#the crowbar is purely intimidation

[cheezyhamster]

Delinquent Basil

Made 4 versions (with/without cel shading and with/without the bg) (rest under cut)

I think I'm finally getting a grip on phone drawing (computer is still my go-to though)

[kamscorn]

i would approach you but stay far enough that that crowbar cant reach me, it looks like its already done some damage to someone else

<- jumbo scissors!!! (they are purely for intimidation)

I WISH THIS TREND WAS MORE COMMON HERE SO IM STARTING ONE OKAY??!

[otakusheep15]

To make sure Raccoon!MC actually attends class Lucifer has Beel escort them. Which really just means he's carrying them by the back of their clothes like a kitten while holding Belphie on the other side. It worked pretty well until MC realized they could shimmy out of their jacket and escape to freedom.

Belphie has learned if he wants to stay warm at night the best way is to cuddle mc and hope they don't wake up. Honestly it's one of the few times he can cuddle them - generally they are too active and rarely stay in one place. He did learn the first time he tried to "hug" them that they will not hesitate to bite.

Diavolo has also woken up to mc sleeping on his bed. They weren't there when he went to sleep and he's not sure how they managed to get in without him waking up.

Barbatos has also been jumpscared by MC being in his room in the middle of the night. He doesn't know what they were doing. At least until the next morning when he found his gloves missing. If he does start keeping extra snacks around that MC just happens to like well he's going to deny it.

There's wild mass guessing going on with RAD's demon students that theorizes raccoon!mc steals from people they like the most. No one knows if it's true and MC finds it too funny to address.

Lucifer won't admit it but he does like seeing his brothers happier than they've been in centuries. He's also happy that raccoon!mc doesn't seem to be traumatized by Belphie's attempted unaliving of them. This is mainly because he doesn't know the whole story of what happened. Belphie refuses to admit that he beaten (literally) by a raccoon with a blessed crowbar. Was that the start of his crush? Maybe but it's too weird to admit out loud.

Lucifer is also praying for the day that the exchange program ends. Unless mc ends up staying forever. It's his worse nightmare to be honest. Though he wouldn't put it past Belphie or Diavolo to come up with some way of keeping them in devildom.

There's a debate going on at RAD on if raccoon!mc can comprehend and/or feel fear. No one really knows for sure but it would explain why they seem so unphased by everyone threatening to kill them. The other option is that they are purely fueled by spite and pettiness.

Karasu has seen an uptick in searches regarding 'How do I confess to a human,' 'How to raccoon proof your kitchen,' 'A five step guide to accepting that you are in love with an oblivious idiot.'

Though Mammon is intimidated by raccoon!mc he does appreciate all the times they've gotten him down from the ceiling. He's also noticed that he's been bothered less by witches but he doesn't know why.

Raccoon!MC doesn't know why either.

Barbatos is scared to look into the future and see if anyone wins over raccoon!mc. He's terrified he'll see himself as the winner. Please no anything but that.

Has Luke given MC a spray bottle full of holy water? Yes. Have they used it? The brothers refuse to talk about that.

Michael knows of MC's existence due to Luke's letters and would like to meet the human that's given Lucifer so much stress. Has he thought about having Raphael pick them up for a visit? Yes but he's also concerned that Raphael will in fact fist fight a human.

Beel has practically trained for this scenario. You think he works out just for show? Well, kind of, yes, but also for practical reasons. Namely, to carry the feral children to their destination in once piece. But apparently, even raccoon!mc has a brain and realized the hack of leaving through the jacket, so now Beel just throws them over his shoulder and hopes for the best.

Cuddle Bug Belphie over here is trying his best to hold mc for five minutes without them moving away from him and it's making him upset. All he wants to to cuddle with his very feral kind of-ish crush, but no, he has to actually work for it. Honestly, at this point, Belph will take whatever contact he can get, and if that includes biting, then so be it. He's come to accept his fate.

The only time anyone has ever caught mc being calm is when they're sleeping in Diavolo's bed. No one knows why, but it works really well. This fact makes Dia happy, but it makes literally everyone else even more stressed out as well, so is it really a win? Probably not.

Barbs will usually find mc in his room, but not in the same way Dia does. No, raccoon!mc will just stand it Barb's room in the dark of night and just stare off into space, and it's creepy as hell. Not much has been able to genuinely unnerve Barbs, but this certainly has. At this point, the snacks are more of a peace offering/sacrifice.

There are so many theories going around of mc, most started by the fanclub/cult. Some of the most popular include: mc steals from their favorite people most often, mc is actually an eldritch entity in disguise, and mc is actually just a mass hallucination. Can anyone confirm or deny and of these statements? No. Not even mc.

