

lastly, jokes aside, “bad writing” isn’t homophobia. going into a fandom tag and being inundated by poorly characterized fan fiction is not homophobia. idk how to explain this to you but like, most of the people writing this do accept gays or will when they figure things out. do you know how much shittily characterized straight fanfic is out there? how much godawful oc x character or reader x character?? this isn’t specific to mlm fanfic. it isn’t bigotry to be a bad writer. please stop saying this it makes you sound dumb as fuck.

#do not r/blog + if we r mutuals dm me or send me an ask off anon 4 context #mine

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lacontroller1991 · 4 years

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Is She Mine? (Negan x Wife!Reader)

Anon Request: can you do a negan imagine where the reader was his real wife before the walkers came and after he starts getting more wives and kinda forgets the reader, she leaves in the middle of the night. Then maybe a year later, Negan finds out about another community and tries to take their stuff but he and the saviors get captured and they find out that the reader is the leader? (Optional: maybe the reader was pregnant and Began didn’t know and finds out about the kid)

A/N: Ok I will always associate Negan with Denny Duquette because I watched Grey's before I watched Walking dead and it’s just so weird seeing Jeffrey in a completely different setting.

Warnings: Normal TWD gore, language

You watched from the back as your husband, Negan, pressed another iron to a poor man’s face, causing you to wince as the screams of pain and smell of burnt flesh invaded your nostrils. You looked toward the other wives who looked just as disgusted at what your husband was doing.

You were his first and he was never like this. Always kind and compassionate but then the dead began to rise and he felt the need to grow a shell around his personality, forming an alter ego that everyone knew. No one knew the real Negan, only you, and it made you sick to your stomach watching him turn so sadistic. Shaking your head, you walked away from the group of people that were watching the poor torturing of another worker who dared challenge Negan’s authority. Making your way to your room, you were soon joined by the other wives who ignored you for the most part. They sat throughout the room and talked amongst themselves, reading books or downing drinks that stocked the bar.

“Well would you look at this, all of my wives are looking so divine tonight,” Negan stated as you all looked at him, waiting for his next pick. Whenever he complimented his “collection” it always meant he was wanting sex and would choose one of his wives to satisfy his needs. For the past three months, it hasn’t been you. It’s never you anymore. It’s always one of the younger and prettier ones who weren’t “forced” but were forced to marry him. Swinging his baseball bat around, the girls ignored his eagerness as his eyes surveyed the room, purposely skipping the corner in which you stood, crossing your arms over the small bump that was beginning to form.

“Tina, come with me my dear,” he spoke out after a moment of silence as Tina nodded and followed him out. Once the pair left, you turned around, hiding your face from the rest of the girls before a pair of heels clicked their way over to you.

“How are you?” Sherry asked as you looked at her with an exasperated look.

“Sick, morning sickness is no joke, and he doesn't even know,” you mumbled as she grasped your shoulder in a comforting way before pulling you into a hug.

“You need to get away,” she whispered in your ear as you nodded with a frown.

“I know.”

You sat in your room, hoping Negan would join you tonight like he did when he first started the Sanctuary. As the clock ticked, however, you realized he wasn’t going to join you, again. Sighing, you sat up and tore off the black dress that hugged your figure and traded it for a pair of jeans and a hoodie, making sure to pack a bag of food and water before sneaking out of the compound and into the neighboring woods, never looking back.

That was years ago and you had joined a small community after journeying into the woods for a couple of days. Sooner than later, after their leader fell ill, the people had decided that with your knowledge and natural leadership qualities that you would be the best fit for the role. You insisted that you wouldn’t take the role, but they were insistent on the job as you had caved in. You sat peacefully on the steps of your hut as you heard a sequel from behind you, watching your daughter run out of the house, being chased by another one of the communities kids. Smiling, you were suddenly pulled out of your thoughts by the bell ringing throughout the community.

“What’s going on?” You asked one of the guards as your daughter joined your side, clutched to a scarf that you had tied around your pants for her to cling to.

“Our Ops surrounded a group of men. They demand that they speak to the leader of the community,” one of your men stated as you grabbed a walkie talkie.

“Tate, how many?” You asked and waited for a reply.

“15, they call themselves the Saviors. We have them surrounded,” Tate replied, however, you didn’t hear the rest after the mention of the Saviors.

“(Y/N)?” Earl asked, looking you over as you froze in shock. Feeling the tugging at your waist, you looked down and saw your daughter who had his hair and eye shape stare back up at you.

“Mommy, you okay?” She asked as you smiled down at her and pet her hair, smoothing out fly aways.

“Mommy needs you to stay here okay? Don’t come out until I come and get you,” you stated, motioning for one of the other mothers in the community to watch over your kid. Walking away, you grabbed one of the rifles and followed your group out to the woods to meet the man who forgot you.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” You asked from behind the line of men that barricaded the group.

“We are here to hopefully discuss trading opportunities,” Negan stated, not picking up on voice recognition.

“And by trading opportunities you mean pillaging and plundering.”

“If it comes to it, yes.” Simon spoke as you rolled your eyes, making your way through the crowd to the front to face your husband.

“Not a fan,” you spoke with rigor as you saw Negan stiffen, finally comprehending who was behind him.

“(Y/N),” he whispered, straining against the rope around his wrists.

“Hi honey. Miss me?” You asked with spite as you circled his group, coming to face him.

“As a matter of fact I do,” he admitted and for a second your face softened before turning back to a shell.

“We don't want to trade with you.”

“Babe, you should, I wouldn’t want to use force on you,” he replied with a sick smirk as you let out a laugh.

“I don't think you're in much position to bargain right now, sweetie,” you spat out as he growled and tried to launch forward to you, only to fail.

“Mommy!” Your daughter called out to you as you froze, Negan noticed and looked at you quizzically before turning his attention to the little girl who ran toward you.

“Baby, what did I say?”

“To stay back.”

“Now why are you out here?”

“I don’t have my doll,” she spoke softly as you sighed and ran a hand through your hair before pulling out her doll from your pocket.

“Is she mine?” He asked, earning confused stares from everyone in your group and his. Both groups knew that you are married, they just didn't know that you were pregnant or that your kid was Negan’s.

“It's none of your concern anymore,” you replied, pushing your kid behind you while she peered at the man in front of you.

“(Y/N), if she's mine I have the right to have her with me.”

“Not anymore, you lost that right when you started sleeping around with other women. Listen, we’ll let you go if you promise to never come back here again. if you do come back, we will kill you on sight.” Nodding, he remained silent and glanced over to your daughter who was around 4 years old now.

“Are we letting them go?” Tate asked as you nodded, walking away from the scene, taking your daughter’s hand and leading her away from her father.

Later that night you strolled through the yard and checked everything over before you heard a roar of a car come up to the gates.

“(Y/N), I think it’s him,” one of the guards yelled to you as you nodded, signaling them to let you past the gates and out to the open where Negan leaned against his car.

“Is she?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn't you tell me?” He asked with a hint of remorse scattered across his face as you looked at him.

“I tried, I tried getting you to come to my room every night to tell you but you were so busy with all of your other wives that you never did. So I ran. I knew it isn’t safe there for her, it’s not safe there for me either.”

“How far were you when you left?”

“Three months. Her name is Sarah,” you mentioned as he smiled softly and looked at you.

“She looks like you,” he mumbled as you scoffed and looked over your shoulder, looking up at the guards who had their rifles aimed at him.

“She acts like you,” you smiled meekly, running your palms down your jeans.

“I never meant to ignore you. I’m sorry I did, but I would really like to be apart of her life,” he stated as he took your hands in his and you couldn’t find the heart to pull away, missing the physical attention he gave from time to time.

“It's not going to work.”

“(Y/N), please, she’s mine. I am her father. At least let me meet her.”

“No Negan. You’re not safe for her. The sanctuary isn't safe for her. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I miss you.”

“Your pity won’t work on me. I’m not weak anymore.” “You never were,” he admitted as you locked eyes with him, drawn in by his hypnotic gaze but quickly pulled away. Thinking for a minute, you sighed in defeat.

“If you want her in your life, here are some rules. Your Saviors leave us alone, if one of them comes near here that isn’t you, your privilege to see Sarah are gone, as well as your men. You can come by twice a month by yourself and you will be supervised by me. Under no circumstance is she going to the Sanctuary. Deal?” You rambled as he nodded before pulling you into his arms, wrapping around you tightly.

“Thank you. I really do miss you,” he whispered as you stood still before slowly melting in his hug, relishing the way his body heat covers you.

“I miss you too. Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t.” He replied before pulling away and getting in his car, driving away, leaving you to ponder all of your thoughts.

A/N OMG THIS IS SO LONG TOO

#negan #negan x ofc #negan x y/n #negan x reader #Female reader #reader insert #the saviors #the sanctuary #the walking dead imagines #the walking dead requests #the walking dead #anonymous #anon request #imagine #twd imagine #jeffrey dean morgan #reader

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 4 years

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Soldier Boy (Part 2)

Summary: The reader spends the day with Dean getting to know him some more when she catches him in a lie and discovers one of his most dark secrets...

Masterlist

Pairing: Superhero!Dean x reader

Word Count: 2,600ish

Warnings: language, mentions of death, angst

A/N: Enjoy!

____

“So how old are you, Solider Boy?” you asked the next day as you walked around the park.

“Thirty,” he said with a smirk.

“Solider Boy’s been around since the second world war. So. How old are you really?” you asked.

“I was eighteen when I was injected. I’ve aged very slowly. I do age, but it’s slow. They...I shouldn’t talk about this stuff,” he said, kicking at the ground with his boot. “Ah, fuck it, it’s in the news anyways.”

“The compound V?” you asked and he nodded.

“First successful try right here. I was still going through puberty so it took,” he said. “I guess. The science is very complicated they said. They just said you want to serve your country and I signed up.”

“What year were you born?”

“January 24th, 1926,” he said. You paused and he chuckled. “I know some women aren’t into older men.”

“I must seem like a child to you,” you said, walking again and crossing your arms.

“You’re twenty nine. I’m thirty. What’s such a big deal about that?” he smiled.

“You’re sweet,” you said. You dropped your hands by your sides, Dean taking one of them in his. “Old man ain’t wasting his time.”

“Keep it up, kiddo,” he laughed. You laced your fingers together with his hand and smiled as you looked at him. A flannel and t shirt. Jeans and boots. A baseball cap on his head. He looked so ordinary and yet he was the first superhero in existence. “I’m sure you’re wondering if I ever had a family.”

“A bit. It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” you said.

“No, I want to. I don’t talk to anyone anymore. Aside from the people at Vought to try and get in The Seven but that’s like beating a dead horse at this point,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

“Apparently I’m too similar in the market sector as Homelander. Go ‘merica and color scheme and that shit. I didn’t ask to be the leader or anything. I just...want to get off the kiddie squad, go do real shit out there, help people, not the stupid stuff I do now.”

“Maybe that’s why you don’t fit on The Seven. You want to help people, you don’t care about the photo op,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep trying,” he said. “But to answer your other question you didn’t ask, no, I never had a family. I had parents and a brother but they’ve all passed away. All my friends are gone. It never seemed right to love a girl and have a family and watch them all grow old and...honestly I didn’t want to watch my children grow older than me and die. I can’t imagine anything worse than outliving them.”

“You’re a good man, Dean.”

“I had the occasional acquaintance, don’t get me wrong. But it was always casual, no titles, nothing formal.”

“Is this casual?” you asked. He shook his head and you bumped his shoulder. “What’s different this time?”

“A chemical made me this way. Maybe a chemical can unmake me this way. We are so advanced now compared to back then. Maybe I can age normally with some other combination. Maybe I’m stuck like this forever. I just know that the numb pit inside of me woke the fuck up when I met you and it has been quiet for a very, very long time.”

“My mom’s quiet a bit older than my dad. Age gaps don’t scare me,” you said. He chuckled and you held onto his arm. “You don’t sparkle like the twilight guy though right?”

“Oh my God, no,” he laughed. “No sparkles here. I do make sparks when bullets bounce off of me though.”

“Well now you’re just bragging,” you said. You rested your head on his arm, thinking back to a movie you used to watch as a kid, Solider Boy the lead in the thing. “Dean.”

“Hm?”

“Why did you just lie about not having a family?” you asked, pulling away from him. You knew you could have let it go, should have let it go for the sake of the mission but damn you were pissed off at him for lying to you. You crossed your arms and he frowned, going over to a nearby bench. You sat down next to him, Solider Boy rubbing his hands together. “You were in this movie my brother loved so I watched it all the time. He was a huge fan and he would never shut up about you. I never paid much attention but I remember. You had a wife and kids once.”

“You’re gonna leave after I tell you this part,” he said, a sad smile on his face.

“I’m gonna leave if you don’t tell me the truth right now. You will never see my face again. You promised you would not lie to me. Out with it Dean.”

“I wasn’t always a good person. It’s very...difficult to stay good when there’s so much bad around you. When there’s no consequences.”

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

“My son and daughter died hating me, thinking I was a monster. They died because of me. That was the breaking point for me. I walked away after that, I started over. I’d turned into this thing I didn’t recognize. I became Soldier Boy. Dean Winchester...he died back in that war. Not until the nineties did I realize what had happened to me. So I left. Went away from the world. Brought Dean back to life and Soldier Boy came back but different. Good this time. Greed, corruption. It’s not happening this time. Then you said...you made that comment about me being naive, that I’d turn eventually into an asshole supe like the rest of them. I’m terrified of that happening to me again. Maybe that’s why I like you, cause you’ll remind me not to be a monster again.”

“Why do you call yourself a monster?” you asked quietly.

“The first time I killed someone, I was mortified. The last time I did it, I laughed. It made me happy. I hurt him before I did it even. I stopped caring about people. My wife wanted a divorce. I thought she was hot, she fit my image. I told her I didn’t want one so she took some pills and told me she’d rather die than live with the devil. My kids were young adults, late twenties. I snapped at them when they blamed me for their mother’s death. My son hit me so I pushed him and he hit his head. My daughter ran out, afraid of me and was hit by a car. They died because I didn’t want to lose my image. I wasn’t even that upset at first. I thought a widow superhero, that’ll boost my numbers.”

“If that didn’t…” you said, Dean running his hands over his thighs. “What made you change?”

“I found a drawing my daughter had made me when she was small,” he said. He took out his wallet and unfolded a laminated sheet of paper holding it out to you. It was done in crayon, a few stick figures with one of them wearing a superhero outfit and the word “daddy” written above it. “She loved me once. I ripped it away from her. I found that cleaning out the house and I realized what I’d done. I’m worse than any bad guy there ever was for doing that to them. I stopped caring. When you stop caring is when you lose those bits of your soul. They break off until there’s nothing left. I am a monster, Y/N. Nothing I ever do can make up for it and save whatever shattered pieces are in there. But I owe it to my kids to be good and stay good.”

You handed the sheet back and he tucked it away, his wallet going in his pocket as he stared out at the trees across the path.

“I understand if you would no longer like to see or speak to me again. Or if you want to slap me in the face. That’s also acceptable,” he said.

“What year was all of this?” you asked.

“They died in ‘92. Then I ran away to Kansas, worked as a farmhand for a while,” he said. He rubbed his palm and stared down at his lap. “Just...be careful at night and try to stop walking down alleys for me, okay?”

“Why are you saying that?”

“I’m never going to see you again after you get up from this bench.”

You stood up and he let out a sigh. You took a step to your left and sat down closer to him, turning your head as Dean looked so horribly confused at you. You couldn’t walk away. It wasn’t an option. But while you knew you couldn’t walk because of the mission Butcher had you on, you didn’t want to. There was so much self-hate inside of Dean he hid well and part of you ached that he considered himself sub-human.

“Y/N, what are you doing?”

“Dean. What happened to your family was horrible but they were accidents. Your daughter, your son. Your wife, did she even let it sink in for you before she did that? If I was married to someone and they suddenly asked for a divorce my gut reaction would probably be no too. I’m not saying you didn’t play a part but those were her actions that trickled down and affected the rest of you. Letting yourself become corrupted means you’re human. We all make fucking mistakes. Yours are a little big, I admit that. But you try to make up for it. All you can do after the fact is try and you’re doing that. There’s a soul in there Dean. If there wasn’t this wouldn’t be eating you alive. Cut yourself a break. I gotta process everything you said but I’m not walking away. Promise you will never lie to me again and I can promise you that I won’t judge you, no matter what you’ve done.”

“I’ve been around 95 years and I’ve never met anyone like you,” he said. “That’s a good thing. I will never lie to you again. I swear. I’m sorry. I was...frightened of telling you who I was deep down. I like you. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s the first bit of happiness I’ve felt in a long time and I don’t want it to go away just yet.”

“It’s okay that you were scared. Maybe on our third date we can have a less intense conversation. We can talk about how you’re older than sliced bread,” you teased.

“You youngin’s don’t know how good you got it,” he chuckled. You took his hand into your lap and he smiled. “Not a monster to you?”

“No. Just be a good guy and I’ll be happy,” you said. You leaned over and kissed his cheek, Dean looking you up and down.

“I wish I knew you when I was a dumb kid that let them shove that stuff in me. I never would have said yes if I had a girl back home.”

“Well, from now on, maybe just ask if you think I’d be proud of what you were doing. If the anwer’s no, maybe don’t do it,” you said.

“I’m gonna keep that one,” he said. “Also did you subtly drop that I’m getting another date despite all of that?”

“You told me the truth, even though it was hard. That’s why I like you too,” you said. “Plus you’re really old so you must have like, sex down to perfection by this point.”

“Gonna blow your fucking mind,” he teased. “Eventually. I know things are different nowadays but…you’re special. You’re not a hookup.”

“When you’re ready, you let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?” He nodded and you gave him a hug, Dean hesitant at first but he quickly relaxed into it. “You alright?”

“Been a long time since I had a hug is all.”

“You need one, just come to me,” you said. You sat back and he smiled. “So. Let’s go do something fun. You look like you could use it.”

“Night,” murmured Dean as he kissed you at your doorstep that evening.

“Night,” you said, not moving away from him just yet. His ears perked up and he forced himself away. “Trouble?”

“Yeah. Nothing major. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.

“Bye Dean,” you said, watching him take off running far faster than any human man could. You smiled as you locked up, a loud thud coming from your kitchen. You unlocked the door and looked around. “Hello?”

“For such a nice house you have an incredibly small kitchen,” said Butcher as he walked out with the bottle of your nicest bourbon.

“Oh come on, that was a housewarming present,” you said.

“I swipe you some more,” he said, taking a long swig. “How’s it going?”

“Good. We got close today but Butcher you seriously can not come back here again. Dean was this close to coming inside tonight.”

“Dean. I thought he was Solider Boy.”

“You know what I mean.”

“You want to wind up like his last broad did? You give him the puppy dog eyes and then we make a move,” he said.

“I’m starting to think we might get further with sugar over spice. Billy he wants to make up for his past. If he gets into The Seven he could be a serious asset.”

“Are you going soft on me?” he asked, an edge in his voice.

“Let me work him the way I know best. Trust me,” you said.

“Don’t forget what this is for. You call when you’re ready,” he said. “Don’t take too long.”

He left out the back and you sighed, running your hands over your face. Sure, Dean had done some bad things in the past but who hadn’t? He wasn’t playing you, he had no reason to. The part of you that wanted revenge was still there but he didn’t cause your brother to die, not really. He was simply a prime target at the moment.

You swallowed and went to the kitchen, taking the bottle of alcohol to the family room. You sat on the couch and took a swig, letting it burn your throat.

You didn’t want him to get hurt. You liked him. A lot. Maybe you could convince him to go away, be someplace safer. Your head turned when you got a text, the alert saying it was from Dean and him asking you if you wanted to get out of the city and go hiking tomorrow.

Maybe that’d be a good time to tell him the truth. He was bound to find out eventually and if he got mad, at least you’d be the only one in danger. Billy’s voice was at the back of your head but you ignored it. He’d been angry for too long, couldn’t see the good in people anymore. Dean wasn’t what you thought he was at first. He was good deep down.

You’d tell Solider Boy the truth tomorrow and hoped you lived to see the next day.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #au!dean x reader #spn fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #superhero!dean x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanfiction

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angryschnauzer · 4 years

Text

In Another World

Summary: In another world, it was Jensen that got the role of Captain America, not Chris. You have dreamed of meeting Jensen ever since you saw him in his CGI glory in The First Avenger, and your comicon experience you discover to be underwhelming. But then you meet a cosplayer in the bar... and life takes an altogether different turn for you.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Comicon, Comic Convention, Strangers at a Bar, Cosplay, Captain America Cosplay, Unprotected Sex, Hotel Room Sex, Oral Sex, Fingering, Blow Job, Anal Play.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Female Reader (no race specified)

The above Jensen manip i cannot trace, it was sent to me years ago by a now deactivated tumblr user, with the signature half chopped off. Its the artwork that inspired this fic. In case you weren’t aware, Jensen auditioned for the role of Captain America but it of course went to Chris.

I do not operate a tag list, but feel free to go ahead and follow @angryschnauzerwrites and put that blog onto notifications, as you will then be notified when i post a new story. Oneshots will be posted on Tumblr and AO3, Multichapter stories will be AO3 exclusives.

Due to the amount of stories i have written over the years i no longer have a masterlist, instead please check out my AO3 HERE.

In Another World

You sat at your computer, staring at the screen as you streamed the latest press junket. Marvel was going all out with its ten-year plan for The Avengers and with this press tour for The Winter Soldier you had fallen in love even more with Cap.

As the images streamed live from the far east, you watched as Jensen flexed his muscles and his co-stars laughed in admiration. He was born to be Captain America.

But you weren’t the only one watching.

In a small apartment in Boston another pair of eyes watched with an added level of sadness. He remembered the audition. Standing in the hallway with a bunch of other guys, all in their 20’s, all having a few bit-part roles under their belts in teen TV shows or low budget horror movies. The same green eyes that stared out of the screen had looked at him in the hallway, holding his hand out to shake;

“Hey man. Jensen”

“Chris”

Jensen smiled;

“Strong Boston accent there dude”

Chris chuckled;

“Say the same about you, what’s that Houston?”

“Dallas”

“Eh, close enough”

They chatted for a while as the guys ahead of them in the line entered the room, only to leave 5 minutes later. They didn’t look up at the guys left, no-one wanted to read expressions to give themselves fake hope. The door opened and the annoying droll voice of the elderly secretary called out;

“Ackles”

Chris looked up, holding his hand out to his new acquaintance;

“Break a leg man”

Shaking it briefly Jensen nodded;

“Thanks man”

You clung to your priority tickets, the excitement so intense you weren’t sure if you were going to puke or cry. You hoped for neither. It was your first convention and you had maxed out your credit card and called in sick from work when the special edition tickets had been released, refreshing your computer every ten seconds so that when they had been released online you had made your purchase within 30 seconds.

Now standing towards the front of the queue you were terrified. You had loved Jensen from the first moment you’d seen him in all his CGI glory in The First Avenger. You’d followed his career and had even gone back and watched his entire back catalogue. He was a natural for the role and the stealth suit from the most recent movie had made him look so handsome you had actually swooned when you had seen those first opening scenes of the movie aboard the Lumerian Star.

The con volunteers were doing an amazing job, herding the fans into some form of order, and as you got closer you could hear the laughter and squeals of joy as fans ahead of you were rapidly shown in.

It was your turn. The flimsy black curtain was pulled aside, and you were pushed into the brightness of the well-lit area that was surrounded on all sides by vivid blue panels that bore the con’s logo. Jensen turned and smiled, putting his hand out and you found you were standing next to him. Your head swam;

“Do you have a pose?”

“Umm…” You could see the con workers and volunteers moving their arms in a ‘hurry up’ motion; “I guess… a hug?”

“Sure thing”

He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pointed towards the bored looking photographer;

“Smile sweetie”

You did. You smiled, your saw blobs as the flash blinded you. You didn’t even register as Jensen pressed his hand to your back, thanking you before turning to the next person who had already been pulled through the black curtain. A volunteer took your wrist and pulled you gently through the curtain on the far side, giving you your photo number as they apologised it was so fast.

The curtain closed and you stood there, blinking as you tried to focus on the small piece of paper you held. It was done. Over. You’d met Jensen and it had been so rushed you hadn’t even had chance to look at him.

The bile started to rise, you looked around and saw a trash can, leaning over it and vomited into the piles of used coffee cups and candy wrappers.

The hunt for a bottle of water at a con hadn’t been something you would think would take so long; a lot of the vendors had already sold out, others the line was so long it would have taken you longer to get the water than the queue for the con in the first place. It seemed as if everyone was walking against you, or you were going against the flow of them, but when you finally got your water you drained the entire bottle, soothing your bile parched throat. Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand you heard an announcement over the PA system;

“We apologise, but the Jensen Ackles panel won’t be broadcast out of the auditorium due to technical issues”

“WHAT?” you grabbed your wrist, looking at your watch as your eyes went wide. You’d been so dazed by your photo op and feeling ill afterwards you had forgotten about the panel. You needed a drink, and something stronger than water.

Chris adjusted the helmet of his costume as he looked in the mirror. The men’s room was quiet, the main panel of the con was on and he couldn’t bring himself to sit in the same room as the guy that had won the role that had made him millions; of fans and dollars.

After not getting the Captain America role Chris had continued to take bit parts and small independent movies. He was recognised occasionally but he hadn’t hit the big time. In fact there were months when there was nothing coming in and it was only after someone had asked him to fill in at a kids party where one of the superhero guys had fallen sick at the last minute did the idea of cosplaying come to him. Now however he was well known in cosplay circles, even getting paid for some appearances. He was called a natural for the role, but that was the hardest to hear. He’d worked hard with his costumer and within just a few weeks of the latest movie coming out they’d successfully recreated the amazing Stealth Suit in its darker colours.

Checking his pants for his wallet he decided he needed a drink, and something stronger than a soda.

Nodding to the bartender, you thanked him as he set the beer down in front of you before he went to the far end of the bar to pull the latest load of glasses out of the dishwasher. You sat picking at the label and tracing patterns in the condensation that gathered on the cool glass. You were vaguely aware of other people coming and going, and when the barstool next to you was taken you didn’t look up.

“What’ll it be Cap?”

The bartender’s greeting drew your attention from your drink, casting your gaze to your side and your breath was sucked from your body. You watched as the man set his helmet onto the surface of the bar before nodding to what you were drinking;

“Same as the lady please”

Your eyes travelled from where his hand sat on the countertop of the bar up the dark sleeve of his stealth suit, taking in his wide shoulders and up to the fluffy dark blonde hair, slightly messed up from where he’d been wearing the helmet. You couldn’t help it, but you were staring. Your jaw was hanging low as he turned slowly to you, his blue eyes sparkling with just the faintest hint of green as he looked at you and a self-conscious smile tugged at the corner of his mouth;

“Hi…”

“You’re… you’re…”

“No, just cosplaying…” he turned back to his beer for a moment until you finally found your voice

“No. You’re Chris”

He set his beer on the countertop and turned to you, this time a genuine smile on his face;

“Do we know each other?”

“Well…” you blushed; “We spoke on Instagram” He cocked an eyebrow, but his attention didn’t waiver from you as you continued; “You’re ‘AlmostCap’, right? You posted about wanting advice on how to dye leather boots a deeper colour? I messaged you with the details of the dyes costumiers use”

His face broke into a wide smile;

“Oh yeah, that really worked! How did you know that?”

“Majored in theatre design at college”

“Well that titbit of knowledge brought the whole costume together” he motioned to his stealth suit and you couldn’t help but to look him up and down; “Without you I wouldn’t look this good”

You snorted back a laugh;

“I’m sure you look just a good without the suit”

Bringing your beer to your lips you took a sip, not realising Chris had moved closer until his lips brushed against your ear;

“Would you like to find out?”

The hotel room door crashed against the wall, the metal doorknob leaving a dent in the drywall. Chris had you pressed up against it, one hand holding you flush with his chest as his other hand blindly reached out for the door to close it. As soon as his fingertips grasped the cool wood he threw it shut with a thud that reverberated through the room.

Your hands clawed at Chris’s costume, desperate to find purchase, something, anything to hang onto and anchor yourself as he kissed you so hard you saw spangled stars. He’d put his costume helmet back on for the rather quick walk through the convention to the hotel where you were staying. His lips traced patterns over your cheek before he pressed kisses down your neck, whispering as he went;

“I don’t normally do this…”

“Me neither…

“...especially in costume…”

“Oh Chris…Cap…”

“It’s Captain tonight, Princess”

His fingers had found their way to the buttons on the front of your dress, skilfully plucking each one from its grasp on the thin cotton fabric, before his still gloved hand roughly cupped your breasts. As his lips found yours again, he groaned into your mouth as he weighed your breasts in his large hands, the rough leather against the lace of your bra sending chills through you. If Chris had a Captain kink you weren’t about to say no, hell, it would be one of your biggest fantasies.

You found yourself being manhandled towards the bed, Chris’s kisses hard and ravenous, and when he wasn’t kissing you his tongue was doing the most devilish things on your skin. The bed touched the back of your knees and you were falling back onto the covers, Chris following seconds later as he pressed you into the mattress. With a thick thigh he pushed your legs apart, the rough Kevlar fabric of his suit brushing against the delicate skin of your soft skin as his fingers sought out the juncture of thighs. The brush of the harsh leather of his fingerless gloves made you groan into his mouth as he tugged your panties to the side and his thumb found your clit. Rubbing small circles, he teased it from its hood, before his fingers slid through your folds to ease some of your slick moisture from you to smooth his efforts.

When his lips left yours you chased after them, but his voice made you settle back against the bed and open your eyes;

“Uh-uh… stay there Princess”

You watched as he brought his fingers to his mouth, before his kiss bruised lips closed around his glistening digits and he moaned as he tasted you;

“You taste amazing”

“Umm… thank you?”

“Here…”

He brought his hand to your mouth and you grasped it as you sucked gently on just the fingertips, watching as Chris’s already lust blown pupils widened even further;

“Jesus fucking Christ, your tongue…”

Letting go of his fingers with an audible pop, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, resting on one arm as you slid a hand between your bodies and palmed his erection through his suit;

“What about my tongue?” you grinned before you tugged him down to lay beside you.

Pushing up onto your knees you ran your hand down his chest and stomach, the costume warm from his body heat and firm to the touch. Your fingers clawed at his suit to try and find the zipper, and after thirty seconds of searching you let out a huff;

“Ok, how the fuck to I get in here?”

With a low chuckle Chris reached down and lifted a hidden Velcro flap that revealed the button and the top of the zipper, and you eagerly tugged the pants of his suit open. The large bulge in his boxers immediately filled the space of the open zipper, and you found yourself nuzzling against the hardness that the soft jersey fabric could hardly contain. Pressing open mouthed kisses to the hard shaft through the fabric, you felt Chris’s hands on your head, he wasn’t pushing but you could tell he wanted you. With a smile you just about tugged his boxers down enough to free his cock, the thick shaft standing proud from the fly of his stealth suit. You wrapped your hands around it, the flesh hot to touch and pumped him slowly.

“Ah fuck Princess…”

“Yes Captain?”

“Please…”

He sounded wrecked, and as you leant forwards and licked at the bead of clear precum that was pooling at the tip you not only heard but felt the low rumble of his moan of appreciation. Wrapping your lips around the tip you started to suck, your tongue working over the hot smooth flesh as your fist worked up and down, pumping him slowly as you let the saliva pool in your mouth so you could take him deeper. In a moment when you pulled off to take a breath Chris’s hands were suddenly on your hips, moving you until you were kneeling on the bed and straddling his shoulders, and for a moment you squealed where his sudden strength had moved you with such ease.

“Gotta taste you…” he muttered from beneath the skirt of your dress, his hands smoothing over the globes of your ass and you could feel his breath hot on your skin. His fingers tugged your panties to the side and he was pulling you down onto his mouth, his tongue swiping through your soaked folds.

For a moment you lost yourself, Chris’s efforts driving you closer to orgasm than you thought was possible, but you found your senses and leant forwards again, taking him as deep as you could and you felt his moan deep in your cunt as he almost came on the spot. Working your fingers into his suit you cupped his balls, feeling them tight and hot in your hand as you sucked hard on his cock. At the same time you felt Chris drive his tongue into your soaked hole and his thumb sought out your clit. Your orgasm was rapidly approaching, and you could feel your legs start to shake. The harder he drove forwards the deeper you took him into your mouth. You heard a muffled cry from between your thighs and you felt that first tremble of the thick vein that ran the length of his cock. At the same time you felt his fingers dance over the crack of your ass, one finger pressing lightly against your dark rose and you were cumming over his face as he pumped thick ropes of cum down your throat.

When your legs were about to give out you tactfully rolled to the side, laying on the bed next to Chris as he fought to catch his breath. With laboured efforts he wrenched his helmet off, and you propped yourself up on your elbows to watch as he started to fumble with his costume;

“Gotta get out of this…”

Watching a hot guy strip was not something you’d experienced before, and a hot guy dressed as Captain America? Well that was hitting all your buttons in one go. You smiled as Chris was muttering to himself;

“Fuckin’ suit, so fuckin’ hot… fuckin’ drenched in sweat…”

When he was down to just his pants you finally spoke up;

“Need a hand there Captain?”

Chris looked up and grinned;

“You mind if I use your shower?”

“Sure thing, it’s all yours…”

Chris started for the small bathroom door, his utility pants hanging low on his hips before he paused and turned, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth;

“Wanna join me?”

Showering with a guy you had literally just met was a surreal experience. The comfort and security of being partially clothed during a hook-up was completely stripped from you as you stood in the small shower enclosure the hotel room offered. Chris had looked absolutely sinful as he had stood beneath the cascading water; his skin patterned with multiple tattoos and just the right amount of chest hair that made you want to run your fingers through it as the hot water coursed over his body. Your fingers had trailed down over his hard stomach, tracing the trail of hair that led to his thick cock hanging heavy between his muscled thighs.

His lips had met yours eagerly again, and he soon had you pressed against the wall, his leg wedged between your thighs as you ground yourself against the firm muscle. Chris’s hands found your ass and eagerly pulled you hard against him, trapping his now angry cock between your bodies;

“Fuck… you’re so fuckin’ sexy” he muttered against your ear, his fingers digging into your asscheeks; “You gonna cum for me Princess? Soak my thigh?”

“Yes Chris, please…”

“What do you need Princess?”

“Something…. Just more…”

He pulled back from you, searching your expression for something, anything as he chose his words;

“I can give you more…” The depth of tone sent a shudder down your spine; “I’m gonna ask you this and you can say no, and I won’t walk out that door if you say no, but do you like ass play?”

You growled. You god-damn growled like a feral wildcat, nodding eagerly;

“Yes Chris… fuck, yes…”

He captured your lips for another fierce kiss as his hands slid over your ass and one finger trailed up the seam of your cheeks before pressing gently against your rear;

“Now Princess” he muttered against your lips; “I haven’t got any lube in here so it’ll just be a gentle press, you tell me if you want me to stop”

You nodded, biting your lip as he pushed forwards, one hand gripping your hip as he slid you up and down his soaked thigh, the other pressing gently but insistently against your back door.

Just that stimulation alone was enough, and you were cumming hard, your head pressed against the cool tiles as Chris sucked a hickey into your neck.

You stood there panting as you tried to regain your composure, Chris holding you tight in his arms as he gently caressed you as you finally came to your senses. Nuzzling against his neck you felt him push his hips forward, his thick cock hard again against your hip;

“Ready for another round?”

“Anything for you Cap” you grinned.

The pair of you had fallen back onto the bed, half dry and oblivious to anything other than pleasure. Body heat rising, you felt your back naturally arch as Chris lay on top of you, pulling his knee up to part your legs further and you could feel his thick length laying hot and hard against your soaked folds. As his other leg pushed up and parted your thighs even further, you felt that first nudge of his tip at your soaked entrance, your legs instinctively wrapping themselves around his waist and with one firm squeeze you felt his breach your body and slide into you.

The base noise that escaped your throat as you felt each glorious inch stretch your velvet walls was music to Chris’s ears, and he let you take the lead even though he was the one on top, letting your body grow accustomed to his size. His lips brushed against your ear as he spoke softly;

“You’re doing so good Princess, feel so fuckin’ amazing, takin’ me so deep”

You slowly relaxed your thighs grip on his waist and Chris started to move, sliding his hips back as he slid out, before pushing slowly back in. Propping himself up either side of you, you watched as his arms bulged as he looked down and watched as he pulled out again, your wetness liberally coating him.

With his tip just notched inside you whined at the loss, before with a powerful thrust he filled you completely;

“Holy FUCK!”

“Do you like that Princess? Like my thick dick splitting you open?”

“Fuck Chris, yes, do it again… please!” you whined.

The gorgeous man above you grinned down, seemingly turned on by your begging, and with a loud grunt he started to pile drive into you, his impressive girth stretching you in all the right ways, the slight upward curve to his shaft making your g-spot his number one target with every push. The man was a demon in bed, fucking you hard as he pressed kisses to your chest and breasts, all whilst uttering the dirtiest things about how good you felt, how well you were taking his dick. You begged for more and he eagerly gave it, fucking you through one orgasm before chasing another. His thrusts started to get sloppy, his hips stuttering and he cursed quietly under his breath;

“Fuck… I’m gonna cum soon…”

“Cum inside me… I’m on the pill…”

He pushed a hand between your bodies, rubbing hard circles against your clit and soon you were coming, your orgasm triggering his, and you as your body milked the cum from his body you both felt like you had found heaven.

With a grunt Chris rolled to your side, his dick sliding out of your soaked channel and he lay on the bed, his head propped up on one elbow, his dick full and swollen at your hip, still shining with your combined fluids. Your body trembled with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm, and you practically purred when Chris gently ran his fingertips over your breasts;

“That was fuckin’ amazing… I’m probably going about this the wrong way, but can I buy you dinner?”

“That’d be nice”

Dinner had been a fun affair; you had redressed, and Chris had worn his stealth suit pants but just wore the thin Under Armour undershirt instead of the full suit. Although the hotel was well used to people in cosplay costumes during the conventions using their facilities, Chris didn’t want to draw attention to himself, instead he wanted his sole attention to be able to be on you rather than people asking for photos. Throughout your meal the conversation had been fun and light, Chris telling you how he had in fact auditioned for the Marvel role but didn’t envy the craziness that came with the now worldwide recognition that Jensen had to put up with. You had explained how you now worked for a theatrical costumer’s agency on the West Coast, but had heard about some openings for a new series production out of Vancouver.

Chris laughed softly;

“Typical… I fall for a girl that lives on the opposite side of the country”

“You… you’ve fallen for me?”

Chris paused, resting his hand over yours;

“I’m sorry, I’m kinda sappy when it comes to relationships… and I gotta be honest, when I saw you at the bar, I recognised you from your Instagram and when you helped me… I was trying to play it cool…” he took a deep breath; “I hope I’m not scaring you off…”

Leaning forward you pressed a kiss to his cheek;

“No… it’s nice… its more than nice…”

Once the meal was over the pair of you stood in the foyer, unsure what to do before Chris pointed out the rest of his costume was in your room.

“Where are you staying tonight?”

“I was meant to be crashing on a friends couch”

Grinning you pulled him close;

“Did you want a bed rather than a couch?”

“Fuck yes”

Minutes later you were crashing in the door to your room, Chris’s hands and lips trying to cover every inch of your body, and this time with the knowledge of how his costume worked you knew exactly how to get his pants open, tugging them to the floor as you pushed him into one of the chairs and knelt at his booted feet. With his dick in your mouth he was soon hard again, but that was when he took control, standing and moving you until you were knelt on the soft chair arms looking out of the high rise window over the convention center and city below, the lights of the city oblivious as he flipped your skirt up and pulled your panties down, and filled you with one smooth thrust;

“Fuck… this pussy is fuckin’ perfect, you feel like heaven…”

Wrapping his strong arms around you he pulled you flush with his hard chest, sucking at your neck as his dick rubbed so beautifully against your g-spot you were coming again, screaming out your release as Chris pulled out and lifted you, pulling you to your feet before you found yourself pressed against the wall and he filled you again.

Clinging to his wide shoulders you felt him filling you over and over, your pleasure climbing higher than you ever thought possible. Chris’s strong arms were holding you up, his large hands gripping your ass as he fucked you into the wall, your legs wrapped around his narrow waist;

“Chris, I’m gonna cum…”

“That’s it, cum for me, let me feel that pussy milking me as I fill you up… you feel so good, I’m never letting this pussy go…”

As you came so did he, your walls squeezing him so tight he thought he may pass out from the sheer pleasure. For the longest time he just held you there, your bodies joined until Chris’s dick softened enough to slip out of you. Letting your feet fall to the ground you kissed as you made your way to the bed, falling onto the mattress before wrapping the covers around your flushed bodies, falling asleep soon after.

The sound of a phone ringing pulled you from sleep, the warm body next to you grumbling at the sound before it rapidly jumped out of bed;

“Fuck, that’s my phone”

Through bleary eyes you watched Chris’s naked ass as he rummaged through the piles of clothing on the floor, finding his phone and answering it just in time;

“Yeah… uh-huh… for real?! Yeah absolutely! Send me the details, I’ll be there!”

You watched as he listened a little longer before ending the call, turning to you and he had the biggest smile on his face;

“I might have gotten a part!”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“Yeah, they want me to do some screen tests with a possible co-star, see if there’s chemistry”

Jumping out of bed you ran and hugged him, kissing him deeply as he carried you back to the bed;

“I feel like celebrating… how about breakfast in bed?”

“Ok, I’ll call room serv… oh…”

Chris was pushing your legs apart and kissing up your inner thigh, and that’s when you realised he was talking about a different kind of breakfast in bed. As you lay back and enjoyed the magic he could perform with his tongue, you blissed out from pleasure.

Three Weeks Later

Chris finished the last scene, the director calling cut and he grinned as he looked at his castmates. None of them could quite believe how they were there, standing in a cold and rainy British Columbia small town, with writers and directors that had been trying to get their series picked up for years.

The rest of the cast of ‘Supernatural’ was a small ensemble, and having been given the role of the older brother; Dean Winchester, Chris felt at home with the role and had been given he contract straight after his screen test with his on screen brother Sam. Laughing with the actor that played Sam - a native New Yorker by the name of Sebastian - the two of them had immediately clicked and their friendship and on screen chemistry shone through the camera.

“Hey Evans, Stan!”

The sound of the producer’s voice caught Chris’s attention;

“Yeah?”

They need you two back at the studio, costume fitting”

“Sure thing”

The sound of the small doorbell that had been fitted on the counter drew your attention from the racks in the back room, calling out for your new arrival that you’d be out in a second. The job you’d applied for in Vancouver had pulled through, and it was your first week. A new show that needed a lot of men’s casual wear, yet things like jeans and jackets needed seams strengthened for fight scenes and pockets added for prop weapons. You were yet to meet the two main stars of the show, the casting having not been fully finalised until just days ago, and everything was hush-hush until it was going to be announced at one of the late summer conventions.

Dumping the armfuls of clothing onto the counter you turned and almost fainted;

“Chris?!”

For a second he looked in shock before he vaulted the counter, and took you into his arms;

“You’re here? You’re really here?”

“You’re the star?! You didn’t tell me!”

You kissed him deeply, before a quiet cough from behind Chris drew your attention, Chris turning;

“Seb, I want you to meet the girl I was telling you about”

The other guy raised an eyebrow;

“You’re THE girl? Wow, it’s a pleasure to meet you” he held his hand out over the counter and you shook it, Chris still holding you in his arms; “I’m Sebastian but everyone calls me Seb”

Looking at the two of them you knew in that moment the show was going to be a hit, and you looked forward to making these two look even better on screen… if that was even possible.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans smut #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you

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faangirl101 · 4 years

Text

Revolution pt 1, Spec op guys x reader

PART 2

Pairings: Alpha/tank x reader,Riot/reader

Warnings:smut, pain

Authors note: I am in love with the protesting spec ops guys soooo, heres a little something. Hope you like

I raised my tear gassed eyes, trying to take in my surroundings. The ringing in my ears was pounding so hard i could've swore it made the ground around me shake under my scraped up palms. All i could make out in front of me was blurry fronts of people running fot their life. Well one figure wasn't moving, even though smoke was devouring him. His huge frame, seeming to stretch for 7 feet clothed in military level protection gear, bended forward to pick up the hand smoke grenades flying his directions. He grasped it in one go and sent it twirling in the police force directions. I could hear stressed calls from the other side as the man seemed to take a few steps back. His stance was in defense, ready to catch more grenades.

"Hey girl! You gotta move", i could barely make out the slurred calls from behind when the ringing in my ears was getting worse. The man in front of me threw a look behind him to see what the fuss was about when he caught my eye. Well i suppose it was his eye, it was hard making out behind the spec ops mask over his face. Before i could open my mouth he was rushing over at me. Even if his figure seemed miles away it was right in front of me in a few steps thanks to his huge legs. "Move", the masculine voice was muffled by the mask but i could still make out the tint of annoyance. Finally i realized my surroundings. The shock and adrenaline rushed off and i could feel the pain moving similar to a fog across my slumped body. I groaned as i rasped my palms against the rough asphalt. The man made a huff as he grasped my arms in a hard grip, so hard i bet it would bruise more than the impact of the ground. "Move", he repeated through gritted teeth as he in ease lifted me up on wobbly legs. I nodded, deciding it was best to obligate him. He gave me one last glance before he let go of my arm. It was a miracle that my legs not only did not give in, but also successfully carried me away from the scene.

When i assumed i was safe, behind a car down the street, i slid down the wheels. I ignored the burn of the rubber on my back. I couldn't really tell if the tears moving down my red cheeks were from the cs particles inbred in my eyes or the pain of the rubber bullet shot at my back right by my spine. I supported my head on the car behind me. Fuck, i knew i should've stayed at home.

"The protests that at first was peaceful, has quickly turned into a planned attack against the police. The hoards of thugs are breaking into stores, burning down buildings and starting riots against the police force. Please help inform the authorities if you are aware of any neighbours or fellows who are taking place in the violent riot-", i rolled my eyes and turned of the TV. The media was once again doing what they do best, cherry pick. They had of course refused to inform the public of the violent and unnecessary procedures the police had taken. Given a women miscarriage, massed a child, crushed an old man's skull. The sudden wave of rage rolling through my body was used to throw the remote down at the couch. I had done the most like signed petitions, donated what i could afford, spoken out on social media and spread awareness. But i felt useless, like i wasn't doing a real change. I was watching the revolution from the shadows, quiet and invisible. I knew the danger of rioting, especially for someone who knew nothing of it. But they were out there, doing something more than rolling their thumbs. I wasn't a violent person, never been, but watching the oppression on black neighbours, friends, fellows had my head boiling. In a moment, i decided. i was going to stop rolling my thumbs, i was going to do a change. Without a second thought i started to collect necessaries like face covers and water. Then i left the house in a hurry, something i would come to regret later.

The pictures passing by my brain came in distance, like watching an old picture movie. First the ground swinging below me. then came the image of a chest pressed against my body, then came the darkening sky above me. But then i decided to close out my surroundings, the pounding headache stopping me from truly understanding my situation.

Next time my eyes were opening, well the best they could from the tear gas glueng my eyelids together, i was in a unfamiliar room. White walls, blue couch, spinning fan. Boring room. Not mine. I furrowed my eyebrows when the panic finally settled in. Where was i?

Kidnapped? possibly

I tried my best to sit up but the pain suddenly shooting down my spine made me slouch back in my previous position. I couldn't tell if the almost too soft couch under me was making the pain worse or better. "Good, your awake", a masculine voice boomed through the room. I whimpered in defeat as i realized i could hardly speak or move away from my kidnapper. "Hey! hey", the owner of the voice finally came in view "your pretty scratched up, please take it ease". The man was familiar, begging to be remembered in the back of my head. Another Second passed before i realized who stood in front of me. The man from earlier, who threw grenades back at the police. He was even more intimidating shadowing over my smaller body on the couch, still fully dressed in his protections gear. This time around, in less blurry circumstances i noticed long brown dreads stretching down the side of his front. huh

"You were the one that threw grenades at the police" my voice came out so dry i barely noticed it myself. I could see my pathetic self in the reflection of his bruised helmet. "That was me", another man stepped forward, dressed in almost identical protection as the man. This one, somehow equally tall but without dreads. I tensed up at his tone, evidence of annoyance visible behind it. "What were you thinking? huh?", he leaned down closer to be making me feel possibly shorter than before "showing up completely unprepared for a protest, no protection or gear. What did you think would happen?". It felt like i was being scolded as a child. I dropped my attention to the floor, blocking out his hard voice. I had the habit of crying when getting angry or pretty much experiencing any human emotion whatsoever. "Hey!", a softer voice from the other male "Tank, take it easy on her". Tank? What kinda fucking name was that?. I was getting noticeably angry, as i felt the tears starting to rise. Tank was right, i was stupid and reckless. I should've prepared, done my research. I was completely out of my field compared to these guys that seems like professionals. Possibly trained.

i had to get out of here, away from these guys. Away from the scolding. Despise the rush of adrenaline, the pain when i tried to stand up made me cry out. Both of the men rushed over to me as if in a shared instinct. the guy that wasn't tank reached out for my arm but i moved against the screaming of my brain. In a rushed other try i got up on wobbly legs. One step, fuck fuck fuck. Sweat coarsed down my skin from the strength every step took. But before i even had a chance of reaching the door it was covered by a huge frame. Tank. Motherfucker. Tears were prickeling from the overwhelment of everything. Pain, shame, exhaustion.

"Get out of my way", i said through teeth so gritted they were squeaking against each other. He huffed annoyed and before i knew the word of it he had literally swept me of my feet. i couldn't stop the violently rising blush from being carried bridal style by a stranger. "You're not getting away that easy", he muttered and defeated, i relaxed my body in his arms.