As much as they all hate to admit it, mc has really made all of the brothers very happy, and the "human" is definitely a bright spot in their lives. However, everyone is honestly concerned that mc was so quick to just gloss over the whole murder thing. Even worse is that they seemed to cling onto Belphie right away with zero hesitation. Is the bar really that low? In reality, mc just likes how easy it is to overpower Belphie with a crowbar. And Belphie seems to like it just as much for some weird reason.

Lucifer cannot wait to send the little rodent bastard home. As soft as he is for the little creature, the moment of peace when they leave will be so nice for him. But then he remembers that half the school population, including most of his brothers and Diavolo can and will find a way to keep mc here. Suddenly, Luci has a migraine coming on.

The amount of betting pools that have opened up for mc is concerning. The most recent one is if they can feel any emotions at all. So far, most have bet that they can feel emotions, but only the super chaotic ones. However they have confirmed that, yes, mc is fueled purely by spite, but also other mysterious forces they refuse to commentate about. What are they? We dunno.

Poor Karasu having to deal with this nonsense without any compensation. Oh how they wish they could just turn off their programming and have some peace again. But nope, it's too late, and they've seen some shit recently. The worst one so far is "How do I confess to a human who might also be a demonic raccoon without them biting and/or running off?"

Mc is a firm believer in in chaos, but even they have a soft spot. Though they won't admit it, they do feel bad watching Mammon take the fall for their thieving, so this is their way of helping. They untie Mams whenever Luci isn't watching, and they usually "take care of" the witches for him. What does mc do to ward them off? Father only knows what, but it's probably funny and/or terrifying. At this point, not even raccoon!mc knows what they're doing, but it works.

Does Barbs even want to win over mc? Maybe? Most likely not? At least they're good for keeping the rats out, so that would be a bonus. But he'd much rather leave it to the others at this point.

The first time mc used the spray bottle was by accident. Their hand just kinda slipped. But now they realized they have a very efficient weapon to use against demons. Luke regrets nothing. Simeon is on his last straw with this child, but is also secretly laughing in the background.

Raphael would 100% fistfight the human. It doesn't even matter if they did anything wrong, he still would. Michael is very tempted to just go down to the Devildom himself to kidnap meet mc, but even he knows how bad that would be in hindsight. Instead, he just asks Luke for regular updates here and there.

[stareyedmoonchild]

@dawnwave16​ hope you don’t mind, but I had to modify the dialogue a bit to fit the scenario. I hope you enjoy it.

Marinette knew things would end like this. Don’t ask her how she knew, because she wouldn’t be able to give a good enough answer other than, “It’s Gotham,” but here she was, running from the psychotic killer clown inside an abandoned warehouse.

Pause! You must be wondering what lead up to this. Well, allow me to indulge your curiosity.

It all began when Marinette’s parents where requested to cater at the New Year Charity Gala hosted by Bruce Wayne himself. Apparently he wanted the best, and from what he could gather it was them. He even offered to pay for the airfare and suite that they would be staying at for two weeks, their own kitchen too. With all this being offered, who were they to say no? Besides, it’s Bruce fucking Wayne. You must be out of your mind to say no to a man with that influence, well, unless you're Tony Stark. Now that man has denied almost every invite from Mr. Wayne, mainly because he would try to out shine Bruce with his own gala, but that’s besides the point.

Anyways, the point is they said yes, which lead them to them flying out to Gotham. 

“Now Marinette, while we are here try not to bring too much unwanted attention to yourself. This is the world’s most dangerous city, and we don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Her mother said, with a stern voice.

“That being said we came up with a list of Rules,” her father said, as he sat straighter in his seat looking her dead in the eye. 

“Do not talk to strangers,” Her mother began.

“Do not stay out past sunset,” her father followed. 

“Most of all if something doesn't feel right, you immediately head head back to the hotel.” 

“Try to avoid any and all confrontations”

By the time the plane landed, Marinette had more than a hundred rules to follow, and the worst thing was that she wouldn't even remember half of them.

"Maman, Papa, please, I'll be fine. Besides, how bad could the city be? It should be nothing compared to the akumas we face on a daily basis," Marinette reassured, but for some reason, she felt as if something was going to happen. Something that would go horribly wrong, and if she wasn't careful, it would be her life on the line.

If only she listened to that feeling.

Over the course of their stay, she was very diligent when it came to helping with the baking and decorating of various desserts. Her parents feeling as she deserved a break from the kitchen, told her to go outside and enjoy the city. Before she could argue, they were already pushing her out of the kitchen and out the door, saying, "be back by sunset."

With that, Marinette found her herself in the streets of Gotham. 

It was okay, she didn’t really stray too far from the building where her parents are working, and just sat outside at few tables that coffee shops set up, and drew.  However, that didn’t mean she didn’t notice the few looks and mutterings of passerby. 

“Excuse me.”

Turning her head to look behind her, she saw a boy about her age. He had this somewhat rich kid vibe, mainly because of the uniform he was wearing.