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deathonyourtongue · 4 years

Text

Resurrection | 5

Summary: A ragtag team of Spec-Ops operators are brought out of retirement for all the wrong reasons. When the dust settles, only the best will be left standing. Pairing: Pablo Schreiber x OFC, Henry Cavill x OFC (listen, she gets with the whole team, okay? Don’t lie, you would too.) Word Count: 2K Warnings: Waterboarding. Dream sequence involving death and gore. A/N: I’m reposting this for a few reasons. Mainly ‘cause I’m done having my fics in two places, wanted to re-work the cover, and most importantly wanted those of you who weren’t following me back when these chapters were originally posted to be able to take it in from scratch. I’ve also cleaned up a lot of the text as far as grammar, etc. goes, so it’s more polished. ***ALSO: All the Portuguese translations are found in the links (read the address bar or the error that comes up when you click the link)*** Like what I do? Buy me a coffee (or a commission)!

C H A R A C T E R C H A R T

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Gone are the suits and ties, and my heels are replaced by combat boots.

The safehouse we use for interrogations is across town from the one we stay at, and it shows. Far from the posh of Knightsbridge, Dagenham is home to the largest diesel engine manufacturing site in the world. Soot and oil coat everything and at night, the area is a ghost town; perfect for our needs.

On paper, all the governments in the room condem torture, but work in the business of terror long enough, and you know that’s all just to save face and keep the top brass’ hands clean. We’re not animals about it of course, but if Miguel wobbles a little in his seat, it’s only because we let Max drive and London roads are so winding.

“You know...We don’t technically have to take the bag off his head.” Flip murmurs, breaking the silence we’ve all been in since getting Miguel settled into his new surroundings.

“You’re absolutely certain he’s never seen you, darling?” Max asks me, his face set in concentration. The rest of the team look up for my answer and I nod.

“Positive. Besides, bag or no bag, if he knew me, he’d have recognized my call sign by now,” I remind them, relief shooting around the room as all the men recall that Miguel was privy to any conversation we had in the car, call signs included.

“Alright. Who’s going in with you?” Rick asks, finally moving from his position against the wall and taking a seat next to Flip who looks all too eager to get a crack at our soon-to-be informant. Knowing he’ll be a liability if he reads the tone wrong, I look around, my gaze resting on Max as I smirk.

“Beef. I owe him for nearly taking his head off earlier,” I answer, both Dom and Rick nodding their understanding. Flip looks somewhat crestfallen, but I know he understands. He, of all of us, is too close to the situation, and though I know there’ll be a time to turn him loose, this isn’t it.

Max and I both stand from our seats, checking our handguns as we move towards the blast door that separates us from Miguel. Taking a moment, we focus our gazes on eachother, silently getting on the same page so that there’s no chance of Miguel thinking one of us is weaker than the other.

With a nod to each other, I take a deep breath and open the door. Padded on the inside in order to mitigate any screaming or loud music we might use throughout our interrogations, the room is graveyard silent. Once the door shuts, Max moves with precision, turning the stereo on full blast, and I can’t help but smile at the song that comes on. While all of us are metal fans, it’s one of the most effective interrogation tools we have because those in the hot seat usually either haven’t ever heard metal before (and are immediately disturbed by it) or despise it to the point where they can only tolerate so much. EDM comes a close second, but in Miguel’s case, Metal is the right call as he flinches immediately. Catching Max’s eye, we can’t help but grin as we mouth along to the lead singer’s screaming, the song’s lyrics about lying and choking oddly appropriate for what’s about to happen.

I headbang along with the double-bass as I grab a five gallon jug of water, hoisting it over my shoulder and letting Max handle the towels as we set things up. When everything’s ready, Max moves into position, arms crossed over his broad chest, his trademark scowl firmly in place.

I count to three with one hand, and on ‘one’, pull the bag from Miguel’s head, immediately tipping his head back and holding it in place with my forearm as I dilate his eyes. Max and I both stay out of his line of sight for the few moments it takes for the drops to work, and once we see the tell-tale squint, we slowly move to our places.

“Miguel, ta com cara que tá com sede, meu amigo.” I open, one eyebrow raised, staying just far away enough to be little more than a faceless blur to our informant.

“Vai se foder!” He yells, trying and failing to get out of the restraints he’s in.

“Ah, que isso, cara. Não fique assim. A gente só quer falar com você,” I purr, playing the “Nice Girl” routine even though everyone in the room knows it won’t last long.

“Certo, é por isso que vocês me capturaram, colocaram um saco na minha cabeça, e me levaram a Deus sabe onde. Falar, uma ova!”

“Já aprendeu Inglês, seu cafajeste?” I ask him, hoping he’s picked up a second language since the last time any of our governments dealt with him, more for the rest of the team’s sake than my own.

“I have,” he says, his accent nearly a perfect facsimile of anyone who’s been born and raised in London. Max’s eyebrow goes up in mild surprise, and if I know my team, the rest of them are all pressed against the two-way mirror, intent on listening now that they can understand.

“Good, so we’ll do this in English, ‘cause fuck you,” I tell him in no uncertain terms, moving into his space so he can confirm that the woman he wanted to bang at the party is the same one who’s now holding his life in her hands.

With everyone in the room discreetly mic’d up--including Miguel--there’s no need to turn down the music, and I use it to my advantage, wanting him as disoriented as possible so that he’s not focused on his words or the thoughts behind them.

“Three weeks ago, right here in London, two of our own were killed by a bomb that has your signature all over it. Wanna tell me who you sold that bomb to?”

Miguel laughs, a dry throaty sound that comes from too many cigars, and too much time around toxic chemicals; if one of us doesn’t kill him, I know for a fact cancer will get him in the end.

“I sell bombs to many people. How am I supposed to remember who I’ve sold to a month ago, puta?”

I don’t have time to react as Max lunges in and connects with Miguel’s jaw in one of the most vicious right hooks I’ve seen him throw in a long time.

“Talk to her like that again and I’ll dislocate the other side, y’cunt.” Max growls, teeth bared mere inches from Miguel’s face, leaving no room for interpretation of just how pissed he is. Without another word, Max takes Miguel’s face in his hand and relocates the joint he popped out, a scream coming from our informant as soon as he can open his mouth.

“See, Miguel, I’d like to think you’d remember, because this particular order had your initials on one of the plates, and I know you only do that when your order is for a single explosive device. Mass orders go through the factory, but the custom pieces, well...You’ve gotta take pride in your work, right?” I’ll give the man props, because if he’s searching for a lie, I can’t tell. His face stays unreadable apart from the discomfort from the light.

I shoot Max a look just as the song switches over, and he nods.

“Fuck this.” He barks, flipping a switch on the wall that immediately sends Miguel’s chair back into a 45 degree angle, the back legs hinged to the floor so he can never truly fall back, but feels like he’s going to, just the same. With the lights directly in his line of sight, I can’t keep from smirking as I hear Miguel hiss and try to cover his eyes, the steel shackles on his wrists clanking loudly and only causing him more pain.

“What is it, Miguel? Lights too bright?” I ask as I move to grab the first neatly folded towel from the pile. “Don’t worry, I got you.”

Pressing the towel firmly against his face, I stand out of the way as Max pours the water from the jug. We both count silently in our heads, Max stopping at exactly the right number as I flick the switch to bring Miguel upright once more.

Our informant coughs and sputters, screaming every vulgarity I’ve ever heard in Portuguese before spitting in our general direction.

“THERE WAS NO NAME! IT WAS PURCHASED BY AN ENTITY!”

I roll my eyes, annoyed that a man who once gave up an internationally-wanted terrorist is now spewing bullshit about an entity.

“So you sold your shit to a ghost? ‘That what you want me to believe?” I ask, feeling my own anger start to rise. I grab a fresh towel and Max and I repeat the process with surgical precision. It takes Miguel a little longer to cough up the water he’s swallowed, but when he’s finally able to speak, his voice is far more defeated.

“Yes, in a manner of speaking. The entity I sold that bomb to is known as Cenere. I get a call with a location, date, and time for delivery. I get the specs sent via encrypted email, and when the time comes, I deliver, usually to a lock box in the middle of nowhere. That is all I know.”

Max looks at me and I know he’s itching to hit him again. I shake my head, squatting down in front of our informant so that he can see me clearly.

“Is there anything else you want to tell us that may be important? For example, the location and date of the last delivery you provided for this entity?” I enunciate every word, my tone making it clear that I’ll be the one hitting him next if he tries to lie or get smart again.

“L-last delivery was in Roma, by the Colosseum, a week ago.” He answers, still hoarse from inhaling water.

“So whoever these people are, they’re planning another bombing,” I say, feeling the room behind me start moving; Rick and Dom looking up information, Flip packing our gear. We don’t have a lot of time.

“Y-yes. The bomb that killed your amigos was delivered exactly two weeks before it detonated. That’s how they always do it.” Miguel adds, giving us an even narrower timeline to get to Rome.

“Cut him loose,” I sigh, wishing Miguel could give us more to go on besides a location we’ll be getting to with zero prep time and even less information.

Max moves towards him, a wolfish grin on his face. I close my eyes, knowing exactly what’s about to happen.

“I sincerely hope someone strings you up by your balls and cuts them off with a piece of paper. This is for everyone you’ve had a hand in massacring. Especially my friends.”

I don’t have to look to hear a few of Miguel’s teeth rattle to the floor.

The room is starkly lit, the sickly blue tone reminiscent of a hospital. Empty aside from a plexiglass box filled with dirt and a pine-board coffin, there’s a feeling dread that emanates throughout the place.

“Carmen? Carmen! Carmen, if you can hear me, you need to get me out. Get me the fuck out of here, Carmen. Carmen, please!! Please! I can’t-I can’t breathe! Carmen, don’t leave me here!”

A heartbeat--elevated and distinct--couple with the sounds of hyperventilation to turn dread into pure fear.

“CARMEN, PLEASE! I’M GOING TO DIE! DON’T LET THEM KILL ME!”

Something cuts through the air with a distinct zing, crashing heavily onto the floor. The box, the dirt, and the coffin are all sliced neatly, trapped almost perfectly between thick sheets of razor-sharp glass. All except the first slice, where the side of the coffin has fallen away, trapped at a skewed angle below the dirt.

Rick looks like a fish out of water, gasping for breath, tears flooding his eyes. Despite being segmented like some primal experiment, every part of him still heaves with breath, organs pulsing with blood they no longer have, intact structurally despite being completely separated.

“Carmen, please!” It’s a whisper now, the life going out of Jake’s eyes even as the tears sweep his face.

A long, low horn sounds, finalizing the horror that’s come to pass.

I wake screaming, tears pouring down my face. Not realizing where I am at first, I don’t even see the boys as I fight with my lap belt and haul ass out of the seat, vaulting over Dom’s legs and careening to the bathroom to throw up. It’s rare that I dream, but when I do, it’s never good. This one felt too real; felt like a message from a man I’m certain we buried. The room spins and I heave out what little is left from lunch earlier. When I’m certain there’s nothing left to get out, I sit back, sobbing.

Once my breath stabilizes, I stand up and wash out my mouth, swilling the jet’s courtesy mouthwash before splashing cold water on my face. Stepping out of the small bathroom, I’m met with utter silence and four sets of eyes staring at me with concern. I can’t bring myself to tell them what I dreamt, and none of them need an intro into nightmares, as all of us, regardless of how little bloodshed we’ve seen, have them from time to time.

Still feeling the panic in my throat, I decide against taking my old seat, not wanting to be caged in. Instead, I sit behind Dom’s aisle, resting my head against the cool plastic of the window and looking out, my mind reeling. What if the bomb isn’t what killed him and Benj? What if they suffered? What if-- I cut off my own mental processing, not wanting to go down the dark alleys of my mind, wiping my eyes to stem the flow of fresh tears.

I feel a hand at my knee, and looking down, find Dom’s hand reaching back through the seats. Though he faces forward, it’s easy to tell what he’s doing, and I lace our fingers together loosely, taking the much-needed comfort of his touch. He gives my fingers a gentle squeeze, and I turn my face away further, not wanting any of the guys to see me like this.

#pablo schreiber #henry cavill #adria arjona #pablo schreiber x ofc #henry cavill x ofc #ryan reynolds #alexander skarsgård #joel kinnaman #alex o'loughlin #fic #deathonyourtongueoriginals #resurrection

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theredherb · 4 years

Text

The Red Herb’s Top 10 Games of 2020

Hey, fuck 2020. You might notice that many of the “Best Of” lists you read this year and last can’t help but mention how terrible 2020 was. That’s because every day was like hitting a new, splinter riddled branch on our 365 day plummet off a shit-coated tree. The year brought with it a viral pandemic that served as a pressure cooker for the societal and systemic issues boiling beneath the surface of our every day life. And we’re not out of it.

At least one positive holds true of 2020: the games were pretty darn good. One has to wonder, though, if 2020 was the last year of what can be called “normalcy” for the video game industry. Now that the remainder of titles brewed in pre-Covid times are out in the wild, what will the future of gaming look like as studios shift to work-from-home and distribution models migrate to digital as the primary bread winner? What will games look like going forward?

I have no fucking clue. We’ll get there when we get there. But looking back, I’m glad to have had such solid distractions from the stress and strife. If 2020 is any indicator for the industry going forward, then my takeaway is that games will continue to grow in prominence because of their ability to help us cope and, more importantly, stay connected.

Anyway, here’s video games:

10. MARVEL’S AVENGERS

Oh, Marvel’s Avengers. I know you expected to be on more prestigious Top 10 lists than mine. Truthfully, I debated whether or not you should be here. But I had to search my soul (stone) on this one. Really assemble my feelings. Tony Stark my thoughts (?). Here’s the short of it: Marvel’s Avengers has a great story campaign with a surprising amount of emotional weight thanks largely to Kamala Khan’s quest to reassemble the heroes of her youth. Once the final cutscene ends, though, players were expected to take their play box of Marvel heroes, jump online, and duke it out against hordes of villains for the privilege of precious loot and level gains. It would be impossible to get bored because Crystal Dynamics was going to continually Bifrost in new quests, cosmetics, and heroes -- for free!

Except, after fans blasted through the campaign (took me a solid weekend), they found a multiplayer mode filled with repetitive fights against non-descript A.I.M Bots, a handful of dull, un-Marvelous environments (the PNW?! In a video game?! Wowwee!), and a grind for gear that became useless minutes after it was equipped. Oh, and bugs. Tons of bugs. It must be hard for A.I.M. to take earth’s mightiest heroes seriously when they’re falling through the fucking earth every other mission.

So why the Kevin Accolade™? Of all the mistakes and underbaked ideas, Crystal Dynamics got the most important thing right: they made me feel like I was a part of the Avengers. Cutting through the sky as Iron Man; dive bombing, fists-first as the Hulk; firing gadgets at cronies as Black Widow; cracking a row of skulls with Cap’s shield… Avengers is a brawler on super soldier serum.

The combat is crunchy and addictive, and surprisingly deep once you unlock your character’s full suite of skills and buffs. The gear matters little. But choosing a loadout that works for you -- like ensuring enemy takedowns grant you a health orb every time or turning area clearing attacks to focused beams of hurt -- does matter. When it comes to games with disastrous launches, Avengers is the most deserving of a triumphant comeback story because, if you clear the wreckage, I think there’s a solid game here. If I was able to spend hours playing it in its roughshod state, I can see myself digging in for the long-term once it’s polished up and given a healthy dose of content. You know...if Square Enix doesn’t outright abandon it.

9. STREETS OF RAGE 4

Here’s a fact about me: I love beat ‘em ups. From Final Fight to X-Men to The Simpsons, I prioritized my quarters for the beat ‘em up machines (and House of the Dead simply because House of the Dead fuckin’ owns). Unfortunately, Streets of Rage wasn’t in arcades, and I didn’t own a Genesis growing up, so I didn’t get around to the series until Sega re-released as part of a collection. Though my history with the 29 year old brawler is shorter than some, the basics stand out out right away: it’s an awesome side-scrolling brawler filled with zany character designs and high octane boss fights.

SoR4 nails that simple spirit while adding an electric soundtrack, buttery smooth animations, and an art style that looks like a comic book in motion. You can button-mash your way through the game or master your timing to combo stun the shit out of bad guys. Same screen co-op is a requisite for the beat ‘em up genre but I have to call it out nonetheless given that it's next to obsolete these days. The story campaign is, of course, finite but a stream of unlockables and a Boss Rush Mode pad out the package nicely.

I really don’t have to go on and on. I’m on board with any game that captures the arcadey high of classic beat ‘em ups, and Streets of Rage 4 does it with flare.

8. RESIDENT EVIL 3 REMAKE

Resident Evil 2’s remake was my game of the year in 2019. It’s a pitch perfect revision that captures the pulse-pounding fear of the original while beautifully updating its graphics and gameplay for modern audiences. The most striking aspect of RE2’s remake is how it expands and reconfigures the classic game’s environments and set pieces. Capcom managed to recontextualize, and even improve on, the original’s design while staying faithful to its tone and atmosphere.

Resident Evil 3’s remake is less successful in modifying and improving on its source material. If the game feels like it was handled by a different team than RE2R, your gamer hands have good eyes (roll with it). It was developed by a separate internal team (three different teams, in fact), but that’s actually one of many choices mirroring its 1999 forebear. Just like the original, RE3R is a tighter (i.e. shorter) experience that launched less than a year after its predecessor. And just like the original, the game skirts away from survival horror in favor of action horror.

Unlike last year’s remake, however, RE3R paints in broad strokes with the original material much in the same way that 2004’s Dawn of the Dead remake shared a vague resemblance with Romero’s ‘79 classic. Capcom at least nails down what matters: you play as Jill Valentine, beaten and discredited after the Arklay Mountains incident, during her last escape from the zombie besieged Raccoon City. Her exit is complicated by Nemesis, a humanoid missile that relentlessly pursues her from minute two of the game. Her only chance of making it out alive is by teaming up with a gaggle of Umbrella dispatched mercenaries, including an overly handsome fellow named Carlos Oliveras that you control for a spell. But fans struggled to get over what Capcom didn’t remake. Several enemies, boss fights, and a “divergent path” mechanic that had you choose how best to escape the Nemesis in a pinch were omitted from the remake. Even an entire section set in a clock tower was cut. But, let’s be honest, the biggest omission is a secret ending where Barry Burton saves the day using only his beard. For real, YouTube that shit.

If you look at what the remake does instead of what it doesn’t, you’ll find a lightning paced action game highlighted by tense, one-on-one fights against the constantly mutating Nemesis. The tyrant’s grotesque transformations evoke the mind-rending, gut turning creature designs found in John Carpenter's The Thing. It’s sad that Nemesis doesn’t pursue you through the levels as diligently as he did in the original, or as Mr. X had in last year’s remake, but these “arena fights” end up being harrowing and fun, culminating in a memorable final encounter. The remake also treats us to the best incarnation of Jill to date. She’s a cynical badass, exasperated at how Umbrella upended her life, and can take a plunge off of a building yet still muster enough energy to call Nemesis a bitch. RE3R also shines thanks to its snappy combat, including a contextual dodge that feels rewarding to pull off, less bullet-sponge enemies than RE2, and an assortment of weapons to get you through Jill’s Very Bad Night(s). It makes for a necessary, though shorter, companion to last year’s stellar remake.

7. HADES

I’m experiencing a new type of shame including a title that I haven’t beaten on my Top 10 list, but I can assure you that I’ve dumped hours into its addictive death loop. It’s probably because of my resistance to looking up any tips, but given the skill-check nature of the difficult boss fights, I’m almost afraid the top shelf advice will amount to “die less, idiot.”

My failings aside, Hades is brilliant. It’s the perfect merger of gameplay and storytelling. You play as Zagreus, son of Hades, and your entire goal is to escape your father’s underworld domain. You pick from a selection of weapons, like a huge broadsword or spear, and attempt your “run,” seeing how far you can make it before an undead denizen cuts you down. It’s familiar roguelike territory, but where Supergiant separates their game from the pack is in the unique feeling of constant progression, even as you fail. With each run, not only is Zagreus earning a currency (gems or keys) that unlock new skills that make the next go a little easier, you’re also consistently treated to new lore. The fallen gods and heroes that line your father’s hall greet you after each death and provide a new insight into their world. The writing is bouncy and hilarious, the voice acting ethereal and alluring, and the character designs could make a lake thirsty.

Supergiant’s stylistic leanings are at their peak here. They’ve managed the impossible feat of making failure feel like advancement. Sure, it totally fucks up other roguelikes for me, but that’s okay. None of those games have Meg.

6. DEMON’S SOULS

Whereas Capcom takes liberties with their remakes, Bluepoint took the Gus Van Sant approach and made a 1:1 recreation of the 2009 title that launched the “Soulslike” genre. The dividing difference is a 2020 facelift brought to us by way of the PlayStation 5’s next-gen horsepower. There’s been online arguments (surprise) regarding the loss of Fromsoftware’s visual aesthetic in translating the PS3 original in order to achieve a newfound photorealism. It’s true, some beasties lose their surreal weirdness -- a consequence of revisiting designs without the worry of graphical or time constraints -- but the game’s world is still engrossing, morbid, and bleakly gorgeous.

That’s not to say all Bluepoint did was overhaul the graphics and shove this remake out the door. No, their improvements are nuanced, under-the-hood changes that gently push the genre into the next-generation. For one, the loading times are incredible. You could hop between all five archstones in under a minute if you wanted. And this game is a best DualSense controller showcase outside of Astro’s Playroom. You can feel a demonstrable difference between hitting your sword against a wall compared to connecting it with an attacking creature. Likewise, the controller rumbles menacingly as to let you know enemies are stomping across a catwalk above you. “Better rumbles” was not on my wish list of next-gen features, but the tactile feedback goes great lengths to make you feel like you’re there.

Granted, sticking so closely to the original means its pratfalls are also carried over to the next-gen. The trek between bonfire checkpoints is an eternity compared to the game’s successors, and Fromsoftware hadn’t quite mastered the sword ballet of boss fights prevalent in Dark Souls. Instead, a handful of bosses feel more like set pieces where you’re searching for the “trick” to end it versus having to learn attack patterns and counters. Still, it’s easy to see the design blueprint that bore a whole new genre. From having to memorize enemy placements to hunting down the world’s arcane secrets in the hopes of finding a new item that pushes the odds in your favor. Bluepoint’s quality of life improvements only make it kinder (not easier) to plunge into the game, obsess over its idiosyncrasies, and begin to master every inch of it. That is until you roll into New Game+ and the game shoves a Moonlight Greatsword up your ass.

5. YAKUZA: LIKE A DRAGON

Here’s a fact about me I’m sure you don’t know: I love beat ‘em ups. Streets of Rage 4 had an easy time making it on this list because it can be classified as both a “beat ‘em up” and “good.” Here’s another fact about me: I’m not the biggest fan of JRPGs. I’m told this is not because of any personal preferences I harbor, but rather due to a distinct lack of culture. I’ve made peace with that. At least my uncultured ways are distinctive.

But my disinterest in JRPGs is notable here because it illustrates how very good Like A Dragon is. Transitioning the Yakuza series from a reactive brawler (entrenched in an open-world SIM) to a full-blown turned-based RPG was risky -- especially 8 entries into the mainline series -- but it pays off explosively for Like A Dragon. Not only does the goofiness, melodrama, and kinetic energy translate to an RPG -- it’s improved by it. Beyond a new protagonist -- the instantly likable and infinitely affable Ichiban Kasuga -- we’re finally treated to an ensemble cast that travels with you, interacts with you, and grows with you. Their independent stories weave into Ichi’s wonderfully and end up mattering just as much as his.

The combat doesn’t lose any of its punch now that you’re taking turns. In fact, it feels wilder than ever and still demands situational awareness as your enemies shift around the environment, forcing you to quickly pick which move will do the most damage and turn the fight in your favor. RGG purposefully made Ichi obsessed with Dragon Quest (yes, specifically Dragon Quest) as an excuse to go ham and morph enemies into outlandish fiends that would populate Ichi’s favorite series. It’s a fun meta that never loses its charm.

This is the best first step into a new genre I’ve ever seen an established franchise make and I hope like hell they keep with it for future outings -- and that Ichi returns to keep playing hero. There’s plenty of callbacks and treats for longtime fans, but RGG did a masterful job rolling out the virtual carpet for a whole new generation of Yakuza fanatics.

4. GHOST OF TSUSHIMA

Sucker Punch’s dive into 13th century Japan doesn’t redefine the open-world genre. But like Horizon: Zero Dawn before it, Ghost of Tsushima takes familiar components of the genre and uses them exceptionally well, creating an airtight experience that can’t help but stand out. I can tell Sucker Punch mused on games like Assassin’s Creed and Breath of the Wild, tried to figure out what makes those games tick, and then brought their own spin to those concepts. You can feel it in their obsession to make traversal through the environment as unobtrusive as possible, letting the wind literally guide you to your destinations instead of forcing the player to glue their eyes to a mini-map. You can feel it in how seamless it is to scale a rooftop before silently dropping on a patrol, blade first. You can feel it in the smoothness behind the combat as your sword clashes against the enemy’s. Every discrete part is fine-tuned yet perfectly complements the whole. The game is silk in your hands.

The mainline story can be humdrum, though. It mirrors the beats of a superhero origin story, which isn’t surprising when you account for the three Infamous titles and satellite spinoffs under Sucker Punch’s belt. But Jin Sakai’s personal journey outshines the cookie-cutter plot. His gradual turn from the strict samurai code to a morally ambiguous vigilante lifestyle (to becoming, eventually, a myth) is a fascinating exploration in shifting worldviews. This is bolstered by the well-written side-missions dotting your quest, some of which play out in chains. It’s these diversions about melancholy warriors and villagers adjusting to life under invasion that end up being the essential storytelling within the game. Whatever you do, don’t skip a single one.

Before GoT can overstay its welcome with collectible hunting and stat-tree building, the ride is over. If you find exhaustive open-world titles, well, exhausting, Sucker Punch coded enough of a campaign to sticking the landing and not more. But if you were looking for more, the game’s co-op Legends mode is the surprise encore of the year. It strikes its own tone, with vibrant, trippy designs, and a progression system that embarrasses other AAA titles in the space (I mean Avengers. I’m talking about Avengers).

3. THE LAST OF US PART II

The Last of Us is widely regarded as a masterpiece. It’s a melancholic trek through a realistic post-apocalypse, driven by the budding bond between a world-weary survivor and a would-be teenage savior. The fungal zombies and violent shootouts with scavengers were scary and exciting, but ultimately just window-dressing compared to the level of complicated, and honest, human emotion on display throughout the tale. While a segment of detractors helpfully pointed out that The Last of Us’ story isn’t unique when compared to years of post-apocalyptic books, comics, and movies, that argument seems to forget that a narrative more concerned with the human protagonists’ connections to one another instead of saving the world or feeding into a hero complex is pretty unique for games -- especially a high profile, AAA budgeted game.

Still, fans made heroes out of Joel and Ellie because of their own connection to their journey. And that connection is almost instantly challenged in the opening hours of The Last of Us Part II to heartbreaking effect. But I’m here to tell you that any other sequel would have been dishonest to the legacy of the original game. To be given a hero’s quest as a continuation, an imagined sequel where Joel and Ellie do battle against the viral infection that’s swept the earth, would have been a despicable cash-in. It would have been a mistake to follow-up the original’s careful examination of human nature just to placate an audience that seems to have missed the point Naughty Dog made. The Last of Us Part II hurts. But it has to or else it wouldn’t have been worth making. It’s a slow-burn meditation on the harmful ripples revenge creates, how suffering begets suffering, and how, if we don’t break the cycles of violence we commit to, suffering will come for us.

To drive this point, we’re given two distinct perspectives during the meaty (and somewhat overlong) campaign, split between Ellie Williams, the wronged party seeking revenge, and Abby Anderson, an ex-Firefly whose actions set the sequel into motion. The greatest trick Naughty Dog pulls off isn’t forcing us to play as a character we hate, it’s giving us reasons to emphasize with them. It was gradual, and despite some heavy-handed moments meant to squeeze sympathy out of the player (how many times do I have to see that fuckin’ aquarium?!), I eventually came to love Abby’s side of the story. The obvious irony being that she unwittingly walks the same path Joel did in the original.

My love for the narrative shouldn’t distract from how well designed the world is. Being a King County local, the vision of a ruined Seattle strikes an uncomfortable note -- it was eerie seeing recognizable buildings overgrown with vegetation but otherwise devoid of life. Maybe the heart-wrenching story also distracts from the fact this game is, by definition, survival horror. Exploring toppled buildings in the dark, hearing the animalistic chittering of the infected, defending yourself with limited resources… It manages to be a scarier entry into the genre in 2020 than even RE3R. There’s a particular fight in a fungus covered hospital basement that easily goes down as my Boss Fight of the Year. Human enemies make for clench-worthy encounters, too, with incredibly adept AI that forces you to keep moving around the environment and set traps to avoid getting overwhelmed.

Admittedly, the subject matter -- or more to the point, the grim tone -- was tough to stomach during an actual pandemic which has happily treated us to the worst of human nature. Still, The Last of Us Part II is absolutely worth playing for its balance of mature themes and expertly crafted world, and the way it juxtaposes beauty and awfulness in the same breath.

2. SPIDER-MAN: MILES MORALES

The most impressive thing about Miles Morales is that, despite being a truncated midquel rather than a full-blown sequel, it’s a better game than 2018’s Spider-Man. It’s not because of the instantaneous loading times or the fancy ray-tracing techniques used on the PS5 version of the game. Rather, it’s how it takes the joyride of the original game and hones it into a laser focused experience filled to the brim exclusively with highs. Like Batman: Arkham Asylum going into Arkham City, Miles starts the game off with his mentor’s best abilities and tools. From there, he discovers his own powers, his bioelectric venom strike, which ends up feeling like the missing ingredient from the first game’s combat.

Your open-world playground -- a locale in the Marvel universe called “New York City” -- is exactly the same size as the previous installment, which helps avoid making the game feel “lesser.” But Insomniac wisely consolidated the random crimes Peter faced into a phone app that Miles can check and choose which activity to help out with. Choices like this really trim the fat from the main game and help alleviate “the open-world problem” where the story’s pacing suffers because players are spending hours on end collecting feathers. This is great because Miles’ story is also great. The narrative kicks Peter out pretty early on, focusing on how Miles assumes the role of city protector, primarily focused on his new home in Harlem. Insomniac avoids retreading the same path paved by Into the Spider-Verse by telling a relatable tale where Miles defines his identity as Spider-Man. With a strong cast led by Nadji Jeter as Miles, the game lands an impactful story that weaves its own new additions to Miles’ mythos (light spoiler: I loved their take on The Prowler).

Miles Morales was pure virtualized joy from start to finish. A requirement of the platinum trophy is to replay the entirety of the game on New Game+. I didn’t hesitate to restart my adventure the minute the credits were over. Everything I loved about 2018’s Spider-Man is here: the swinging, the fighting, the gadgets, the bevy of costumes. But it gave me a new element I adore and can’t see Insomniac’s franchise proceeding without: being Miles Morales.

1. FINAL FANTASY VII REMAKE

I love subversive media, I do. And Square Enix’s “remake” of one the most beloved video games ever made subverts expectations by openly acknowledging that, yes, the original story you love exists and is consistently referenced in this game. But this is not that story. This is something..else. Because the truth is, SE could never have recreated FFVII and delivered a title that matched the Sacred Game fans created in their heads. That impossible standard is like an imagined deity, given power by feeding on raw nostalgia reinforced by years of word-of-mouth and appearances on Top 100 lists. I’m not saying FFVII is a bad game or that fans give it too much credit. Not at all. There’s a reason it’s so influential -- it’s good! But memory works in a funny way over time. We have a tendency to codify our perception of a thing over the reality of it. The connection we make to certain media, especially when introduced at a young age as FFVII had been to a whole generation of fans so long ago, creates a legend in our heads. Unfortunately, it’s a legend no developer could achieve when tasked with remaking it.

So Square...didn’t. Final Fantasy VII Remake has the same characters, setting, and plot beats as the first third of the original game but it’s not the same game, nor is it a remake of it in the traditional sense. It’s something new. And I fucking love that about it.

Everything is reconfigured, including the combat. After years of trying to merge RPG mechanics with more approachable (and marketable) real-time action (see FFXV and the Kingdom Hearts games for examples), Square Enix finally landed on the perfect balance. You fully control Cloud on the battlefield, from swinging your impossibly huge buster sword to dodging attacks. The ATB gauge (no one knows what the acronym stands for -- that information has been lost to time) gradually fills up, letting unleash powerful moves. But best of all, you fight in a party, and you can switch who to control on the fly.

That may not sound revolutionary, let alone for a Final Fantasy, but each character has a completely unique feel and suite of moves. At times, it feels like playing a Devil May Cry game where you can switch between Dante, Vergil, and Nero on the fly (that’s a free idea, Capcom. Hire me, you cowards). You can soften up an enemy with Cloud’s buster to increase their stagger meter, switch to Barret for a quick gatling barrage, and finally switch to Tifa to crush them with her Omnistrike. You can accomplish this in real-time or slow down the action to plan this out. It’s a great mix of tactics and action that prevents the game from feeling like a mindless hack n’ slash.

What really, really works here is the character work. Each lead walks in tropes first, but the longer you spend with the members of your party, the more their motivations and fears are laid out. You end up having touching interactions with just about the whole main cast. There’s a small segment, after Cloud saves Aerith from invading Shinra guards, that the two make an escape via rooftop.They make light conversation -- small talk really -- but it’s exchanges like this that feel genuine, perfectly framing their characters (stoic versus heartfelt), and grounding an otherwise larger-than-life adventure.

Many bemoaned the fact that FFVIIR only revisits a small portion of the original game, but I think it was a brilliant choice -- to massively expand on areas we only got to see a little of in the original. I honestly didn’t want to leave Midgar. It’s a world rife with conflict and corporate oppression, sure, but Midgar is beautifully realized, from the slums below the plates, populated with normal people trying to make the best of life, to the crime controlled Wall Market, adorned with gaudy lights and echoing honky tonk tunes. It very well may be years before FFVII’s remake saga comes to a close, but if each entry is paved with as much love and consideration and, yes, storytelling subversion as this introductory chapter… It’ll be worth the wait.

#gaming

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romewritingshop · 4 years

Text

A welcome interruption

Fandom: Choices, Perfect Match

Relationship: Detective Damien Nazario X Antihero F!MC (Name: Peach Park)

Warnings: Fight sequence, capitalism? Corruption. EROS, Guns.

Word Count Total: 2915

A/N: I had an idea and @ravenpuff02 is such an inspirational help. She helped me with her reaction and I was aIso was thinking about the Halle Berry Catwoman movie. Peach is a vigilante by the name of Eclipse.

I was inspired by the prompt for the Monthly Challenge for August. This is for day 17 prompt: SURPRISE / PLOT TWIST.

Hopefully it fulfils the prompt and is a different take on Damien. Thanks and I hope you enjoy.

There is a part 2: A not so welcome interruption

CHOICES MASTERLIST

Tagged: @ravenpuff02 @choicesficwriterscreations @choicesmonthlychallenge @kimmiedoo5

Tonight was meant to be a day off for Peach Park, as she sat on the building ledge a little distance away from the EROS warehouse. Her eye mask scanned the building for entrance and exit routes because Sloane was unwell to do recon this week. Peach didn’t mind because Sloane was amazing at what she does so Peach owed it to her. It was early morning, around two a.m as Peach absorbed the details the digital mask presented. Ten storeys high, lots of windows and metal support beams which could help her with stealth.

The breeze was a welcome feel as she munched her packet of blue Sour Patch Kids. That blue raspberry just hit that spot and it made her recon all the more exciting, plus she expected that the Sour Patch Kids company put some additives to help her fight better and faster. So far nothing was happening at the warehouse but the guards switched positions every half an hour which was both stupid and smart. Stupid because it gives Peach more windows of opportunity to infiltrate but smart because different guards with different skills take the place.

One guard wouldn’t have spotted her but the other guard would notice something so she couldn’t take a guard out during rotation. Peach was alone because Sloane was resting and Hayden was taking care of her so she did not have any back up. Her earpiece picked up the low rumble of a lorry as she sat up attentively, turning to the direction of the sound and spotting the lorry driving straight towards the warehouse entrance.

It seems like her night was going to get interesting as the lorry parked and the warehouse doors opened. A couple of men stepped out of the doors with metal crates, and they were loading them into the back of the lorry. She creased her eyes slightly, so the mask would zoom in and switch to x-ray mode to scan the contents of the crates. It was just as she expected, special ops grade weapons which were illegal across various nations.

EROS were a lowly corporation that sold high grade weapons to terrorists, who take over a country and EROS step in as a support charity that ‘help’ the people with relief aids. Pretending to good yet doing even worse as Peach shook away thoughts that would incite her rage. She needed to keep a cool head because tonight was only to gain information, no interference even though she wanted to intercept the lorry.

After an hour or so, the lorry was filled and the doors closed, it began driving away and Peach’s eye darted from the warehouse to the lorry. Although she was only supposed to formulate a plan to break into the warehouse, following the lorry could help her establish the route EROS take to selling their illegal weapons. Her mind was made up as she downed the rest of her tangy sweets, the tanginess sending a rush of adrenaline through her body. She blinked twice to get a lock on the licence plate of the lorry.

She bagged the rubbish in her belt and walked off the edge of the shipping container, landing on the seat of her motorbike which automatically inflated with a cushion to prevent damage to Peach. Hayden was an absolute genius with the gadgets and vehicles as the cushion deflated, and she pressed her palm on the body of the bike. Connecting the data of the mask to the bike and she locked on a signal to follow the lorry.

Peach pushed her foot down hard to start her motorbike and drove through the containers with a little distance away from the lorry. She pressed a button on the side of the motorbike handle which unfolded a plastic panel in front of her bike, a camouflage shield that allowed Peach to follow the lorry without getting spotted. Hayden really thought of everything, silent engine and a shield to camouflage. Plus a compartment to store Sour Patch Kids which was the best gift she got for her birthday. After a good hour drive from the warehouse, she entered the city.

It was slightly quiet as the roads were empty save for three / four cars. An almost perfect night for Peach and it wasn’t long before the car turned down a street and Peach turned after, the lorry drove through a gated underground car park, as she parked a few meters away. It was an hour and a half long journey and this building was EROS’s offices. Peach smiled at the surplus of information she gained tonight. Her heart was demanding her to break into EROS and burn it to the ground but it wasn’t time yet.

The path she was on was the best way to ensure EROS’s permanent death. Peach deactivated the shield and drove out the street, stopping on the side, to upload her data to Sloane’s computer. Her mask vision flashed red as the sound of a broken glass echoed, she glanced behind her, her vision zooming in to see four crooks, dressed in all black breaking into a bank. Peach sighed as she took a note of the upload progress: twenty five percent. She had time but she had to wake up early the next day for work. She could not afford to fight these guys and wake up with soreness.

After a few seconds of deliberation, the Sour Patch tanginess hit her and which made her head towards the bank. This was a terrible decision but it would take off the edge from the recon she did. Approaching near the buildings, she noticed that the entire glass wall was shattered and the four perps were inside, breaking into four ATMs. The alarm hadn’t gone off which was a smart thing as Peach stepped over the broken glass and behind the guys. One bag was filled with cash and she was tempted to just take it but her fists were aching for a fight.

She straightened her eye mask and black wig, looking down at her outfit. A black bodysuit underneath deep red plastic armor which helped her withstand bullets and knives. She folded her arms and exhaled loudly which caught the attention of the four guys. They were wearing masks of the cast of Ocean’s Eight which was just demeaning to the actresses. Peach smiled as she fanned herself.

“Oh my god! It’s Sandra Bullock. You were amazing in Miss Congeniality.”

They didn’t seem to appreciate her joke as they all raised their guns at her, one of them noticed her.

“It’s that Eclipse chick that broke into the West Anderson Bank on twelfth street. She ain’t taking this job from us.”

That bank job was going to haunt her for the rest of her life as she rubbed her face with disappointment.

“Look. That was one time, and I needed money for upgrades. So fellas, we have two options here: We split the money and walk away from one another. I won't beat you up and you can settle life in San Diego. Or you shoot those guns, I beat the shit out of you and I take the money. Your choice.”

Her eye mask scanned their heart rates steadily, as the one with the Helena Bonham Carter, Cate Blanchett and Rihanna masks lowered their guns slightly. The eye mask vibrated as the Bullock mask brought his finger to the trigger and took a shot at her. A loud bang erupted as the bullet zoomed and got Peach in the left chestplate. The impact of the bullet caused her to stumble. 'Sandra Bullock' lowered his gun to see his bullet didn't even make a dent in her armor as Eclipse brushed off the bullet, standing straight and shaking her hands.

“Okay, now that’s just rude.”

At that moment, time slowed, Peach ran up to ‘Sandra’ and slid on the floor, jutting one leg out and kicked ‘Sandra’ underneath his legs to make him land on his back. He was the obvious first target because he insulted Peach and with that, she grabbed his collar to rip away the mask and send a powerful punch down onto his jaw which immediately knocked the perp out cold. Her fighting has definitely gotten a lot better and she needed to thank Hayden for his help. ‘Cate Blanchett’ decided to take a shot at Peach to avenge his fallen comrade, bringing his gun and taking a shot from the back.

They never learn as Peach felt the vibration of the bullet hit the back shoulder armor. She rolled her eyes, looking over her shoulder at ‘Cate’. Peach stood up to run at her next victim, sending a jab to his gut before swinging her elbow across his jaw which also knocked him out. She turned to find her two remaining perps running out of the bank and towards the getaway car. Wusses. She took a step when she heard the familiar sounds of police sirens approaching the open bank. She groaned at her fun being ruined as the driver door opened.

Seeing the person come out of the car made her smile widen like a cat as she took in the familiar black boots and tight fitting dark jeans, trailing up to a familiar red shirt under a black leather jacket. Long stubble and the slick backed brown hair as his tan skin glistened and she took in the fine specimen. Her favourite police officer, Detective Nazario. He had the familiar grimness to his face and he strutted towards Peach, stopping just before the wall where the glass would be, hands on his hips that made him look like a delightful menace.

“Papi! I was just wondering when you were gonna make your entrance.”

“It’s Detective.”

Peach would take any chance she could to mack on Detective Nazario: he was tall, grumpy and authoritative. Absolutely Peach’s type and the one good thing about being Eclipse, was that she could flirt without feeling embarrassed. The mask hid her real face and the truth was was that she would never have been able to go out with Detective Nazario in real life. He was too sleek and stylish to go out with her.

Detective Nazario just finished up with a day of reports which were a nightmare. They had been piling up for a week and since today was a quiet day, the Chief thought it was a good idea if he just typed up all his reports. Boredom struck him hard and after several cups of coffee he managed to finish his reports. He was driving home when he heard a report ring over the police scanner installed in his car: some fancy dress woman was breaking into Lowell bank in the Canarsie area. Damien rolled his eyes and pulled out a siren light, placing it on his dashboard and driving towards the location.

Stopping and parking the car just in front of the bank, stepping out to see Eclipse there with two guys by her feet. A black duffle bag by one of the ATM’s as he exhaled like a disappointed parent. Eclipse was a pain in his back as she would constantly break into EROS offices and now it seems to be banks. Clearly she broke her promise as Eclipse grinned at him with arms outspread. She welcomed him with ‘Papi’; although it sounded like rich whiskey dripping from her mouth, it was totally inappropriate because she was a criminal vigilante.

Peach raised an eyebrow as the Detective stepped into the bank and took in the scene. Two guys on the floor and a bag of cash must have looked dodgy to him and before he could scold her, Peach held her hands out to gesture at the guys on the floor.

“Before you say anything, these guys were stealing the hard earned money of the people of Brooklyn. They had a little accident with the glass.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Come on, you know I only steal from EROS and rich assholes.”

“Yeah, you’re a real robin hood figure. Does this mean you’re confessing?”

Peach enjoyed the game of debating morals with Detective Nazario, he would try to psych her out into confessing a crime so he can slap the handcuffs on her wrist and drag her to the police station. Soon as they would get to his car, she’d have picked the lock and run away by scaling the building with her grapple gun.

“It’s not a confession, it's a hypothetical opinion. Ever heard of ‘Eat the rich’? Same attitude, plus you need evidence.”

“Me and fifteen other cops saw you with a bag of cash at the West Anderson bank.”

The West Anderson Bank was EROS’s bank and Peach broke into it to steal all the important documents which highlighted their dealings with extremist leader, Daanish Sayeed. When she broke into the bank, the documents weren’t there but their money was and Peach was not going to give up the opportunity to take their cash and use it for good. She stole around a million from them but the place was surrounded by the cops and Detective Nazario. She scraped by to get out and stay under the radar for two months.

“That was for a good cause. Do you ever get my emails about EROS’s shady dealings with extremist leaders of the Middle East and Asia?”

“You sent those emails?”

Damien had been getting a few emails of documents from an anonymous source about EROS. He wasn’t sure who and from where but he did take it up to the Chief. The Chief then dismissed these papers false by having a forensic examiner show Damien the documents were altered. Since then, he never bothered to look into EROS. A small part of him believed she was right about EROS but the reality was, was that she was a criminal and she was accusing a charity of being some sort of organized crime organisation. She was in the wrong.

“Yes I did and I really hope you -”

Before she could carry on, they heard a car door open. The both of them snapped their heads to Damien’s car as white paws hit the gravel. Damien’s face contorted to a bitter grimace as the face revealed floppy brown ears and black beaded eyes. A shiny black nose and an innocent aura as the beagle puppy bounded it’s way towards Damien’s feet. He had forgotten that he had picked up his sister Carina’s dog from the sitter’s. Carina had gone on holiday for a few weeks and Damien ‘kindly’ offered to dogsit with a bit of bribery.

His sister’s dog, Peanut was a small beagle pup of about fifteen weeks of age. Small for her size but she was a bright curious creature, right now Damien was confused about how Peanut opened a car door. Peach held her breath at the sight of the small puppy padding it’s way to Damien’s feet. Just when she thought he couldn’t get sexier, had a freaking dog. Correction: puppy and Peach was ready to throw her mask away and fall at Detective Nazario’s feet.

“Oh my god! It’s so fucking cute! What’s its name?”

Damien relented and told her the name, as she made her way towards the puppy to take it in her arms. Peanut welcomed her touch and brought it’s wet snout to her cheeks, it’s sandpaper rubbing on her cheek. At this moment, Peach felt she had died and was ready to go to jail if it meant seeing Damien and Peanut.

“Is she your new partner?”

“No. I’m dogsitting.”

Damien’s breath got stuck in his throat as she threw a soft smile towards him and for a moment he ignored the fact that he was a police detective and she was a vigilante. She was close and he noticed the way her costume fit snug on her body, it wasn’t bulky like he assumed it was. He wanted to take off her eye mask and absorb her face, examine the details and maybe brush his lips - wait! She was a criminal.

“You know, I’m almost tempted to throw away my mask.” Damien raised an eyebrow at her and she could tell he was amused from her words. “Almost.”

“Well maybe next time, I’d have to bring Peanut with me to get you into the car.”

“There’s a next time?”

“Although it’s against my job, I am intrigued by our encounters.”

Peanut was magical as Peach felt her guard relax. This was the closest thing to a date she had as she smiled at Detective Nazario. His face was threatening to break out into a smile and they felt a warm air swirl around them. Unfortunately their charged atmosphere was interrupted by a low groan as Peach and Damien turn to the perps on the floor. Both of them having forgotten the bank job. Damien wanted to spend more time with her and that moment he decided to let her go, he could always get her next time.

“Go on, make a run for it.”

Peach was stunned at his encouragement but gave a nod, handing Peanut back to Detective Nazario, completely ignoring the spark of electricity when her gloved hand brushed against his wrist. She sent a quick salute and jogged over to her bike, pushing the pedal hard before sending one last look to Detective Nazario.

“See you next time, Papi.”

“Don’t make me shoot you, Eclipse.”

#Damien #damien nazario #damien x mc #damien nazario x mc #damien elvis nazario #perfect match #choices fanfiction #choices #choices fic #choices perfect match

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allelitefics · 5 years

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Torn Pt. 2

Characters: Scorpio Sky x Reader / Kenny Omega x Reader

Summary: Your friends with benefits relationship with Sky comes to an end when you want more and he can’t commit..although the feels are still there, you feel like you have to move on. When Kenny Omega finds out he sweeps in at just the right time….Pt. 2 is definitely Kenny Omega focused... but we’ll revisit the Scorpio Sky relationship again for sure.

Warnings: smut

You and Kenny had a pretty good friendship, you often joked around when you were around each other but you often saw him absent during social events. Even though there was a definite family vibe amongst the AEW crew, no matter what role, Kenny was a private guy. You were a fan though, a fan before AEW became a thing. You knew for a long time he was the hottest wrestler around, the stuff he did in Japan was top notch, the fact that he lived there, became a citizen, and learned the speak the language, he was a smart guy and that definitely was one of his most attractive qualities. He knew the wrestling business like the back of his hand, so doing social media for AEW had you intimidated most times with him around.

Then again.. he found your nervousness around him really cute. Just about everyone knew you and Sky were dating, or seeing each other casually. But it didn't stop him from flirting with you during your weekly meetings at Dynamite. The casual, "You look nice today" or "I like the way you did your hair today" it was subtle, but you noticed. You often found yourself reciprocating those came flirtatious comments, your eyes would definitely wander to his muscular arms... men with muscular biceps was your favorite feature of the opposite sex. He noticed. As weeks passed, those meetings were something he eagerly looked forward to with you. He was so respectful but sometimes..just sometimes you wished he would just go for it.. if your hands touched on accident or his hand brushed up on your thigh it made your whole body tingle. And as Sky continued to not commit, you didn't feel so guilty about the way your body reacted to those delicate movements.

Kenny's buddies knew about the fact he was into you, they were actually pretty excited about the idea of their friend getting back out there into the dating scene. He had a successful career in Japan, and now living in the states and being one the EVP's with AEW, things were solid... When he got the text from Hangman he grinned from ear to ear, he was on his way to do your weekly social media meeting to see what you had in store for the week and promoting the upcoming matches online. He wasn't sure how your mood was going to be either so he was a little cautious. When he saw you sitting in an office chair laid back staring at your phone he smiled. You were simply dressed in an AEW shirt and jeans, but you always made sure that your hair and face looked amazing.