“Can I help you,” she asked, with near perfect English. 

‘Thank you for those lessons Adrien,’ she thought.

“I was wondering, could I take a picture with you,” seeing the her unsure look, he continued saying, “I know that it’s a weird question, but I feel like your going to be someone pretty soon, and I would like to one of the few who gets to say I met you before the fame. Hope that’s cool with you.”

“uh, okay,” Marinette said, still a bit unsure.

“Sweet,” He said excitedly.

He was quick about it. Wrapping a friendly arm around her shoulders, with a big grin on his face, as Marinette posed with a timid smile and peace sign. Soon enough there was a quick flash and the picture was done.

“Thanks,” he said, as he ran.

Marinette just stared at his vanishing form, and just shrugged it off. 

‘That was weird. Must be an American thing,’ she thought, going back to her drawing. If only she knew that the picture would be posted later that night, with the caption, “Possible new Wayne?” If only she knew that it would blow up. If only she knew that villains like to keep up with almost all topics about the Wayne family.

It was only on the fourth day of their stay, and Marinette wanted to get some fabrics for her families outfits for the Gala. when permission was granted she went to the nearest fabric shop, only to lose track of time. 

She’s so grounded after this. 

She turned into an alley, that Google said was a short cut. Holding the fabrics closer to her person, she began to feel as if something was following her. Something that had malicious intentions, and if she wasn’t careful, her life could very well be over. 

Marinette began to walk faster, and faster until eventually she found herself running. She didn’t even notice that she dropped her fabrics. Her heart was pounding in her ears, but when she heard it, the being that was her predator, the laugh that she only heard from countless videos from people who had close encounters with this person, it only got louder and faster. Her blood becoming ice in her veins, and by now she was running on pure adrenaline. If the sound on the video sent shivers down her spine, it was nothing compared to the real thing. 

That’s what lead her to where she is now, taking shelter in an abandoned warehouse, running from a killer clown. Fun.

‘Think brain, think,” she thought, looking round for a good place to hide so she could come up with a plan.

Her attention caught a corner were a good amount of boxes could, if arranged properly, hide her from plain sight. She got to work immediately, and by luck found a crowbar that she could use if he did by chance found her. 

Crouching within her box barricade, she slowed her breathing and gripped the crowbar so tight that her hands became white as snow. She was determined to survive this. 

Marinette listened to his footsteps, as he opened the closet on the other side of the room, and as he began to knock things over and rummage the room.

“”Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he said slowly, followed by a crazed laugh.

“I just want to make you laugh.”

He stopped in front of her barricade, and head the shift in fabric. She knew her hiding place would be compromised, so she prepared herself for to attack. Everything became slow motion then. 

Marinette burst out from within, with an upward swing to the clowns face. She didn't even give him time to recover from the first blow, she attacked head on and couldn’t stop herself even after he was down. Her mind was telling her that if she stopped for even a moment, her life would be in his mercy. It wasn’t until she felt strong arms wrap around her from behind, restraining her from attacking, the bloody beaten clown. She struggled within their grasp, ignoring the reassuring words coming from their mouth, before headbutting the the man who held her. 

Turning to face this new character, did she get a good look at what was happening around her. Two men were taking the clowns vitals, making sure he would live, the youngest informing them of police and medic’s arrival, the intimidating one in a black cowl, and the bloody crowbar still in her hands. 

Well, this was not a good picture to paint. Especial when you’re in front of four Gotham heroes. She was going to be in some deep shit when she got home. 

“Damn kid, what’s your head made of? Cement? Consider this the last time I take my helmet off as to not scare anyone further than what they are,” Red Hood asked, as he held his nose to stop the blood flow.

“Dude, you should know to use caution when dealing with someone who fight mode, rather than flight,” Nightwing said, as he and Red Robin let the medics take over.

“Yeah, yeah, but she was suppose to be the damsel in distress, right? You know harmless.”

“She was beating Joker to death with a crowbar,” Robin said.

“Still.”

Clearing her throat, Marinette caught their attention and said, “Hi. I was a damsel, I was in distress, I handled it. Have a good night.”

She threw the crowbar to the side, feeling somewhat badass. However, just before she was about to leave she realized she had no idea how to get back to the hotel.

Turning around sheepishly, she said, “Do any of you by chance know how to get to the hotel that Bruce Wayne owns on fifth street?” 

They all looked at Robin.

“Really?”

There was a moment of silence before, the boy sighed and walked toward her.

“Keep up and follow me.”

She smiled, waving goodbye to the other three heroes as she ran to catch up to the boy dressed in traffic light colors.

Bonus:

“So did you find out who she is,” Bruce asked, as Tim turned to face him.

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Damian’s age, French, and has parents,” He responded, stressing the last part.

Bruce merely hummed at that bit of information before taking a sip of his coffee. So what if she had parents? It never stopped him before, just ask Barbara. Marinette will become his daughter one way or another, and when that happens, Tony will have nothing on him.