You looked up from your phone and saw him standing there, gym shorts and t-shirt, his usual MO. You smiled. "Hey Kenny". "Hey gorgeous." he said back coming to sit down next to you. "You doing alright today?" he followed up with, he silently cursed himself because that wasn't a very cautious question. "Oh you heard." you say and laughed a little. "Yeah, locker room talk..." "More like locker room eavesdropping." you say which you both smile at the same time. "Yeah.. true...do you..maybe want to hang out tonight?" he asked wasting to time..at this point he figured he'd go for it. You were a catch and he knew it, the window between you ending things with Sky and potentially fixing things was small and he wanted it to be known he was into you. "Really? you ask... a part of you surprised.. Kenny Omega wants to hang out with you? Alone? Unreal you thought. "Yeah really." he said anxiously waiting your answer. "Sure." "Sweet, I'll grab you after the show?" You nod your head, "Sounds good."

The rest of the meeting went pretty normal, but the subtle touches became from frequent and you didn't hate it. "Alright so...I'll come get you after the show is over?" "Yeah, wanna meet here?" you ask. He bites his bottom lip softly and you can't hold in the grin that forms on your face. "Yeah, I'll meet you here."

You watched the show backstage and did some photo ops and videos for Instagram, but when SCU had their match and you watched Sky you watched the screen with sad eyes. "Fuck" you say under your breath. Why did he have to be like this? You ask yourself, it had been hours since you talked and he didn't even try to want to fix things..you shouldn't be surprised..but deep down you had hoped that maybe..just maybe he didn't want to lose you.

Fast forward to two hours later, and Kenny came into the room you were set up in with his bag over his shoulder. "Ready?" he asked. You smile and nod, although you were upset about Sky, your feelings started to shift into a "fuck that guy" mood.

"So where are we headed?" you ask when you get into his rental. "Coffee?" "Are you trying to keep me up all night?" you ask and smile at the same time. He glances over at you trying to pay attention to the road, you knew the bar scene wasn't his thing, so you expected him to propose something like coffee. "...and if I am?" he says eyes on the road. Your heart rate climbed a little bit, you were going to hook up with Kenny Omega tonight.

The coffee date went well, "I've actually liked you for a long time.." Kenny admitted. "Really?" you ask genuinely, your head jerking back a bit. "Yeah, I ..uh.. would try to flirt with you without it being sexual harassment." You laughed, he was truly funny and he loved the fact that he made you laugh. "Yeah, I could tell...but today...after today I might have to report you." He loved the banter you were able to dish back to him. "You ready to get out of here?" You nod your head with a smile. The both of you head back to his car but before he could open up the passenger side door for you, he slightly pulls you from your elbow, you turn around and he presses his lips to yours. Your heart races at the surprise, you feel your back against the car door as you then wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him back. His tongue intruding your mouth as he slightly groans, moving his lips to your neck, his hands trailing down your to your hips, then moving to grip your butt cheeks. You whimper slightly and it brings Kenny back to reality and that you're in a Starbucks parking lot at 11:30pm. "Fuck." he growls quietly, you can feel his growing bulge against your clenching thighs. "We should uh.." he starts inching away slowly "get back to the hotel." His eyes finally meet yours, as you bite your lips and nod back. "Yeah." was all you could mutter.

In the car ride to the hotel was when you realized how intense Kenny was capable of being. His hand on your thigh throughout the ride getting dangerously more and more close to your core. Your breaths were heavy. "Fuck this red light." he spat out, you were so close to the hotel. But it made you smile as much as you wanted to keep it in. He looked over at you and he did crack a little bit. "I want you so fucking bad." he said. You looked at him, "Light's green." with a wink and he pushed on the gas hard.

In minutes you were in his hotel room, he pulled his shirt from over his head with one movement, and then his attention was on you. Pulling your shirt off from over your head, his mouth moving to your ample breasts as his hands went to your back to remove that garmet too. Your back against the wall, moaning softly with every touch from him. He moved to his knees so that he was unbuttoning your jeans, you helped him shimmying them down from your hips, he was quick to rip your panties right off of you. Literally..he ripped them. He looked up at you, his eyes seductive as he bit his lips. "I'll buy you a new pair." he said then turned his lips into a smirk. You weren't sure what you were in for with sex from Kenny..but you were excited and anxious... He shifted your thigh as his tongue quickly met your already wet core. "Excited for me, huh?" he said. You nodded, your hand wanting him as you slightly tried to pull back. "Oh no princess... I make the rules." he says, you whimper when you can see he's about to stand up. He grabs you and lifts you up to your surprise, you end up with your back hitting the bed as he then spreads your legs and devours you this time. You grip the comforter as your moaning echos throughout the room. "Don't you come yet." he tells you, it was impossible for you to control that. "Kenny.. I can't" "Yes you can." he backs away and down come his gym shorts, his cock finally releasing from the confines of his clothing. The pause helps you control yourself, but it wasn't long until he lined himself up with your entrance, you're a wreck already and he can't wait to wreck you even more. Once you've adjusted to his length he quickens his pace. Falling on top of you keeping himself propped with his arms as you pull him closer until your chests are touching and it's like he's fucking the life out of you. You've definitely hit your climax several times at this point but Kenny isn't done with you yet. He's not satisfied until he knows you can't physically move. He exits you only to demand that you turn on your hands and knees and within that position he's fucking you so hard that you can't remain in that position. That's when he knows, he's accomplished what he's wanted to with you. His moaning gets slightly louder as you feel his warm liquid hit the flesh on the back of your thigh. "Fuck" he growls. You fall to your stomach, you're completely out of breath. "Hold on." he pants going to grab a towel, you feel him wiping himself from your skin and you then turn over. He falls next to you on the bed and reaches to pull you into him. "Wow." you say. "You are amazing." he says to you and you smile against his chest. "You are." His hand squeezes your arm affectionately, and you feel this comfort, a different type of comfort. You also start to wonder what all this means...

#kenny omega x reader #kenny omega fanfiction #aew fanfiction #kenny omega smut

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fangirlxwritesx67 · 5 years

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May Be Home, Chapter 1 Word count this chapter: 2100 Also for @saxxxology Vol 1 Writing Challenge Characters: au rockstar!Dean Winchester x OFC Sasha Song: Sounds of Someday, Radio Company Music

Tags: 18+, sex, smut, lots and lots of m/f sex in different ways (fingering, oral, penetrative) in different places (bed, table, car, shower), no condoms ever, enthusiastic consent, Daddy kink, language, lots of alcohol, sexy eating, etc

The business card in Sasha’s hand was black, made of heavy paper, embossed with black lettering that was only visible when she tilted it a certain way in the light.

Dean Winchester, it said on one side.

On the other side was a phone number with the words “serious inquiries only” below it.

Sasha flipped the card in her fingers over and over. She didn’t know what would happen if she called the number, and part of her was afraid to find out.

But if there was one thing that Sasha was serious about, it was the blues singer Dean Winchester.

He had burst onto the music scene barely a year ago. The story was that in his late 30′s he got tired of unfulfilled dreams, quit his job as a bartender, and started making music. His first album barely registered, but he did get a gig opening for Colter Wall. Before the tour was over, fans were buying tickets to see Dean, not Colter. His second album was a huge hit, and he rode the success to his own tour.

What was it about Dean Winchester that drove the fans wild? His voice, for starters. He had a surprisingly broad vocal range, able to soar and scream and growl all in one song. His sweet spot, though, was those deep notes that drove the blues along.

Everyone who heard his music, whether they liked him or not, was impressed with his raw talent. But more than talent, Dean Winchester possessed a magnetism that women and men alike found irresistible.

It could’ve been anything - his handsome, chiseled face, sprinkled with golden stubble; his thick hair, toasted almond shot with gold, artfully mussed as if he had just rolled out of bed; his strong arms and the way they flexed when he played the guitar; his long legs and round ass and the way he rocked his hips that made everyone in sight think of filthy things. Or maybe it was his mouth, his pouty full lips that were almost obscene on a man, and the way he seemed to kiss the audience when he sang. No one knew exactly what his secret was.

Certainly, Sasha didn’t know. All she knew was that the first time she saw a video of him singing, she fell in love.

Something about Dean was different from anyone she had ever seen. It wasn’t just his talent or his gorgeous face. There was an openness to his songs, a vulnerability in his performance.

When Dean sang, his music moved Sasha in a way she couldn’t even begin to describe, reaching all the way into her soul. His voice carried such a longing that she ached to hear it.

That desire drew her in, made her feel close to him. She dreamed, secretly, of being the woman who could satisfy him. She imagined that their hearts could find a home together.

There was nothing, no one she longed for the way she longed for Dean Winchester.

When she found out that Dean would be headlining the Bourbon & Blues Festival in August in her city, Sasha knew she had to be there. It was her dream to see him perform live, to maybe even meet him.

She picked up extra shifts at the restaurant and saved money by trading Starbucks for coffee she made at home. Her coworkers teased her about the money she was saving to see Dean.

Just days before the event, she had scraped together enough money to buy a backstage pass. She had never spent this much money on a concert ticket before. Then again, she had never loved a singer like she loved Dean Winchester.

The night of the concert, Sasha dressed carefully. She wore dark wash skinny jeans and a plaid shirt over a vintage Led Zeppelin t-shirt. She took a long time applying smokey eye make-up that she knew made her dark eyes look gorgeous, and teased her dark curls into thick waves. She finished the look with heeled boots and plenty of jewelry.

Dean Winchester’s concert was the most amazing experience of Sasha’s life. From the moment he strode on stage on long bowlegs, wearing his usual double denim and bandanna around his neck, the air felt electric.

Then he leaned into the microphone and launched into a song. Sasha felt goosebumps sweep over her body. Watching concert videos was nothing like seeing him perform live. In-person, he radiated an irresistible sex appeal. The longing she felt for him, from him, was almost unbearable.

She was caught up in the moment, in the music, in the animal magnetism that was Dean. By the time he called out the last notes to the last song, she was sweaty from dancing and flushed with desire. She cooled down a little backstage as she waited for her turn for an autograph and photo op. She was surrounded by fans, women and men alike who loved Dean at least as much as she did, if not more. It was a heady atmosphere.

Finally, Sasha got to the table where Dean was standing. He was swaying a little, drunk on bourbon or adrenaline or both. He was sweaty and had loosened his bandanna around his neck. Up close, she was blown away by how gorgeous he was and how much she wanted him.

Photos were inadequate to capture his raw appeal. He signed her records and then drew her in with one strong arm for their photo op. Instead of looking at the camera, though, Dean looked at her. His eyes raked up and down her curvy body appreciatively.

“Well,” he drawled after a moment. “Aren’t you a sweetheart? I like a girl who likes Zeppelin.”

Sasha flashed a bright smile as she felt herself blush. Was Dean really looking at her, talking to her this way? She pressed against him just a little bit closer than was appropriate for a photo with a stranger. In return, Dean slid his hand down over the curve of her ass.

That was the moment the photographer snapped, the two of them gazing at one another with undisguised desire.

After a few moments, one of Dean’s handlers appeared and pulled Sasha away. After all, there were many people waiting to spend a few seconds with him.

On the sidelines, Sasha took a moment, trying to get her heart to stop racing. She had actually met Dean! And she thought for just a moment, when his luminous green eyes locked on hers, that she had seen longing reflected back. Her knees were shaking.

Someone approached, a tiny redheaded woman in a business suit who looked entirely out of place on the backstage of a blues concert.

Without saying a single word, she handed Sasha a card - the card that she now held in her hand.

It had been three days since then. Three days of reliving that night over and over in her mind, remembering what it was like to be in the audience as Dean sang and feeling like he was singing just to her. Three days of recalling his hand on her ass and his hot longing gaze, the picture that captured a moment of him wanting her as much as she wanted him.

If she wasn’t serious about loving Dean Winchester, what would she ever be serious about?

Sasha picked up her cell phone one more time, but this time she dialed the number. She didn’t know what to expect. She didn’t really think Dean would answer the phone himself, but she had to admit, she was a bit disappointed when she heard instead a woman’s voice.

“I’m Rowena MacLeod, Dean Winchester’s personal manager,” the woman said in a lilting Scottish accent. “If you’re calling this number, it’s because you got one of Dean’s cards.” Sasha’s voice trembled as she answered, “Yes.”

The woman spoke in a quick and professional tone. "Mr. Winchester is not a rock star,” Rowena explained. “He doesn’t pick up groupies. After all, he has an image to protect. However, once in a while, he likes to have a weekend away. He prefers to enjoy this weekend in the company of beautiful women. Would you like to join him?” Whatever Sasha had thought she was expecting, it wasn’t this. She was speechless.

Rowena continued. “Of course I don’t mean just you and Dean. Usually, his brother joins him, sometimes a friend. You would be one of a number of women there.”

Sasha still couldn’t find the words to respond.

“This number was for serious inquiries only. Are you in or not?”

Of course she was in! For Dean, anything. The only word she said was, “Yes."

Rowena then told Sasha to expect a package, priority mail. When it came, it looked much less like a good time and much more like a legal contract. She had to get a physical, including STD testing, provide proof she was on birth control, and agree not to make any drastic changes to her appearance. She also signed a very strict non-disclosure agreement.

She didn’t care what she had to do. Whatever it took, it would be worth it for a weekend with Dean Winchester. She just wanted to get near him again.

It was September before Sasha got a call from that number. She answered and recognized the unmistakable voice of Dean Winchester’s manager.

"Are you available next weekend?” she asked.

Sasha answered that she was.

She could hardly believe this was happening, could hardly comprehend that her wildest dreams of seeing Dean again were coming true.

Rowena gave her the address of a hotel in a city about an hour away.

When Friday came, Sasha drove to the hotel and checked into the room. On the king-sized bed was an envelope with her name on it. She opened it to see a single page with typed instructions to meet Rowena at a certain room at a certain time.

She unpacked her overnight bag and showered, changing from her work clothes into jeans and a t-shirt.

When the time came, she joined a number of other girls to meet Rowena and Dean’s brother, Sam. She quickly realized that this was a business meeting.

Rowena and Sam laid out the rules: that every girl was there entirely for Dean’s enjoyment. They were to expect a call anywhere from 10 am to 2 am, and would be expected to show up looking clean and made up. They could order room service as much as they wanted, but they were not to drink alcohol unless Dean gave them a drink. Every one of the girls agreed to these conditions. It was quickly apparent that a couple of them had done this before.

As Sasha looked around, she began to wonder what she was doing there. The other girls looked like they had been made from the same mold: trim, athletic blondes with cute faces.

Sasha knew what she looked like. She thought of herself as striking, rather than cute. She had dark hair and eyes, wide cheekbones and full cheeks. She was average size but generously endowed, with full breasts, wide hips, and a soft belly. She knew there were certain men who found her attractive, but looking around, she began to wonder if Dean Winchester was one of them.

After the meeting broke up, Sasha returned to her room and waited. She put on makeup and turned on the TV in the background, too nervous and excited to really watch anything.

Darkness fell and the phone never rang. Sasha started to wonder if this whole thing had been a mistake. It was silly of her to think that Dean Winchester, the singer, the man of her dreams, had any interest in her.

She changed from jeans into pajamas and ordered loaded fries from room service. If nothing else, she could enjoy a few free meals while she was here.

No sooner had she gotten her food than the phone rang. She picked it up and heard, on the other end, that unmistakable voice - Dean’s voice.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his tone was relaxed and inviting. “Want to come on down?“

Her heart was beating so hard that she could barely answer, but she managed to stammer out a yes.

She quickly dressed again, touched up her makeup and ran a comb through her dark waves before heading down the hall. She passed one of the other girls coming back down the hall. She looked disheveled but satisfied.

She smirked at Sasha. "I hope you’re ready for Dean,” she said. “He’s ready for you.”

Sasha’s heart raced at the thought. She was as ready as she could possibly be.

Sasha stood outside Dean’s door, knees shaking with nervous anticipation. She longed for him, body and soul, and wanted him to want her just as much. She had no idea if he did, if he even really remembered her.

This was a wild fantasy somehow unfolding in front of her. She would never make her dreams come true if she didn’t take this chance.

Sasha lifted her hand and knocked. ... Keep Reading - Chapter 2 …

@thoughtslikeaminefield Thanks for the beta read, the banner,and everything!

SPN First Last and Always: @dawnie1988, @fookinghelljensensthighs, @idreamofplaid , @onethirstyunicorn , @the-chocolate-moose , @there-must-be-a-lock , @tloveswriting

Dean Curious: @adoptdontshoppets, @deangirl7695 , @flamencodiva , @wayward-gypsy

#dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #supernatural fanfiction #may be home #actual rockstar jensen ackles #big daddy dean #fangirlxwritesx67 #saxxxology vol.1 writing challenge

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incarnateirony · 5 years

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Terms and Conditioning and Meanings

Okay, so it’s something a lot of people heard me bang on about several times over the last few years, but recently I found a thread (x) by yet another lit professor -- this one in another fandom.

I’m sure some people will choose to reactively and malignly pick at parts of what they say without reading the heart of their body of work, in a blazing display of self-blind irony, but well-- I went off on my usual tear I go on ‘round these parts and unsurprisingly they went through and liked every single one while QTing other Typical Fandom Asshats to shoot them down, so let’s roll here.

I’ll start with the TLDR edition but then break down the actual content behind a cut -- because this? This is something this fandom DESPERATELY NEEDS TO UNDERSTAND THE DIFFERENCES OF, and how they DO and DON’T relate.

CODING = CONSCIOUS CHOICE OF CONSTRUCTION BY AUTHOR SUBTEXT = THEMATIC RESONANCE THROUGH MOST OF OR THE ENTIRE WORK THAT EMBOLDENS THE TALE INTERPRETATION = LITERALLY WHATEVER YOU WANT BUT STRONGER IF YOU KNOW WHAT THE OTHER 2 ARE AND WHERE THEY ARE. THANKS KIDS DEATH OF THE AUTHOR = NOT AN EXCUSE FOR EIGHTH-ASSED READINGS CANON = WHAT EXISTS WITHIN A WORK, OR AN AGREED UPON BODY OF ACCEPTED WORKS (episodes, books, etc not part of the ecclesiastical body) NO, it is not a MAGIC WORD for “NOW THEY KISSED” and there are MANY FORMS OF WHAT IS CANON WITHIN AN ACCEPTED BODY OF WORK. QUEERBAIT = VERY FEW OF THESE THINGS AND YET CAN BE ALL OF THESE THINGS AND THIS IS THE MOST BUSTED WORD Y’ALL HAVE FUCKING RUINED.

(Edit: I saw someone reblog this with “really aggressive in an offputting way” before a tag of “but I agree” so I’ma put this out here: Yeah. It fucking is. Because this fandom is fucking exhausting. And I am tired. Of having to fucking repeat things. That are literal common sense. In a fandom that insists on flushing common sense. Of otherwise intelligent people sending themselves into destructive spirals. Of even friends losing friends to people sliding off into bitter pits these problems lead to. So if you’re someone that favors common sense, maybe you actually should feel this frustration in your soul. The lit folks reblogging this with commentary so far seem to.)

To quote the linked OP and give credit where credit is due for resparking this conversation in my mind and realizing I haven’t said this for a long time and new followers may not know, even if this is familiar to like 90% of people who follow me -- but I feel they touched aptly on parts I haven’t even really done more than brush over.

queer-coding is quite sinister in a lot of ways (though can be employed subversively to great effect) but also very interesting! studies have shown that children who like or identify with queer-coded villains are more likely to be lgbt, even if they don't realise what's going on.

during the hays era it was mostly a way to show that a villain was bad (because gay = evil), but it could also be a way for closeted queer creators to sneak lgbt representation into their work, which is why so many queer-coded villains are so damn *likeable*.

what's also interesting is that lgbt creators would sometimes explicitly *straight-code* their villains - gaston from disney's beauty and the beast is a great example of this. highly recommend that you read up on the story of his creation!

all of which is to say: queer-coding has a meaning, it's not the same as queer-*baiting*, and it DEFINITELY isn't the same as "I'm gonna read this character as gay because I wanna imagine him as gay" - the name for that is fanon, and some trek fans

there are lots of academic works on the history of queer-coding if you want to spend an afternoon down a google scholar rabbit hole! just, you know. terms have meanings.

that's the thing. coding literally is intentional. what you're talking about is an alternate or resistant reading, or a world-context-centred critical approach.

you're right that it's got nothing to do with representation, but unlike semiotics, which is text-centred but may or may not rely on reading into intentional authorial choices, queer-coding refers specifically to an authorial choice. it's a defined term.

I didn't just take AP and honours english. I *taught* AP and honours english. for y e a r s.

--by @jaythenerdkid who I just accidentally found the tumblr of by preparing to make a twitter link but I checked and it’s the same person.

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

Okay so let’s pick through this a little bit before people start spinning this up in their heads.

TO START: QUEER CODING

I’ve seen people say “This character has villain attributes or dark attributes ergo he is queer coded.” That is absolutely not the way to apply this history, this works in reverse. As handled here, villains were either malignly codified to make queer characters evil and/or were then used as a slip-in of representation. A villain being a villain is not in fact itself an actual queer coding point. A dark history is not itself a queer coding point. Addiction stories are not themselves a queer coding point. In fact, trying to apply itself in this order is like BLAZINGLY homophobic and gross as hell and if you’re doing this, you should stop now. Yes, I’ve seen this.

I fucking promise you Gaston wasn’t consciously “queer coded” in being a villain, being a villain does not give him a Magic Gay Point.

Are we good on that point? Have we figured out the direction these Magic Gay Points fly in and don’t? Cool. If the author consciously added elements that will harmonize with a straight audience as queer to make them seem bad, that’s malignant queer coding; if an author consciously added elements that will harmonize with a queer audience to make them somehow familiar or likable, that is subversive queer coding.

An example of subversive queer coding: In the Legend of Korra, the creators had limitations on what the network would allow them to do. Later, they confirmed their intent was a WLW couple being portrayed at the end, but it hovers in the area of a hand hold that people can unfortunately choose to negotiate away into bestest friends despite all the other story flags for them along the way.

People have/can/will call queerbait about this. In this case, this is not queerbait. This is attempted representation to bypass restrictions and is not malign, but are authors doing their best to give their queer audience something, anything, in the case of it. Yes, it was post-air acknowledgment but it was what they were goddamn trying to give us gays out here. It’s not hiding their gays on the creator’s part -- it’s hiding their gays on the network’s part -- WHICH IS A STEP A LOT OF PEOPLE GET VERY CONFUSED ABOUT.

Hell, just because *one* show or property on a specific channel even allows X Amount Of Gay in it doesn’t even mean they’ll allow their other properties that amount of gay every time, and can and WILL step in and block creators. It happens even on premium networks like HBO or Starz. Because they have their ideas of what the demographic they dump a bunch of marketing money into is okay with, half-educated and half massive fiery balls of projection from whatever old white dude is reviewing the data. So no, never just bank on “well X network made the Gay Bar exactly This Tall To Ride here so all their other shows can be Exactly This Gay.” -- you do that, you’re gonna set yourself up for a FUCKTON of disappointment.

Hell, LGBT aren’t even treated equally to other LGBT. Bi men have like 1/3 the representation of bi women because media is held in a largely male gaze corporately and well, bi women are sexy to straight guys, give them some of that lesbian action. But oh, nono, don’t put the bi dudes near their network, no homo. If you drape a rainbow boa on this lamp post though we’ll let you have a gay guy run around that is there to make other characters uncomfortable as a stereotype, that’s fine. LITERALLY do *NOT* simply assume for *ANY REASON* that because one kind of LGBT person cleared on one show that others will too, there’s so many ways that drops through the floor.

That small aside about network bullshittery handled, let’s get back to the terms.

Negative queer coding I can think of with things like, I dunno. Jafar. Honestly very few LGBT people will actively associate with most of these attributes because a great wealth of them are attributes in the eyes of straight creators villainizing gay people, rather than gay people making gay people that just happen to be villains, and this distinction *DOES MATTER.* The long, snaky body -- the coy, venomous tone, embellished gestures; I mean sure, some people are like that, and that’s fine, you be you, but it’s a stereotype most try to shed rather than play into. It’s not the sum of who we are but put into the wrong creator’s hands, they *make* that the perceivable sum of who we are, + villainy.

But queer coding CAN be suggestively used to paint positive role models in situations they can’t necessarily be written as Overtly Gay, and the list of those reasons is unfortunately Very Long. But they are always things that are active choice, and your interpretation of what is Active Choice is not the same as Proven Active Choice.

For example: “The wallpaper was green and blue in this scene so Dean is thinking of Castiel even if he isn’t saying it.” Okay. We’re gonna go to Subtext and Interpretation later, but summarily: no. Hell, maybe it even is, but that’s a huge vault you actually have to exorbitantly prove and you can’t just say “but movie lighting theory” because I promise Dean = Green Cas = Blue isn’t general lighting theory.

An alternate example: “Bobo Berens, the first LGBT author on Supernatural, affirmed that Castiel was written in place of Colette, Cain’s wife, in Dean’s mirrored life; this is recurring symbolism and reflects often in Beren’s work, wherein his first episode showrunner Carver opted them to act as jilted lovers, and made a vast wash of content involving bold partnership ideals such as ‘at the altar’, ‘secret admirer’, and more that mysteriously hit the cutting room floor, but resonates very loudly through several directly connected seasons and all future work by Berens such as classic romantic partnership gifts and ideas [mixtape, heart connect, etc].”

This is simultaneously coding and subtext. We could frankly make 200 page dissertations about this chain of text -- and most of us already have -- that doesn’t require loudly extrapolating interpretation of external elements or single unrelated lines.

“But subtext is just QUEERBAIT. It’s JUST SUBTEXT, it’s NOT CANON.”

Okay honey let me stop you right there. This is like the most common bad hot take in this fucking fandom. Like every part of it is bad but everybody kind of strings it together into one big Ball of Bad.

Subtext is, summarily, a hidden body of text that is felt in the work. Beyond Who You Want To Be Gay, subtext is a lot of things. Subtext is the value of humanity above all powers and principalities, in Supernatural. And there’s all kinds of other subtext. Whenever you see someone blink and have black eyes in SPN without them saying “I’m a demon” and you know they’re a demon, that’s... kind of subtext too. I mean, we know textually demons have black eyes, but nothing ever said only demons have black eyes. So what if I wanted to say it’s the ghost of big bird? It’s MY INTERPRETATION and MY INTERPRETATION IS VALID TOO.

Shit you can even cobble together half assed unrelated extrapolations--some demons have yellow eyes and Jack had yellow eyes so he wasn’t a demon so clearly not all black eyes are demons and uh... the angel blade kills lots of things, that black eyed thing still wasn’t a demon.

See how easy it is to absolutely BULLSHIT around it with decontextualized BULLSHIT? It almost passes at a glance until held up to the smallest bit of scrutiny and following episodes.

Okay, so look, “It’s my interpretation, and my interpretation is valid” is only as far as it holds up soundly to *you.* As long as it is truly valid to *you.* And that doesn’t mean big brave faces you put on For The Twitter Stan Wars because you don’t want to lose digital clout when the newest episode falls through and blows your entire house of cards out of the water because you weren’t reading the actual subtext being hewn into the story by the authors -- or even forming a resilient resistant read of your own subtext that can hold -- but once that interpretation leaves your mouth to try to bounce off of other people’s viewpoints, you’re now indirectly challenging their viewpoint with theirs. If you stay in your cabal where you think the spirit of big bird has black eyes, and never subtweet or @ or whatever anybody else about this Hot Take, that’s fine, just don’t be surprised when you’re left defending that to whatever followers you pulled into the Big Bird Cabal.

Or you all sit in angry silence with each other and then start helicopter swinging at the writers for ruining The Spirit Of Big Bird that was never fucking there. Because you’re trying to apply patchy, unstable, and generally very piss poorly founded readings to a still released work.

So THAT lead in shoved off to the side about interpretation and keeping your interpretation to yourself if you don’t want to be challenged by far more solid interpretations, Because that’s how content discussion works,

SUBTEXT IS OFTEN A FORMULATIVE PART OF CANON, ESPECIALLY IF IT IS CODED, WHETHER WE ARE TALKING QUEER CODING OR ANY OTHER KIND OF CODING.

Subtext is a thematic undercurrent. Subtext is the unspoken soul of a piece, what lies in the blank space between the lines, but not just whatever you take the lines to be. If you sit down and write a lit paper, you’re gonna have to explain where you pulled your subtext out of.

You can either go the “Death of the Author” route where you summarily erase any commentary ever made and build your own, but you still need to be able to read the sum of the text and present what it all is. And most importantly you can’t just present what it’s not. If your entire reading of a work is trying to explain away common sense bullshit and it ends up reading like All Work No Play Makes Johnny Dull Boy because you had to build 82 nonlinear explanations around what you don’t want, and those all lead to nowhere, that professor is going to flunk the shit out of you. And if you use Death of an Author DEFINITELY don’t simultaneously try to appeal to authority with other quotes convenient to you.

Not Wanting something to Be So and going completely over the river and through the woods in completely disjointed intentionally maladapted readings of refusal doesn’t mean you’ve found subtext, it means you’ve chosen to make a reading -- an interpretation -- that is not really thematically sound with the body of work but for whatever reason, you’ve chosen to make that the meaning it has to *you.* And that’s fine. Unless you’re trying to impress a professor. Or jousting your opinion off of somebody else that isn’t doing cartwheels around the content to avoid the parts they don’t like (and get mad about it later.)

Removing all genuine thematic subtext and disregarding it from any part of the canon discussion of a piece is, however, devastating and essentially rips out the foundation of a piece. This has become all the more common as junk TV gets junkier and continues to appeal to the lowest common denominator that need to be reminded that 2+2=4 every three episodes before they accept that 2+2=4 in their respective canon universe, because otherwise they’ll claim it’s just subtext or someone else’s opinion that it equals 4.

And that’s not what these words mean and I am left eternally climbing up walls, because in this fandom, like... subtext, interpretation, coding, queerbait have all become one amorphous blob that just gets hurled around like four stuck together balls of Gak at a grade school party and just seeing where they splatter.

It is entirely possible for content to be subtextual and canon, if it is thematically resonant with the piece and a loud and fundamental part of its storytelling that it can not operate without acknowledging. Discussion of queer content aside, there’s a lot of shit this applies to. There’s a certain sense of good faith most authors put in their readers/viewers/whatever that people will have an fundamental understanding of the spirit of a work they’re conveying. This good faith amount varies depending on their projected demographic, but let me assure you, if your respective creator essentially has the characters stop and do “today I learned” narratives, or interruption explanation inserts over everything, there’s one of two reasons: 1. It’s a literal parody/comedy 2. It’s either geared for kids or they think you’re all fucking idiots.

As I don’t tend to watch parody, comedy, or kid shows, I tend to favor shows that don’t feel the need to handhold me through every instance of the show. Because I am not nor do I appreciate being treated like an idiot.

Subtext is a valuable part of canon as long as we are talking by virtue of “coding” not “random unfounded interpretation.”

Now, to the topic of queer coding, is it fundamentally gratifying to our primitive lizard brain survival instinct if we see characters kiss or whatever your personal landmark for gratification is? I mean, sure. Does the romance leading up to the kiss absolutely not matter at all until the kiss, or was that early state of subtext, dance, and non-consummation itself a valid romantic journey?

Because honestly this is something I feel current LGBT dialogue is missing. We’re so wounded from being caught in the subtext veil that we want confirmation, but everybody wants to skip the journey to the sweet stuff. I’m not saying every story needs to be a years long slow burn, but y’all. You know how we talk about het romance being boring as fuck because it’s like “dude/chick look at each other and they fuck and now they’re insufferable, hahahah is this what het culture is like is this what they call romance what kind of standards--”? Yeah, we’re rapidly snowplowing towards that.

I’m also not saying quick confirmation is bad either. There’s shows and stories where even pre-confirmed LGBT couples are GREAT to see, just existing in the population. Not every story needs to be THE grand romance, or THE great coming out adventure, some can have already had their adventures just like the Totally Het Neighbors Next Door and that’s... fine. That’s great, even.

But we are approaching Absolute Bottom Barrel Trash Content at terminal velocity, mostly just being exploited and monetized by corporations that are virtue signaling us to give at best sub-par turnout. The amount of currently airing shows with quality queer content can probably be counted on your two hands.QED there’s hundreds of shows, thousands depending on which networks you’re counting in your numbers. Off the top of my head, Legends of Tomorrow has a fabulously queer cast that Just Is without being defined only by having a partner nor being a rainbow lamp with a sticky note of plot directions.

But we are also signaling creators that it’s no longer safe *to* give us gradual, slow burns, or genuine romance either. And we’re ALSO signaling creators -- INCLUDING QUEER CREATORS -- that it is no longer safe to make subtextual or coded content.

“Well good!” you probably say.

NO, THIS IS BAD, THIS IS REALLY, REALLY BAD.

Because while you may live in a fantasy universe where X Network had Y show exactly This Gay To Ride, it’s in blatant disregard of inconsistent landmarks and limbo sticks different shows, creators, and products have to go through, and some people in some shows are trying REALLY REALLY HARD to give you resonant queer content and you’re just shitting all over them and yelling that it’s queerbait.

I mean, queerbait is the idea that someone is giving queer content without intent to follow through and generally to exploit a queer audience. The problem is, all queerbait accusations are launched in default bad faith. Some of that bad faith is earned. Some of it is not. Sometimes there’s a lesbian with a network executive breathing down her neck that just wants to let her girls be together so she has them hold hands, even if she knows The Straights will talk it away as best friends, no matter how many canonically romantic storylines they’ve wedged into the subtext through loudly recognizable tropes.

Queerbait is a VERY DANGEROUS CARD and MUST BE USED WITH EXTREME CAUTION. Because depending on the longevity of what you’re crowing about, without understanding of what’s going on beyond the production veil, you can very easily even get creatives and creators hard shut down on a network level for wanting to protect the product. I’m sure you think “make it gay!” is the one answer to that, but no, it isn’t always, not depending on what the old white guy network exec I mentioned a while ago has in his papers about what or who he interprets pulls his income and what they like via demographics or inconsistent marketing test groups.

That’s not to say never call out queerbait, but the internet desperately needs to be more conscious about when and where they fling it around. What if Korra fans started horrifically screeching about queerbait and blasting it all over the internet and @’ing production or even network people and making devoted articles to make it a shitshow that even hit GA impact zones? Do you really think Nickelodeon would look at their demographic paperwork and throw it in the air and go “Oh! Well we make it gay then.”

Or do you think they’d have left a hard feedback note to further divide those characters with a strong warning about limits and restrictions.

We are slowly moving out of the area of things like queer coded villains and have more migrated into an area of subversive queer coding, but a great deal of subversive queer coding has people lose their SHIT because Some Idiot On The Internet With A Shitty Take And Quarter Assed Interpretation told them “it’s just subtext so it’s not valid until they kiss”, setting out this roving goalpost everybody keeps running after like a goddamn donkey chasing a carrot on a stick, and in some cases completely unable to be reached, despite the LITERAL BEST INTENTION of the authors.

I’ve heard “well if they can’t Bring It All The Way, they shouldn’t at all.” What the FUCK? What kind of UNBEARABLY STRAIGHT WASHED WORLD do you want to live in? What kind of world do you think we’re living in right now? I regret to inform you, Trump got elected to office somehow and reversed a lot of LGBT protections somehow and it’s not just “because Russia,” it’s because there’s still a SHITTON of assholes out there that make corporations that bankroll TV SHITTONS of money and whether we like it or not, TV is a BUSINESS and we’re all DOLLAR SIGNS.

Stripping subversive queer coding, especially from the hands of queer authors, sets us back into a weird offset of primitive ages and extremized content, where the latter becomes poorly packaged lesbians dropped as a marketing plan to upsell Trendy New Teen Show without daring to rattle the middle aged demographic of a split political demographic in another show. No. Absolutely fucking not. Use some responsibility and apply some critical thinking before yelling queerbait and figure out where a problem is in any given situation, that’s all I fucking ask.

Hell for all you know those queer creators could be pitching it again and again behind the scenes, or baited on that side with maybes, or being stalled out by being told to wait for test marketing groups, and generally tugged around on their own leash where corporate is summarily watching the feedback to the blatant but subtextual and coded queer content.

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Now, ALL OF THIS becomes a fucking mess in discussion when people don’t box off these definitions and issues.

If people don’t realize the value of subtext to canon,

And people don’t understand the difference between coding and interpretation,

And people confuse queerbait with any of this,

You end up with some giant VAT of literally EVERYBODY sounding like dipshits because Anti A told Shipper B who loves queer author C and relationship D that It’s Just Subtext, and then Shipper B turns around and yells ITS NOT CANON YOU’RE IDIOTS FOR LOVING IT in their pained bitterness, but then Anti A brings Anti B back and they decide they optically prefer relationship Z that has no actual coding or subtext, but they’ve strapped together their own interpretation, but they confuse interpretation and subtext, and break out all interpretations are equal even if they are not in the body of the actual canon work, but now everybody is yelling it’s not canon because nobody even fucking knows what any of these words mean anymore, and then Shippers A-Z turn around and start yelling queerbait at a gay author just trying to write his little gay heart out-- you see the problem, right?

On the other hand, there’s fandoms where people confuse these same points and think their uncorroborated interpretation is subtext simply because they chose to interpret it that way, and with enough voices drawn into it in the vat of “all interpretations are equal”, turn around and yell queerbait at authors who are scratching their heads going “the fuck are you on about”

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Other bad takes: The opinions of actors really don’t fucking matter. I don’t care if they’re pro-relationship or anti-relationship or just pro/anti any idea other than a relationship. This is like taking the opinion of some dude who played Hamlet an eternity ago for Shakespeare while Shakespeare was still alive and writing about what Shakespeare’s writing meant. His opinion may be meaningful to him, but it is his own interpretation. If Shakespeare wrote Hamlet The Sequel the actor could turn out entirely wrong about what he was babbling about.

Actors are just interpreting the art to screen like you are. Acting is an interpretive art. They’re just. Interpreting. Just like you. So stop whipping out statements of actors against each other. You might as well be quoting jared-uwu-cest.tumblr dot com as an authority for your bad fucking take. Stop it. If actors on the same set have conflicting opinions and are just talking about their opinion, their opinion doesn’t mean shit more than any other fan of the source content, unless they are hand delivering statements, cited, from specific authors they’ve communicated with about the work they’re interpreting from (coming to mind, the time Jensen Ackles went to showrunner Jeremy Carver confused about the romance with Amara feeling right, only to tell us that Jeremy Carver told us that Amara wasn’t his romance, she was his kryptonite).

Now if you’re choosing death of the author NONE of this is relevant, obviously, because you shouldn’t be citing ANY of this, because then you’re just playing to discussion points for convenience. But if you are looking for actual intent, the actor’s interpretation is only as valid as any other dedicated interpretation, albeit possibly more or less sounded in awareness of the text, but is otherwise only as valuable for how direct of a voice box they are being for what authors said about specific scenes. Hell, most things are filmed out of order and many actors don’t watch the whole piece. It already consumes their work life, it won’t consume their home life, no matter how much they love it, they haven’t reviewed the full body of the piece externally as a finished product, just processed emotions out of sequence.

THERE WAS A NEW AVENGER THAT DIDNT EVEN REALIZE HE WAS ACTING A NEW AVENGER UNTIL HE TOOK HIS KIDS TO THE MOVIES AND WAS LIKE “OH SHIT I’M AN AVENGER.” Stop BANKING on actor statements.

This also gets more complicated in group writing projects such as TV shows with multiple authors. And MORE complicated explaining that complication to fandom when they get positive statements from the creator of a show who is the *only* author and then turn around and yell “WHY DIDN’T [OTHER FANDOM]” do that when like, IDK, 6/40 authors have over the course of however long it’s been written on, most have been radio silent and one other had a different opinion and then you just expect some group borg rising of everybody who’s ever written on the show to come and hand deliver you individual hand-fed statements about what they meant.

This entire thing also foregoes the import of directors and how they work with their set dressers as part of the creative process; they’re what manifest the text into a visual medium of the story, which may or may not be identical to the author’s intent. Again, to hearken back to Supernatural as my root fandom here, it’s been mentioned Sgriccia knew how to work with everyone and get what they were meaning to convey with how long he worked on set, so generally, authors and Sgriccia cooperated really well in a full art. Whereas that nightmare of an episode Don’t Go In The Woods was directed by a VFX guy as his first directing experience and we could see he barely knew how to work with actors much less the spirit of the text; he just had great understanding of environment.

These things, these opinions, these takes also matter. Because TV is a different form. I generally don’t see people arguing Pride & Prejudice on twitter, it’s usually TV/movies. Lit theory is incredibly valid for understanding the pace and flow of a body of work but you also have to understand what authors are deeply plugged into that, what directors are deeply plugged in, who’s an experimental folly they’ll patch up the work of afterward, it’s not the same as just reading a novel by one author or, at most, a few co authors in immediate harmony.

Like I don’t know if people think I did my Crazy Pagan Magic to come up with the season 14 ending like I had a pages-long rant reel of direct quotes and shots that literally predicted that Jack was going to lose his soul, become faux-god, and Dean was going to be given an ultimatum of shooting him, probably after killing Mary, because getting the yellow eyed thing was the point right--but that the true scarlet letterman wasn’t their lost child, but the absent father. The Great Father who left all questions--the god of control. But dad told you to put a bullet in me, and you didn’t.

Like, anyone remember me spouting literally all of these things across different posts? It’s not magic. So while Christians in fandom are turning themselves into pretzels making shitbrained theories trying to explain why it Wasn’t Really Chuck Or Chuck Isn’t Really God, I’ve got a few hundred pages of thesises here talking about this being exactly where they were going because of SUBTEXT. Because it’s PART OF THE CANON AND BUILDING THE FUNDAMENTAL STORY.

If it comes to a textual head like Chuck, great. But people have to recognize whatever landmark they set for what they consider a textual head is entirely subject to the creators or, worse, a network. The same way in season 11 they got told they couldn’t kill God, here we go on take 2, maybe the network changed it’s mind, we’ll find out.

These things all interplay VERY IMPORTANTLY with each other and also, this issue goes WELL BEYOND Supernatural fandom. At some point in history a bunch of people in multiple fandoms started slinging these words around without understanding them and bounced them off of more people that don’t understand them and it turns into a goddamn hot mess because nobody’s using words like they mean anymore, just vaguely beating each over the head with it, and it’s driving me i n s a n e. Hell, y’all are undermining YOURSELVES half the time by the way people have taught you to misuse words.

ALSO WRT “CANON”

Most of the above covers what canon is within the way it’s abused in fandom, but I’ve seen some people take the idea of it being accepted into a body of work by the authors as meaning like, every reading of the material needs to be acknowledged by the authors. I already detailed what it means. It’s absolutely not that. 100%. I don’t give a shit how you choose to interpret that. Because there is literally no way on planet earth an author has made a full statement confirming every detail about every part of their book and that goalpost doesn’t just magically manifest when we’re talking about, say, gay shit. Or powers you don’t like. If it’s thematically there, it’s thematically there, you can’t hackjob it out of canon just because This Specific Idea doesn’t have a Canon For Dummies statement attached to it, or worse, one attached to it specifically to your liking, since people like interpreting away ones based on their preferences rather than reason.

Similarly it doesn’t mean there’s a magic goalpost of a vagueblogged percentage of people that must accept the content for it to be canon. Hell, like half the fandom still tricked themselves into thinking there was a reaper retcon in season 9 (x) that NEVER FUCKING EXISTED IN ANY DAMN CAPACITY. Large groups of people choosing to miss the point doesn’t mean the canon didn’t hold the point, simply that they chose to draw another point out of it. Generally, in a still releasing work, that also leaves them disappointed and confused later (such as when someone claimed they retconned the nonexistent reaper retcon, because I heard you like retcons.)

There is no magic percent, no magic statement. These things are nice, but they aren’t what makes canon. Canon is the actual accepted body of work such as seasons, episodes, books, movies, or whatever else as part of the universe. (Eg: Supernatural’s novels are officially noncanonical and not part of discussion of canon content. They are not accepted into canon. That’s what this means.)

Also if you’re talking about canon quantify it. You can be as tired as you want about bad rep, but bad rep quality has nothing to do with the canon source content. You can be as tired about lowkey gayness as you want but are you saying the canon material isn’t romantic at all, or are you saying the characters aren’t consummated yet. If the canon material isn’t canonically romantic why are you yelling queerbait; or acknowledge the value of queer unconsummated canon romances even if you aspire for more, but don’t bounce that goalpost around for convenience, fuck sake.

DID U KNOW that things can be CANONICALLY ROMANTIC without being CANONICALLY CONSUMMATED? Or that even a queer author’s idea of what reads as consummated canon may not be the same as yours? Did you know that a MLM LGBT author in his 40s may have very different ideas of how to express an MLM romance than a bunch of WLW LGBT women of any age, because there’s intersectionality at play? If you don’t want bi men determining how lesbians should be represented we need to apply that all around, kids.

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So sure, your interpretation can be valid, for you. But once you joust others, or pin your interpretation on the show without careful exploration of the actual intentful themes, you’re gonna probably be disappointed as it releases and uproots your ideas. Now the question is if you are willing to hold mature intelligent discourse about other people’s potential interpretations and readings, or if you’re going to grapple onto your old, broken interpretation like Gollum with the Ring because it’s your precious and you’ll let it send you crawling into a moldy cave hissing at anyone happily walking by.

Is Your Interpretation worth your anger when it falls through Do you even WANT to like the show? Do you literally prefer staying angry over reviewing your take compared to people who are still happy with it? Why AREN’T you willing to figure out where you went left of canon?

And furthermore, is your anger and broken interpretation/expectations worth holding onto a damn ring/show that clearly isn’t what you thought it was, or can you toss your fiery stan rage into Mordor before you turn into a twitter goblin and find a place you can interpret differently that makes you happy?

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Lesson: Stop being fandom goblins

Also @tinkdw

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the--sad--hatter · 5 years

Text

Frozen Heart (Prologue)

FANDOM - MARVEL MCU, DEADPOOL & X-MEN

WARNINGS - ALL OF THEM, SMUT, VIOLENCE ANGST

DESCRIPTION -

When Nick Fury finally catches Ex-Shield Agent ‘Black Ice’, The Thief with a Frozen Heart he puts her where she belongs. With The Avengers.

You’re not happy about that decision but you’re the only one who’s kicking up a fuss.

Natasha and Clint are happy to have you back in their lives, Sam Wilson is a big fan, Tony Stark just wants you to keep your hands off his stuff and Steve finds out that not only do you have a connection but you were there for him when nobody else was.

Bucky Barnes is one of the few people who doesn’t have a connection with you but he’d really really like one.

CHAPTER ONE

THE KALAHARI DESERT

The Kalahari desert was in Southern Africa so it was quite obviously hot. In fact it was 930 thousands square km of arid, sandy, scorching hell. Or at least it was supposed to be. Nick Fury used his one good eye to take in the perplexing scene in front of him. Smack bang in the middle of the sand dunes was a military style base which according to their intel belonged to a black arms dealer and known human trafficker known as "The Scorpion".

Bad guys having secret bases was hardly unusual however, what was unusual was the fact that this base was covered in at least three inches of ice. Mercenaries who worked for The Scorpion were scattered around, guns raised and alarm on their faces. Fury paid them little attention, they weren't a threat seeing as they were frozen solid like creepy gun wielding statues.

His attention was focused on the battered remains of a tent in the very center of the icy carnage. The tent was barely erect, the front panel frozen in place and giving him a clear view inside to the young woman lying on the frozen ground, two of his medical personnel checking her for signs of life.

They found what they were looking for and related the news to Fury with a sharp nod of affirmation. She was alive. Fury had known she would eventually make a mistake and now she had, he finally had her.

6 HOURS EARLIER

Your head felt full and heavy, your eyes burned and the air around you was so hot you were suffocating. You forced yourself to drag your eyes open, taking in the scene around you. Sand? Tents? You knew what these things were but why they were here was confusing and you couldn’t seem to get your brain to work properly.

Something moved and you looked up, seeing it was a person coming towards you. You knew them, your brain was telling you they were familiar. Your brain was also screaming something else at you, something important but you couldn’t grasp it.

There was a deep gnawing sense in your gut, not a good feeling. You shifted in the seat and tried to move and that was when you realized you couldn’t.

You couldn’t move.

You felt something on your wrists, binding them together. Raw panic started to claw its way through you and you reacted instinctively, reaching down deep inside yourself for the part of you that you’d locked away. You needed to be free, bad things happened when you couldn’t move.

You remembered the blood and you didn’t want to remember that.

You let the primal power inside yourself out and froze the ropes binding you but it all went horribly wrong. You couldn’t reign it in, you couldn’t control it. The last thing you remembered was screaming.

9 DAYS LATER – Avengers Compound, Up-state New York

You had a habit of waking up in unfamiliar places so you weren't too worried at first. It wasn't until you registered the steady beeping of a heart monitor that your brow furrowed in confusion. Your eyes flew open and you tried to sit up, immediately regretting it as the cuffs on either wrist snapped against the metal bed-frame, pulling you back down with a wince of pain.

Panic rippled through you but then a deep chuckle to your right had you turning to face your company, and a growl of displeasure ripped out of your throat as soon as you did. Still, the sight of him calmed your fears and you knew, even if you were cuffed you were safe.

"What the fuck Clint?" You spat out, your voice hoarse from disuse, your hands automatically twisting in the cuffs.

The blonde man sitting on a chair next to the hospital bed you were currently cuffed to smirked at you, unfolding himself ungracefully from the uncomfortable looking plastic chair and leaning over to offer you a cup of water.

You glared at him as he raised it to your lips, tilting it to allow the cool liquid to pour down your throat. The sensation was most welcome, you had no idea how you’d become so thirsty.

Then it hit you, you had no idea how you’d ended up in hospital at all. A quick glance around the room offered no answers. It looked like a standard, albeit well-funded hospital room. The blinds were closed, there were no glass panels on the door to look out of and you and Clint were the only ones in the room.

Panic and uncertainty started to claw at your gut and you looked up at Clint, your expression blank and controlled but he saw the fear and vulnerability in your eyes. He could always see right through you.

“What happened to me?” To anyone else it would have sounded like a demand but Clint knew you well enough to see the plea on your face.

You pulled at the cuffs again and huffed in annoyance. Clint smirked and tapped his ear to let you know he could hear you, you didn’t have to sign.

“What’s the last thing you remember?” He asked you gently.

You frowned, trying to pull up your memories and Clint watched the emotions flit across your face, confusion, pain and then horror.

“Motherfucker.” You whispered.

“That about sums it up... Miss Daniels this time are we?” A deep voice spoke and the door sprung open as Nick Fury walked into the room.

Your expression hardened instantly and Clint's turned apologetic. Fury noted that, the way he noted everything. He glared down at you, trying to intimidate you.

“You froze a 2 mile radius in the desert, killing everyone there instantly. When we found you, you were nearly dead yourself. Lucky for you, we patched you back up and covered up your little mess.” Fury stated.

There was a long pause as he waited for you to say something but you didn’t.

“What, you’re not even going to say thank you?” Fury enquired sarcastically.

“Saying thank you could be taken as an admission of guilt, so no.” You rebutted.

Fury turned to look at Clint who sighed heavily.

“It’s over, you were found in the middle of the scene. We know you’re responsible.” Clint told you.

“We even have a good idea as to why you did it.” Fury informed you and he didn’t miss the way your jaw clenched in response.

“One of the bodies we found on site was First Lieutenant Charles Braxton, your commanding officer. The man who trained you for the past two years and fast tracked you to his special black ops task force. Decorated war hero, husband, father and best friend to Senator Jim Grant. Oh and he was also the criminal known as The Scorpion.” Fury said.

You took in a deep shuddering breath before you spoke, keeping your voice as even as possible.

“If you already know what happened, why bother asking me? What’s your play here Fury?”

“I’m asking because I don’t know what happened but I’ll tell you my theory. You found out Braxton was The Scorpion and he drugged you, kidnapped you and took you to his base. He probably thought he could turn you to his side. He had no idea who you really were though because you would never trust anybody enough to tell them what you were capable of. So when you woke up tied to a chair in the middle of the desert, having just been betrayed and attacked by your supposed mentor and friend you reacting instinctively and tried to freeze the ropes binding you enough to snap them and free yourself. You didn’t account for the drugs in your system or the adrenaline or the emotional turmoil you were facing though because you have always hidden your abilities away rather than learn to use them and instead of freeing yourself you lost control and created a cold snap in the Kalahari that killed everyone around you. How’d I do Miss Daniels?”

“That’s not a theory, that’s exactly what happened and you know it. But you’ve got a second theory lined up where I’m the villain right? Either you rescued a powerful asset or you took down a threat.” You laughed but there was no humour in it.

You knew what was going on. Fury had told you this day was coming and deep down you had always known he was right.

“You’re damn right I do. You killed a lot of people and even if I wanted to I can’t ignore that. I can bring you into the fold and protect you or I can lock you up and throw away the key. Those are the only two choices here. Now I made no secret about wanting you to re-join Shield but last time I asked you told me in no uncertain terms where I could shove that offer. I’m hoping you’ll be smarter this time now that SHIELD isn’t around. So what’s it going to be Miss Daniels, are you finally ready to become an Avenger or are you going to spend the rest of your life in a 4×4 cell?” Fury asked.

You whistled lowly.

“Alright Shaft, I’ll admit it. I was not expecting that.” You said, eyebrows practically disappearing into your hairline.

It was worded like a choice but all three of you knew it wasn’t, not really.

Clint knew you were stubborn and liked to dig your heels in but even you wouldn’t choose life imprisonment just to be spiteful. Fury knew it as well. You looked up at Clint and he braced himself for the anger about to be hurled his way but it never came.

You wanted to be angry at him but you knew it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t done this to you, you had done it to yourself. You had locked your abilities away, pretending you were nothing more than human and it had led to you losing control.

Now you had backed yourself into a corner and the only way out was through Fury, whether it be as an Avenger or a prisoner.

“IF I agree to this ridiculous proposal, I want my record wiped. My real record.” You told him.

“You’re in an awfully precarious position to be making demands. You don’t want to go to prison, If I don’t agree to your terms are you really going to refuse to join The Avengers?” Fury asked you.

You met his eyes and he saw it, you didn’t believe he was going to pass up the opportunity to recruit you but if he called your bluff there was no way you would back down.

He couldn’t comprehend why you were so stubborn but he didn’t have to, he just had to accept it. He nodded his assent and you and Clint both let out a small sigh of relief.

“Welcome to Shield Miss Daniels, Agent Barton here will explain the situation to you regarding the events in the Kalahari Desert and as soon as you’re medically cleared you’ll be introduced to the team who will oversee your official training.” Fury spoke in a crisp and authoritative tone before making his way to the door.

He had gotten what he came for, he wasn’t going to stick around any longer but you spoke up before he could make his exit.

“20 bucks says you regret this before we even reach the end of the month.” You called challengingly.

“I’ll take that bet.” He said without even looking back, letting the door close behind him.

Clint shook his head at you.

“It’s impressive how well he can glare at you with just one eye. Wonder how scary he was when he had both.” You snarked.

“It’s the one eye that makes the glare so effective. And you’ve been unconscious for nine days. The end of the month is tomorrow.” He dead-panned.

You swore and tried to sit up, forgetting about the cuffs and swore again as you were yanked back down. Clint made a strangled noise as he tried not to laugh. He reached over and pushed down on the cuffs, they were pressure locked and didn’t need a key so they popped open quickly and you held your wrists to your chest and rubbed them.

“Nine days?” You asked, confused.

“You were extremely dehydrated and had mild hypothermia. Add that to the drugs Braxton used on you and well… you weren’t in great shape when we found you.” He explained.

There was an edge to his voice, he was holding something back and whatever it was was bothering him. You reached your hand out, palm to the ceiling and waited. He sighed and put his hand in yours

“You get yourself into some stupid shit kid, and she’s not happy about it.” He whispered with an apologetic look on his face.

You shot up in the bed, alarm on your face.

“No no no no no, tell me she doesn’t know!” You begged.

Clint swallowed thickly.

“Fury said he’d tell her when you woke up.” Clint said, getting off the bed and backing into the corner of the room furthest from the door.

You went pale as you glanced franticly around the room like a deer caught in a trap but there was nowhere to hide and you knew it.

“Traitor!” you hissed at Clint as the door swung open and you swallowed heavily before turning to face your fear.

Clint winced under his breath at the expression on Natasha’s face and you felt like you’d been kicked in the chest as you laid eyes on her for the first time in years.

There was nothing you could say in that moment, no way to ask for forgiveness so you just reached out you hand to her, silently begging for something you didn’t deserve. She didn’t hesitate to take it, squeezing your hand reassuringly. And then continuing to squeeze.

“Ow, ow, ow. UNCLE!” You shrieked.

“As soon as your better, we’re playing 60 seconds.” Natasha said with a wicked glint in her eye.

“If you’re so mad, why are you here?” You sighed.

“I came to check on Clint. I would have come to check on you as well but we both know you can take care of yourself can’t you? You don’t need me.” She responded cooly.

Clint could feel the rising tension and he didn’t want a repeat of last time you and Natasha had been in the same room.

“You need rest, you start training as soon as you’re upright and we still need to take an official statement regarding the situation in the Kalahari.” He spoke over whatever biting remark you’d been about to shoot off at Natasha.

Natasha turned her annoyed look onto him, though it was legions softer than what she had directed at you.

“I have to convince the team to actually take her. Just because it’s what Fury wants, doesn’t mean Cap or Tony will be on board.” Natasha said, releasing your hand.

“What are you going to tell them about me?” You asked her.

“For once, the truth.” She informed you.

Clint nodded at her and she turned to leave while you studiously kept your face turned away from the door. Neither you or Natasha could see each other expressions but from his position at your bedside he could see it all, the brief moment of regret and longing you both had before you schooled your expressions expressions.

Clint sighed heavily and wondered what he’d done in a past life that was so bad he deserved to be connected to two such stubborn people. It was only when the door clicked closed you allowed yourself to drop the anger and look at him.

“How bad is it going to be?” You asked nervously and Clint chuckled at your reaction.

“They’re going to eat you alive.” He reassured you.

Tomorrow he would break the news to you that officially Agent Daniels had died in the Kalahari. But that could damn well wait because Clint had missed you, only to get you back in a near death state.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

“Stark, didn’t you get hit by that ice thief a few years ago?” Natasha asked as she walked into the meeting room.

“Four years ago, she broke into the tower and stole an Iron Suit Prototype and left an ice sculpture replica in it’s place.” Tony said with a sour look on his face.

“Yeah, but didn’t she put the suit back the next day? It was on the news.” Sam pointed out.

“Not the point Wilson. She did it to piss me off.” Tony snapped.

“I think it worked.” Wanda coughed.

“Why are you bringing up old wounds Romanov? Nobody’s seen Black Ice for years.” Tony asked exasperatedly.

“Nobody ever saw her, that’s why they called her Black Ice...” Sam added.

“She’s in your medbay.” Natasha said with a smirk.

There was silence.

“The new recruit Fury dropped on my doorstep is the thief who taunted me? And I saved her life?” Tony shrieked.

“Cho saved her life, you just paid Cho to do it.” Sam sniggered, sending Wanda devolving into a fit of giggles.

“Well I’m going to be the one to kill her!” Tony insisted.

“Barton might be a little upset if you do that.” Natasha informed him.

Tony squinted suspiciously at her.

“Why?” Steve was the one to ask.

“Black Ice is a former Shield Agent and yes Tony... Fury, Barton and I knew it was her who stole your suit. She dropped off the radar three years ago, faked her own death after an incident in Moscow. Clint just got her back, he might be annoyed if you go and kill her.”

“You knew?!” Tony was incensed.

“You’re friends with Black Ice?”Wanda asked excitedly.

“Who do you think gave her the name?” Natasha asked her.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

The next morning you were all but tossed out of the hospital bed by Clint who flung a change of clothes at you and told you the bad news.

You didn’t have any close friends, actually any friends at all to mourn your “death” but you still allowed yourself a moment of sadness for the life you were leaving behind. You were shaken out of your moment by a knock on the door and you looked up to see a Natasha stood in front of you.

There was no readable emotion on her face, no indication as to whether she was here to hug you or to kill you. Though that question was quickly answered as with an almost unnoticeable flick of her wrist Natasha sent a knife flying straight at your face.

You whipped your head back just in time, though you were still a fraction of a second too slow and the blade left a slight nick across your left cheek before embedding itself in the wall behind where your head had previously been.

“Reaction time is a little slow but not terrible. You haven't been keeping up with your training. Keep the knife, consider it gift” Natasha told you with a smirk.

You glared at Natasha with wide eyes as she turned and sauntered away.

“Oh and welcome back to the land of the living сестренка.” Natasha called over her shoulder.

You scowled as you signed the medical discharge papers, almost signing Daniels out of habit. It would take some getting used to being a Barton again.

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

So this is going to be my next fic series after Name Calling IF you guys like it. If not, I can scrap it and work on something else. It’s kinda up to you lovely people, and I won’t be offended if this isn’t a hit.

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toaarcan · 5 years

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Scourge the Hedgehog: The Bad Fanfic Apotheosis

Y’all are gonna hate me for this one.

This is something of a followup to my previous post, Fiona Fox: Depth vs. Prominence, and inspired directly by the discussion I had with a friend in the comments section of the DA upload of it.

Part 1: Fanfic vs. Canon- Genesis of the Recolour Elements of the Archie Sonic the Hedgehog comic have long been compared to a bad fanfiction, particularly the parts of the story written by Ken Penders, though other writers like Bollers, Chacon, and Flynn have drawn that label too. I'm one of the people that's done it, and that's largely because I hold fanfic and official material to very different standards. There are certain things you can do in fanfic that you can't do in official material, especially with franchises like Sonic, and especially with more niche parts of said franchise, like a comic series. Of course, there are also certain things you can do in both, but you probably shouldn't. And Scourge is one of them. What exactly the process behind Scourge's creation was is something that's been debated. For a lot of people, he's considered to be a parody of the then-rampant "Sonic Recolour" fad, wherein fans would take screenshots of Sonic X, and other official artwork, and then edit it in Microsoft Paint, or another similar program, to create their own characters and stories. Now, this was long decried by other fans, myself included, as incredibly lacking in creativity and originality. It also had an "Ew, cringe" reaction, due to the often-shoddy editing, text-to-speech voices, and usually some top-tier mid-2000s Nu Metal for the music. These days, it's much easier to look back and say "These were mostly made by kids who were just having fun, and it's completely harmless", and it becomes apparent that a lot of the people that were making fun of them and criticising them were grown men, at which point you kinda realise that this "internet fad" was basically just bullying a bunch of children for not being up to the creative standards of some adults. Everybody was looking for the next Chris-Chan, but Chris-Chan is a near-unique entity, as only one other person alive has ever managed to combine that sheer void of talent with a monumentally repulsive personality, and that person is Ken Penders. But Sonichu is the least interesting thing about Chris, and Chris became the laughingstock that he is because of his inability to avoid posting his entire life on the Internet, which was something of a rarity in those halcyon days before the rise of modern social media. Sonichu was a gateway to the actually interesting content also on his channels, whereas these recolour-creators didn't have anything like that, just endless Windows Movie Maker slideshows. And, like, Chris was in his 20s when he became the Internet's punching bag for the first time, and while he's a horrible person, so were the people that dedicated their time and effort to trolling him- His story is fascinating, but it has no heroes. And into this collective cocktail of grown men shitting on preteens, so Ian Flynn introduced Scourge the Hedgehog. Is Scourge a parody of Sonic recolours? I sincerely hope not. The reason for that is twofold, and I'll discuss how his portrayal generally doesn't seem to be mocking those tropes further down the page, but the second issue with the idea that he is a parody is best explained by Sir Terry.

Parody can never punch down, and as a then-24 year old man writing official canon for a franchise, mocking a bunch of 10 year olds on the Internet for making bad stories would definitely be punching down. And, as I said, nothing about the way Scourge is written is in any way poking fun at the tropes of these fancharacters and stories. It's pretty much all played completely straight. So not only do I hope Ian wasn't trying to mock these fancharacters, but there's also little reason to believe that he actually was. He's not a parody, he is a send-up. And on the one hand, it's kinda nice to throw a bone to those kids. But on the other hand... is Scourge really the character you want to represent your part of the fandom in official material? A cruel, violent, abusive, vicious monster that spends his time palling around with a girlfriend that the writer reforged to be the most unlikable character in the entire comic? Yeah, can't say that's what I'd want if I were one of those people, but he seems to be popular enough, so maybe I'm in the minority there. But now we get to the meat of the problem. You see, the way Scourge is written is one of those things that you can do in fanfic, but you shouldn't do in canon. Part 2: What is a Mary-Sue? The term "Mary-Sue" gets thrown around a lot these days. It's gradually lost all meaning, and has slowly become a term for "Female character that I don't like," mainly used by whiny, easily-offended Broflake Youtubers, who get all pissy that Star Wars films aren't specifically catering to them, to the point that you only have to make a girl be good at something in a movie and these pissbabies lose their shit. I liked Episode VII and VIII more than I, II, or VI, get fucked. But what, then, is a Mary-Sue? And why is it relevant to Scourge? The answer to that first question is a lot more complicated than it might seem. Not just because there are now several different varieties of the trope, but also because the trope itself evolved as it began to be applied to non-fanworks, and additionally because the name itself is somewhat non-indicative. A male Mary-Sue can exist, though these are normally referred to as "Marty-Stue" or "Gary-Stue", or more cynically "The Protagonist". Check out the average Batman comic these days and you'll see what I mean. Originally, the term applied only to a self-insert character in a fanfic, that was an overly-idealised version of the author, dramatically overpowered, hugely popular, normally dating whichever member of the cast the author wanted to bone, or sometimes multiple partners at the same time, along with a few other traits. It's actually pre-Internet term, originating in a Star Trek fanzine when "Mary-Sue" was created as a parody of other fans' similar characters. Over time, the trope evolved to the point that, while the "author avatar" feature is still a pretty big indicator, it's not really necessary. So while there are probably plenty of people out there who want to be Batman, not every character that is a Mary-Sue is someone for the author to project themselves onto, and not every author avatar is a Mary-Sue. Generally, the important features of a Mary-Sue are now: 1) Receives a great deal of favouritism from the author 2) More powerful than the rest of the cast, often to the point of absurdity 3) Faces zero consequences for their actions. 4) Liked by characters that have no reason to do so 5) In a relationship with a character that has no reason to date them, previous relationships be damned. 6) Most importantly, the story will bend over backwards to give them easy wins, even in situations where they logically should struggle. You're probably starting to get where I'm going with this, and if you're not... Part 3: Creator's Pet Scourge is a Creator's Pet. He gets shown a fair bit of favouritism from Ian Flynn, primarily the guise of how much focus he gets. Scourge is the most prolific villain in Ian's run, aside from Eggman himself. While other, better villains like Mogul and Naugus were being imprisoned repeatedly until one retired and the other became a dog, and a huge chunk of the comic's remaining antagonists were being subsumed into the Eggman Empire, Scourge was only moving up, not only being the villain of Ian's first two issues on the book, but continuing to make sporadic appearances for the next twenty issues, before appearing as the new leader of the Destructix under Finitevus in the Enerjak Reborn arc, followed swiftly by a stint as the Big Bad in Bold New Moebius. Does he actually deserve this level of importance? You be the judge, but personally, I don't think so. Even within those stories, Scourge gets special treatment, the biggest and most obvious being Metal Scourge. Now, personally, I think Metal Scourge was a better character than Scourge himself, but the fact that, of all people, Scourge got a Metal counterpart before anyone else, including Knuckles, who had such a counterpart in the games for over a decade by that point. Especially since, well... Metal and Mettle is a fun story, but it doesn't really do anything for Bold New Moebius as a whole, does it? It's basically pure filler, only really serving to add another dead Metal Sonic to Ian's list and stall the plot out for a bit longer. And, of course, the most clear indicator of Scourge's favouritism is that he was he first Archie character to receive his own Sonic Universe arc, and the only one to do so without needing two or three SEGA characters also making up the rest of the lead cast. "Lockdown" isn't a particularly good story, but its existence speaks to not just the insane popularity that such an unworthy character received, but also Archie's willingness to indulge that. Sonic Universe was largely intended to tell stories revolving around the members of the SEGA cast that, for whatever reason, weren't able to regularly appear in the main book. This... frequently got broken, with Sonic, Tails, Sally, Bunnie, Antoine, and Amy all taking centre-stage in the book before obvious candidates like the Chaotix got a look in, some of them twice over, but Scourge was the only time they were willing to try a story based entirely around one of their characters, and they gave it to the already extremely prominent Scourge. It's pretty clear that Ian loved using this character, and did so as much as possible. YMMV on whether that's good or not. Part 4: Scourge OP plz nerf Let's be real, he's overpowered as fuck. Now, overpowered characters aren't necessarily bad, but it's significantly harder to write an OP character than an on-average one, and Scourge didn't work out so well. From the moment he turns green, he's basically unstoppable. The one time he actually seems to remotely struggle is actually in 161, where he looks ever-so-slightly winded after curbstomping Sonic and Shadow at the same time. From then on, while he does start to slowly even out with Sonic, he also continues to utterly demolish basically everyone else, especially his easy conquest of Moebius. It's been suggested that conquering Moebius should be easy, because the big threats are all good, kind people there, but that somewhat ignores that there are anti-versions of the heroes kicking about too. All the (Mostly) benevolent rulers of the Primeverse should be tyrannical despots there, and there are excessively powerful entities like the Anti-versions of Merlin and the Guardians, not to mention whatever horrors Anti-Gerald would've unleashed on the world, and that's without the Suppression Squad themselves. While the comic has generally treated Sonic as being able to stomp the entire rest of the FF, well, who says it has to be a fight? Why the fuck doesn't Patch just poison him? I mean, the obvious answer is "Because then Bold New Moebius won't have a main villain", and sometimes contractual villain immortality has to be a thing, but a good writer should be able to avoid putting the characters in that position. Following on from that, Scourge gets to fight basically the entire FF and Suppression Squad at the same time, (Sonic and Amy are absent and Fiona is on his side), and he's winning until Sonic shows up. Then directly after that is the hedgehog brawl, and despite Sonic managing to get everyone against Scourge, he easily manages to escape and break out his Super form. Even after spending his time in the No-Zone completely powerless, Scourge manages to break out the moment he gets his powers back, despite the prison being full of characters who should be equally or more powerful than him, and the police force that caught them all, basically unchallenged. Scourge never faces an actual challenge in the comic. He never struggles, and the one time he actually loses? Ian makes up some new lore on the spot, which is contradictory to SEGA lore from the same year, and then uses that to have Sonic trick Scourge into depowering himself. Not only does Scourge never struggle with anything, but he also never actually loses a fight. Part 5: When will you learn, that your actions have consequences?! Probably never, because Scourge's actions never have consequences. Throughout his entire run, Scourge gets to go wherever he wants, do what he wants, with or to whomever he wants, and he never has to deal with the fallout of the decisions he makes. Absorbs the energy of a matter world into his antimatter body? He's better than fine, it only made him stronger. Turns up in Knothole with his secret girlfriend's hated arch rival by his side? Never mentioned again. Blows Fiona's connection to him, costing Finitevus' operation a potential spy in Knothole, where Knuckles is? Not even considered a factor. Ditches Finitevus to go and make Moebius into an egopolis? Finitevus isn't bothered, and supports Fiona's efforts to rescue him later down the line after than plan backfired on him. Blinds Patch in one eye out of jealousy/spite? The guy that poisoned Armand and Max, took a torch to Antoine's personal life, took advantage of Sally's frayed mental state, emotionally damaged Bunnie, and tried to assassinate Elias to get what he wanted lets him get away with it. Openly announces that he's going to destroy both worlds? Conveniently does it when he's alone with Sonic so nobody can tell Fiona what she's letting herself in for. He eventually does get sent to jail, but he breaks out with ease the next time he turns up. Because, y'know, that's just what we want to see. Villains never having to deal with karma. Part 6: What does anyone see in him? Scourge doesn't quite get the "everyone loves him" treatment, but he still gets a whole lot more respect than he's ever earned. Both Sonic and Zobotnik are portrayed arbitrarily deciding that maybe there's a shred of good in this monster, and this is the part where I stress that he's abusive again. Maybe if I repeat that enough it'll sink in. Despite knowing full-well the sort of person Scourge is, Sonic's response to Scourge's crappy cribbing of the "One Bad Day" speech is to try and turn it around and claim that Scourge only needs a tiny bit of decency to be a good person, and this is outright untrue, and given what we see of Scourge later, I'm frankly disgusted that Ian tried to pull this with a character he'll pretty much unambiguously portray as an abuser. Zobotnik's case is even more baffling. We're introduced to the guy in the Lockdown arc, and it's implied that he's effectively a tyrannical warden, ruling over the No-Zone with an iron fist, taking an almost sadistic delight in punishing the inmates. But yet, for whatever reason, he decides that it's a good idea to try and rehabilitate Scourge, for no adequately established reason. Even on the other side of the morality line, we have Finitevus, who apparently respects Scourge enough to not just make him leader of the Destructix during the Enerjak Reborn arc, despite him very clearly not being a leader, and not being liked by any of his comrades except Fiona, but then when he promptly ditches the whole plan toward the end, Finitevus apparently decides that he not only wants to get him back, but is willing to go to great lengths and risk losing the only team of mercenaries dumb enough to work for a guy who is quite open about his intentions to "purify the world with Chaos fire" in order to do it. And speaking of, the most egregious case of this comes again in Lockdown, where the Destructix all end up siding with Scourge. Across the second half of the arc, Scourge learns his new team's backstories, and despite them clearly showing traits and beliefs that should make them respect him less, this somehow works in his favour, and he manages to wrest leadership of the team from Fiona. Especially galling is that it appears that Fiona loses their respect early on because of her faith in Scourge, who to them, looks pathetic, but then they end up supporting him anyway, despite doing nothing to earn it. But wait, one's missing... Looks like it's that time again. Part 7: Oh right, he's an abuser. It's time to talk about Fiona. Fiona's heel turn is really, really effective at selling you on the idea that Fiona is a vile, cruel, and selfish person. It's a dramatic, "big bang" moment that, in basically a single panel, got an entire fandom to hate a character. Now for some it was more of a "Love to hate" thing, but there are plenty of people out there who just really hate Fiona for this single moment. And when you're introducing a new major villain, maybe that's what you want to accomplish. What it doesn't do, however, is sell you on her motives for taking that course of action. Fiona, for the rest of her existence, mainly antagonises Sally, whom she has no worthwhile connection to on either side of her turn, other than being the evil Sally to Scourge's Evil Sonic, and stands around or clings to Scourge's arm, looking smug about her abusive relationship. And yes, it is abusive, verbal abuse is still abuse, and the implications that he's physically abusive are present too. I know this is something that Scourge's fans don't really want to accept, but it's true, and we're going to get into that later. For now, what matters is that this character's run as a villain mainly consists of: Fiona: "Hey Sugar-Queen, look at how much my boyfriend yells at me and insults me, and probably beats me when he's angry. I make smart decisions and you suck." We never come to understand why this character, who is so motivated by her belief that everyone will eventually double-cross her that she has decided to start lashing out at people before they can turn on her, is willing to put her faith 100% in someone so repeatedly deceptive that he first approached her by pretending to be someone else. Like, in terms of bad first impressions, that's up there with arriving at a job interview in full clown regalia. The comic makes no effort to show why these characters like each other. Scourge allegedly likes her because she chooses to turn evil and join him, rather than being born evil, but this clashes with not only the fact that Fiona is a genuinely good person before this, who makes a solid effort to stay loyal to her friends first, and is lured into villainy by him, but also the fact that she blames everyone but herself for her current situation, but especially with the fact that all of the foreshadowing for Fiona turning evil consists of people not trusting her because she has a shady history. Scourge claims to appreciate that Fiona is a good person that chooses to be evil, but the narrative has a clear message of "If you started evil, it doesn't matter if you try to become good, you will always revert to type." Which isn't exactly a good message, Ian. In return, all we get from Fiona's side is that Scourge "has no expectations of her and just wants to have fun", which clashes entirely with how we see them interact in subsequent arcs, where Fiona frequently looks disturbed or apprehensive, or just bored, while Scourge yells at her and threatens her for not meeting his standards. Seriously, why do people ship this? But okay, okay. Scourge is a good liar, and Fiona's established paranoia and history do make her vulnerable to manipulators like him, so maybe she falls for his lies and gets taken for a ride. That could happen, sure. Doesn't really explain why she becomes a horrendous person all of a sudden, but whatever. Maybe he convinced her to do it as a sort of hazing, and a means of ensuring she couldn't go back. That fits with his abusive nature (You might also notice that this the explanation I used in Revival). But why does she stay? And why does she refuse every out she's given? Why, after everything that pulled her to his side has turned out to be bullshit, does she remain devoted to him? Now, you can argue that due to the abuse and the manipulation she's suffered, she believes she has to stay with him, and that's a fair shout, but her appearance in Journey to the East is kind of a stumbling block for that theory, because we're shown a Fiona who is fully capable of functioning without him, and even after making efforts to establish herself... the next time we see her she's gone back for him. And now... well, it's time to talk about that "A" word I've been bringing up a lot in this section. Scourge is abusive. I've frequently referenced that he verbally abuses Fiona every time she displeases him across the book, but the most telling scene is this one from Issue 190.

"You do not want to be sent back with me." Translation: "If I get sent back, and you're sent back too, I'm going to beat the shit out of you." Fiona (With her invisible left arm) isn't excluded from this threat. Fiona isn't surprised by this threat either. Nor does she not take the threat seriously. She looks like she's expecting to be struck. He beats her. And please, nobody say that "he's just angry", that's apologism. Now, I dunno if this was in the script, or if Fiona's face was something Yardley did on his own, but given that this arc ends with Super Scourge announcing his intention to destroy both Mobius and Moebius, simply because he can, regardless of the collateral, I'm willing to bet that this relationship wasn't a happy, stable one. But, unfortunately, this element was never made clear enough. Now, your mileage may vary on whether you think Sonic the Hedgehog comics are the appropriate place to discuss abusive relationships or not, but we've got one now, and Ian dropped the ball. This wasn't a Joker/Harley, where the pairing was clearly abusive but also sold DC/Warner millions of dollars worth of merch, this wasn't a RWBY, where Adam took three years to show up and had already won a huge number of fans from his admittedly cool design and powers, so people already liked him before they even knew what his personality was like. Ian had full control over this, no merch to worry about, and Scourge's prolific appearances gave him plenty of opportunity to make it clear that this was an ugly, repulsive thing that Fiona needed to get out of ASAP. And he didn't. Because panels like this, and all the yelling, clearly weren't enough for the fandom. No, you point this detail out to them and they'll make excuses, try to pretend it didn't happen, or just get offended, or worst of all, outright say they don't care and still ship it. We have fanartists who became real official artists creating stories where this garbage-fire pairing is used for sad feels, not because Fiona got stuck in a relationship with a controlling, violent monster, but because oh no they really loved each other and now Fiona's dead isn't it tragic don't you feel sorry for Scourge? No. No I don't. I feel sorry for the thousands of teenagers who support an abusive relationship because Ian was too cowardly to make it clear that the relationship in question was just that. Now, do I think that Ian is an intentional abuse apologist? No. Do I think he wimped out of taking the necessary steps to make it clear that this was bad because he didn't want people to dislike his shitty pet villain? Oh yeah, I do. Scourge's reputation was more important to Flynn than appropriately and sensitively portraying a destructive, damaging relationship between a woman and her monstrous partner. Well, I say "Woman", let's not forget that Fiona was meant to be sixteen, and realistically if you take her timeline into account she's more likely to be about fourteen. Real fucking classy. Part 8: Effort? What effort? So, now we get to our final criteria. And frankly, it's the easiest one to cover. From the moment, Scourge turns green, his life becomes a cakewalk. Everything he ever wants is handed to him with zero actual struggle on his part. Wants to be stronger than Sonic? He is. Zero side-effects to using a Chaos energy form from a mirror universe, or having a Super transformation interrupted, he just seemingly gets to be half-Super forever. Wants another leg-up on Sonic? Here's Fiona, sans personality. Sonic says he's just a lame ripoff of himself? He conquered a planet in a week, look at how cool he is. Also his team all roll over and make him their leader even though they hate him and they could easily kill him. He gets to walk through the entire FF/Squad teamup, and the Hedgehog teamup, and then when he gets to the No-Zone, Zobotnik, who has kept far smarter and more dangerous characters locked up for decades arbitrarily decides to reform him and gets completely suckered by him. The Destructix fully throw in with him, despite him never actually earning their respect. He never loses a fight where he wasn't depowered first. You know what the irony of this is? Ian has a character whom he is contractually obligated to never have lose for longer than an issue or two. And honestly, he wasn't awful at disguising that. Sonic gets a few wins that feel too easy, but for the most part, the issues with this rule mainly manifest in Sonic's limp responses to the tragedies happening around him, and a sprinkling of minor failures and pyrrhic victories ensure that the rule looks more like shoddy writing in a few places unless you're explicitly told about it. And even then, he still manages to make it look like Sonic struggles to attain those victories, that he has to actually put his back into it every time. He is challenged. Scourge isn't allowed to be challenged. That's the irony. Ian has a protagonist who he is not allowed to have lose, and Sonic still manages to be avoid looking like a boring invincible hero, while Scourge just never faces anything that can actually pose a threat to him. Powerful opponents crumple before him. Characters' personalities and development shift to suit his needs. The plot warps to benefit him. Because heaven forbid Scourge actually have to work for his wins. Who needs stakes when you can have the writer on your side! Part 9: In summation... I think you should've all twigged where this is going by now, so let's wrap up. 1) Does Scourge receive a great deal of favouritism from the author? Yes. 2) Is Scourge more powerful than the rest of the cast, often to the point of absurdity? Yes. 3) Does Scourge face zero consequences for his actions? Yes. 4) Is Scourge liked or respected by characters that have no reason to do so? Yes. 5) Is Scourge in a relationship with a character that has no reason to date him? Yes. 6) Most importantly, does the story will bend over backwards to give Scourge easy wins, even in situations where he logically should struggle? Yes. According to these criteria, Scourge the Hedgehog is almost a textbook example of a Mary-Sue. Which is probably why something as disgusting as him got away with so much. I guess, then, that his role in Revival, and a lot of the stuff before that, is the unfortunate reality of a Mary-Sue who suddenly has to deal with the fact that they're no longer getting that special treatment from the writer. That now their actions have consequences, that now the universe doesn't shape itself to their desires.

#Sonic the Hedgehog #Archie Sonic #Ian Flynn #Scourge the Hedgehog #Fiona Fox #Evil Sonic #Critical #CW: Abuse #TW: Abuse

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pocketsizedsamwinchester · 5 years

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My Body, My Rules

Pairing: Jared x Reader x Jensen

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of abortion

Beta: @shay67ss

As an actress, your “personal life” wasn’t really that personal. It always seemed like somebody was in business- telling you what to wear, that they didn’t like your hair, that your boobs and that your ass wasn't big enough or that they were both too big. It seemed as if all of your fans knew everything about you. But there was just one thing they didn’t- and you intended on keeping it that way. You adored your fans and your co-workers too. However, despite having no personal life, you would never change your job for the world! You loved acting- it was your life. There you were, sitting on the bed in your hotel room in your matching lacy black bra and panty set, staring at the opened suitcase on the floor, deciding what to wear. After many minutes of serious deliberation, you decided on black jeans with a loose-fitting and open blue, tank top style blouse. You also decided on beige coloured pumps to wear. If you got tired of heels, you packed your comfy Birkenstocks sandals in your bag to change into.

“Now… Hair.” You mumbled to yourself, sitting in front of the mirror.

You pulled it back into a simple dutch braid. You would be meeting Jared and Jensen backstage in twenty minutes as they decided to drive from their houses in Austin, Texas. Dallas Con was about to start and you were excited to get that face to face time with your fans during your panel. Today, you and Jensen had a panel while Jared had photo-ops and autographs. Then, after lunch, you and Jared had a panel while Jensen had photo-ops and autographs. After Dinner, the cast was heading down to a local bar to do some karaoke. Sunday was the gold panel featuring Jensen and Jared, while they were out on stage, you were going to have photo-ops and autographs, then you would join the boys in front of all the fans. You were excited for this weekend! You grabbed your phone, wallet, jacket and shoved them all into your bag with your Birkenstocks then headed downstairs. Jensen and Jared were just emerging through a swarm of fans that were not yet allowed into the huge ballroom where the convention was being held.

“Good morning, boys!” You smiled, giving each of them a hug.

“It’ll be a good morning when I can get this smell of car off me, we just drove for three hours to get here… normally I’d be used to this but it’s early and I’m tired.” Jensen chuckled, hugging you back.

“I told you guys that you should’ve come and spent the night at the hotel with me, but you refused.”

“Well, we had a nice dinner with our families.” Jared hugged you back as well.

“That’s nice, at least you got to spend some time with your families, despite the early rise. I’m heading to a coffee shop… want anything, you two?” You offered.

“Just the usual.” Jared winked.

You knew what that meant. A coffee and a muffin for each of them. Saturday went well. You couldn’t wait for the gold panel on Sunday with both Jared and Jensen. Those were your favourite panels. You were with your two best friends. After your photo-ops and autographs Sunday morning, you met up with the boys on stage. You took your seat between Jensen and Jared as the crowd cheered.

“Hey, Y’all!” You exclaimed into your microphone. “I think I’ve been in Texas for too long… I’m already starting to talk like one. It’s time for me to head back to Canada.”

The fans laughed at your little joke.

“Y’all need to tell Y/N that a Texan accent is better than that stinky Canadian one she got, eh?” Jared teased you.

The crowd giggled at Jared and his mix of Texan and Canadian accents.

“Agree to disagree, huh? Let’s start taking some questions!” You shot Jared a smile.

At about an hour into the panel, a fan asked you to send an inspirational message to her friend who was going through some rough times.

“Hi, Jocelyn, it’s Jensen, Jared and Y/N. Your friend Maria is thinking about you. All I can really say is that, and speaking from experience, things do get better. When I was a teenager, I went through something that was really hard on me. I was down in the dumps for nearly a year before I really started to feel like myself again. It takes time, but you’ll get there. Never lose hope and don’t be afraid to ask for help.”

“No matter what you’re going through, you need to remember that you are not alone,” Jensen added to your speech.

“And that you always need to keep fighting,” Jared added as well. “Life has a lot of ups and downs and ways of making us upset and hurt. But you’re stronger than those things.”

“Thanks, guys, This is going to mean a lot to Jocelyn.” Maria smiled.

“You’re welcome.” You said.

You began to think of what happened to you when you were just eighteen years old. Alone and scared, you vowed to never feel like that again.

Another fan spoke up, “I have a question for Jensen.”

“Shoot.” Jensen raised his microphone to his lips and then let it fall back into his lap once he was done speaking.

“Does it bother you that Danneel had an abortion?”

Jensen took a minute before answering, formulating an answer that wouldn’t get him in trouble.

“Of course not. She’s my wife and I support all her choices. Us as men- We as people have no right to tell another person what they can and cannot do with their body. As a husband, I love and support my wife unconditionally.” Jensen replied to the fan’s question.

“But it’s like murdering another person and that’s wrong.” The fan argued.

“It's a hard choice to have to make, but that doesn’t make it wrong. I stand by Dee.” Jensen said firmly.

“Just because someone has an abortion doesn’t mean they’re a murderer or a bad person. Some women are raped, some women have the possibility of passing genetic disorders along to their baby that would cause that child to have a low quality of life or could put the mother's life in danger. Not all women get abortions just because. We have reasons and those reasons are none of your damn business.” You started to tear up as you became more and more frustrated the more you talked.

Jensen and Jared both looked over at you. Jared instinctively started rubbing your shoulder when he saw that you were crying.

“The truth is…” You took a deep breath. “I wasn’t in a good place when I was a teenager. I was seventeen years old, in a bad relationship with very little parental support. My boyfriend at the time was older than me, had addictions to sex, alcohol, drugs and had a very sour personality. When I got pregnant at eighteen years old, I knew I couldn’t bring a child into the world where I was alone with a borderline abusive boyfriend. I wasn’t ready and I was scared. A few years ago, I found out that I’m a carrier for the genetic disorder Tay-Sachs. It is an autosomal recessive disorder that progressively destroys nerve cells causing the child to die at around the age of just five years old. Looking back on my decision to have an abortion, I realize that I made the right choice. Without knowing that I was a carrier and not knowing if my Ex was a carrier, made me run the risk of having a child who would’ve been handicapped and had a 100% chance of death at an extremely young age. I can’t bear to bring a child into this world knowing I could possibly be killing it.”

You wipe your tears and looked side to side at each Jensen and Jared.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you guys before.” You gulped.

“Don’t be sorry Y/N. You made the right choice for the safety of yourself and the child you were carrying.” Jared pulled you closer and gave you a tight squeeze.

“Thank you, guys.” You sniffed.

You had always believed that it wouldn’t have been right to bring a baby into the world when you knew you had the possibility of giving a genetic disorder that would kill it.

“I believe that a baby isn’t a punishment for sex. A baby is a choice, just like abortion is. People choose not to have kids all the time but they aren’t shamed for it. Because it’s a choice. People choose what’s best for them. And I chose what was best for me at that very moment.” You said confidently.

The crowd cheered and clapped in support of you. When it died down, a fan piped up.

“How did you find out you’re a carrier of Tay-Sachs?”

“My parents were young when they had me. When I was twenty-four, my mom was only thirty-nine, almost forty, and my parents had gotten pregnant again. She had a very difficult and high-risk pregnancy. When the baby was born, he was diagnosed with Tay-Sachs. Doctors suggested that I get tested for the fate of my future children. It was just my luck that I’m a carrier.”

“Is that why you don’t have kids?” The fan asked curiously.

“Part of the reason, yes.” You sniffed. “The other part is that I just don’t really want kids. My job means I have very little downtime and I can’t imagine being that far away from my baby for such a long time. I don’t know how Jared and Jensen do it, honestly, I don’t.” You explained.

It felt great to get that secret off your chest! It felt like a weight that was dragging you down and was finally released, making your load a lot lighter. Being pro-choice was one thing, actually accepting the fact that a loved one or yourself has had an abortion is a totally different ballpark. If you had a kid at the age of eighteen with the possibility of it having a fatal disorder- you wouldn’t be where you are today. You’d be a grieving mother who lost their kid, almost just like your mom, without your amazing job on Supernatural.

“My body, my choice and no one can change my opinion on that.” You announced.

The crowd cheered in agreement. You, Jensen and Jared all stood up on stage. The two boys pulled you into a hug.

“We’re so proud of you, Y/N.” Jensen kisses your forehead.

“You were so brave.” Jared pressed against the opposite side of your forehead.

“Thanks, you guys.” You sniffed and smiled.

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deltaengineering · 6 years

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Winter Anime 2019 Part 3: High on Concept

If you wait long enough, you’ll find something good to say.

Doukyonin wa Hiza, Tokidoki, Atama no Ue / My Roommate is a Cat

What: Misanthropic mystery author picks up tough stray cat, both get healed.

✅ The cat acts like a cat, the misanthrope acts like a misanthrope.

✅ The approach of telling the same simple story from the perspective of two characters that can’t really communicate effectively is interesting.

✅ This is very basic, but it works. I like both characters, and it's generally inoffensive. Pretty much Barakamon with less of a focus on telling you exactly what to feel. Might watch more of this.

❌ I see we’re now at the point where shows get localized titles that sound like lazy translations of bland Japanese names even when the Japanese title is not that bland to begin with. Lovely.

Dimension High School

What: A bunch of kids press XXX and YYY and are sucked. Wooow.

✅✅ The wraparound segments look extremely realistic. If there was more lensflares and shots of feet I’d almost say someone has finally beaten KyoAni in making anime look like a cheap, egregiously overacted J-Drama.

❌❌ Sadly, the puzzle dimension they end up in just looks like homemade MMD animation, because it is. I mean, at least it’s mocapped, but apparently with a Kinect.

❌❌ E.g., they make jokes about clipping and they kinda have to because everything clips into everything else all the time.

❌❌ Did I mention that all they actually do is solve lame puzzles and fail to be funny about it? It’s really getting to the levels of the dreaded “barely animated voice actor improv podcast” at these points.

♎ Suwabe’s in it, and that’s never an outright bad thing. He’s voicing the quizmaster, in the process proving he’d do anything for a paycheck. I wonder if he has a fiverr acocunt.

Domestic na Kanojo

What: Highschooler loses virginity to one night stand, finds out that it was the sister of the teacher he has a crush on. Incidentally, the mother of both also just married his father. Zany!

✅ This is presented like a low-key, slow drama, and it’s not even bad at that. Some good directing going on here, at least in the beginning.

❌❌ Really just too bad that it’s impossible to take seriously with a setup as contrived as this, not to mention taking it as seriously as it apparently wants to be taken. It’s also not exactly original.

❌ I’m not gonna say that sketchy relationships can’t work (it worked fine for KoiAme, for example), but embedding your suddenly also incestuous pupil-teacher affair in the setting of a harem comedy, complete with other sister walking in on attempted drunk blackout kiss, is not giving me confidence that this has the chops to pull it off.

❌❌ The show this reminds me the most of is Love and Lies, and that’s a real bad calling card to have.

Girly Air Force

What: Girl-shaped fighter jets fall in love with a dude.

❌❌ It’s just another military-hardware-is-cute-girls-actually show in the vein of Strike Witches, the kind where they think that having a few plane CG models is already thrilling content.

❌❌ But then it doesn’t even turn out to be that in practice, because most of the episode is taken up by lame “worldbuilding” (i.e., coming up with excuses for why your fanservice show has to be the way it is) and trying to make your bland harem lead interesting, which is a futile endeavour.

❌ The most interesting part is still the CG dogfighting, such as it is. It’s not great either. Also, girly planes are pink.

♎ Honestly got a laugh out of them randomly picking a Gripen as heroine unit in addition to actual JSADF hardware, because that’s a sleek-looking plane. The biggest prank the JSADF ever pulled on the otaku industry is buying the chubby F-35, which is nowhere to be seen here.

Go-toubun no Hanayome / The Quintessential Quintuplets

What: Empoverished highschooler is hired as a tutor for some rich quintuplets with large breasts.

❌ This is a blatant harem setup that would make a 2003 bishoujo VN blush.

✅ However, in practice it’s much better than it sounds. It knows it’s a wacky romcom with a dumb premise and it does not pretend otherwise.

✅ So it’s lighthearted, but it’s also surprisingly classy. In fact, it’s classier than Domestic no Kanojo, which is a show that’s actually trying to look respectable and failing.

✅ The relationships are also very feisty, with an energy that a comedy needs. There’s a lot of sass to go around here. Probably the best of these I’ve seen in a while, so I’ll give it three eps.

Kemurikusa

What: After getting pulled off the sequel, the Kemono Friends crew made their own version. Presumably there are blackjack and hookers in this show’s future.

❌ If you are a fan of KF’s “charms”, fear not, you would not be able to tell these people made another anime before. It's still total amateur hour.

❌❌ It’s not even the “looks”, though those certainly are not a highlight. The design is okay and the animation is bad, but I’m not incapable of enjoying shows with bad animation. What really kills it is the editing. I usually don’t comment on editing because that’s almost always competent and only very rarely great, but Kemurikusa has uniquely lazy and badly timed editing. Every shot being seconds longer than it needs to be is already an annoyance in low-key dialog scenes, but the alleged action is laughable and allows you a long, unblinking stare at every frame of bad animation. I really do wonder why they even bother with it when it’s so terrible.

✅ The setting seems alright, even though it’s just a reskinned Kemono Friends. At least it’s not gijinka nonsense this time (which makes one wonder where the gimmick characters are supposed to come from, but I digress), and it’s more upfront about what it actually is too. I’d call it mildly intriguing.

❌ I don’t mind mystery and certainly prefer it to exposition bombs, but instead of that this episode quickly establishes the most basic facts... and then repeats them over and over and over some more. Combined with non-editing, this makes for horrible pacing.

♎ I had no opinion on KF’s longer-term qualities, because the first episode was so boring I never got any further. I won’t have an opinion on this show’s long-term qualities for the same reason.

Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka

What: Magical girls are tragic, shoot gun’s.

❌❌ Yo bro, what if magical girls but dark? Surely such a thing has never been attempted.

❌ The particular source of grim here is that these girls are war vets and fight with semi-realistic weaponry, so there’s a fair bit of the ol’ milwank in this one as well.

❌ The best part of the entire show is that the enemies they originally fought looked like cute teddy bears. Of course, this is dropped in favor of just slicing and dicing some random terrorists in the main narrative. I guess “dark magical girl” is still too outlandish a concept, gotta go with ripping off The Punisher again.

❌ The characters so far are nothing special, you got your PTSD Rambo and the generically cute tomodachis she swears to protect. Such contrast!

❌❌ If you must make these 80s action movies with some otaku gimmick pasted on top, would you mind making the action look good at least? Because I don’t care how many gallons of blood you paint in your dramatic but conspicuously non-moving pans.

Meiji Tokyo Renka

What: Spiritually sensitive lonelygirl gets kitsuned to the Meiji era, which is full of delicious beef and some handsome men too I guess.

✅ This isn’t an outright comedy, but it goes all in on everyone’s fabulosity level to a degree that it’s really already three quarters to Dame x Prince.

✅ Similarly, the lead is not quite as unimpressed with these hams as Ani was, but she certainly has a lot more interest in roast beef than in these guys always trying to pull her into sparkly chin-holding poses &c.

✅ Meiji Tokyo Renka doesn’t seem to be anything special, but it gets the tone right and is expressive enough to not become boring.

♎ While certainly watchable right now, with these there’s always the chance that it decides to launch into real drama in the long run, which in turn almost always goes wrong.

Yakusoku no Neverland / The Promised Neverland

What: An orphanage’s happy daily life gets upended by the realisation that they’re just pizza rolls for some demonic entities.

✅ I watched this right after Kemurikusa and let me tell you, it sure helps if you’ve got professionals on the team. This is a highly competent show as far as cinematography and editing is concerned. While there isn’t any reason to go all out on the action sakuga, this show looks real good.

❌ I’m not feeling the character design, to be specific I think everyone’s chin is too big. This sounds like a real assholy nitpick, but be aware that this will impact around 90% of the time you watch this.

✅ The premise is workable for a shounen manga, even if hardly original (remember Owari no Seraph?) At least it’s not kids with superpowers spamming beams at each other while discussing the nature of heroism, and seems to be going for a more mindgames-based approach in the vein of Death Note. The characters are just barely good enough so far. In the end it’s not so much the premise, but how well the production values are able to sell it. And that’s what Neverland is good at.

❌ It’s specifically a Weekly Shounen Jump manga, and that is huge red flag. Sure enough, while the visuals and mood deliver, the dialog writing justifiably assumes the reader is a moron. Almost every line in this is either straight universe exposition or someone reading someone else’s character sheet back to them. It’s insane and not even necessary because their actions establish all of this just fine, but hey, WSJ readers amirite?

❌ Also, since it’s a successful WSJ property, don’t expect an ending or be prepared to watch this show for years. Most likely both.

♎ This seems like it could be entertaining once the exposition is out of the way and the real meat of the narrative starts. Then again, at that point pacing would come into play, which is yet another achilles heel of WSJ-style shounen manga. Against my better judgement, I’ll probably have a look how this develops, but I don’t expect much.

#anime #winter2019 #impressions #meiji tokyo renka #yakusoku no neverland #the promised neverland #Doukyonin wa Hiza Tokidoki Atama no Ue #My Roommate is a Cat #dimension high school #domestic na kanojo #girly air force #go-toubun no hanayome #the quintessential quintuplets #Magical Girl Spec-Ops Asuka

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