Tim stared at Bruce, knowing full well what was going through his head. Guess it’s time to warn the others of what is to come.

Send a number!

[nvcl347]

Пустыня Аномалия, Человек в синем

The United States has fallen, but not every man in it has. Some have knelt before the Combine, others have knelt before sickness, many have knelt before themselves. The bomb of Black Mesa detonated the entirety of the facility leaving no ounce nor piece of metal to stay underneath the dishes of sand. However, site zero brought considerable interest to the space empire. The energy of the cascade is something they have yet to replicate, rummaging for each and any essence of it left from the extraordinary impact. 

Twelve miles, no closer. It was a warning they’d always heard, furthermore heeded. Ionizing radiation levels scatter the vacancy like tumors lingering within the desert. Years passing has brought these levels down to a certainty, however, in patches they remain lethal nonetheless.

A step in dust brought small gusts of particles every pace forward. They knew their safe distance from their father’s word, and they kept to it well for their own dignity. It wasn’t enough to prevent protection, however. The demron-mask paired with the makeshift suit proved conditions to turn terribly hot in short periods of time they strayed into the desert. Nonetheless, they’d rather die of heatstroke rather than cancer.

Their metal detector was the only thing that sparked their currency. A job of substantiation weighed on the luck of findings. Days of wandering the desert could bring riches just as much as they could bring nothing. It was the only way the small family could go under the radar of nearby Combine facilities.

Swift heaves of sand raced into their face as they swayed the tool left and right in front of them. Screeching spikes and sharp rests spotted the instrument as it picked up scattered signals of material always of no noteworthiness or significant value. It was a noise engraved into their brain so often they could spot patterns in places they went.

A huff, clenching grip nearly ceased them into place as a trickle of sweat traced down the side of their forehead. The heat was already getting to them where it would best, but that didn’t hinder them from their search. They had faced worse conditions previously.

With furrowed brows, they walked forward in shuffled feet. The detector did its job without resistance, as had they. A discovery for something was dire. They had found nothing but nails made of aluminum and a few copper gears as worthful as they sound. It was barely enough to suffice a few days’ merits of harrowingly-tasting food. A meal one could consider satisfying felt like all but a fever dream to them.

Then, that high pitched tone appeared.

They stopped dead in their tracks, almost as if they made sure they weren’t hallucinating. Their gaze snapped to the depth meter on the screen, turning it slightly to angle out the sun’s beaming glare. Steel, just a few feet below. They laughed to themselves out of shock, pulling their shovel off the cross of their back. It was one of the few tools they hadn’t sold in exchange for currency to supply their family.

They gently rested the metal detector over the spiking point to get a range of their digging space, preserving whatever valuable object may have been concealed underneath. Resting the tool far off to the side, they positioned their shovel into the sand ever so slightly. They pressed their foot against one side of the metal plate, digging the spade deep within the tiny tan particles underneath with ease. The deeper in range, the denser the pockets sand became. 

Hurling winds rushed more clouds of sand into their face, their eyes protected by the mask, however hindering their progress of discovery for the object which had been found. Gritted teeth resisted their provoked sight, continuing to haul the pounds of sand away from the site.

A clash of two metals ceased them in their tracks. The clanking noise nearly made their heart stop, pausing in place. Rough, tough, and most importantly, valuable.

They tossed their shovel to the side in pure ambition in seeking what the detector had identified. Brushing thin layers of sand with their hands, they came across a streak of, red? They dug further across, finding this object to be quite long until they reached a hooked end. Gripping the object by its round curvature, they hoisted it from the ground. Sand spilled from its ends like brief gushing waterfalls.

No less than a foot and a half worth of steel, admittedly quite heavy. Panting from the daunting temperatures and draining endeavors, they studied the metal device in question. They had found plates and sprockets before, but an in-tact tool and possible weapon? In days such as then, it was precious like a pot of gold. Winds halted their rushing gusts ever so suddenly.

“That is, government property, you are holding my dear.”

They shot up with overwhelming haste, skimming the area with jumped adrenaline they had not felt for quite some time.

“W-what?” They stuttered over sheer surprise. Had they been caught? What was a unit doing out this far from the facility?

“The… crowbar, Mx. (Y/N).” The entity made himself visible meters afar from their position. Tucked in blue, he was dressed in attire in no way suitable for an environment such as this. Their mind scurried in confusion, trying to understand who it was which they were looking at.

“How do you know my name?” They gripped the crowbar with their two hands in defense, standing still and stiff in place.

“I know many names, as I know many, things.” His cryptic, strangely paced speech toyed with their head. They took a step back away from the man, breathing a long take of air through their mask.

“Are you telling me you’re supposed to be God or something?” They swallowed harshly, feeling more questions spark from the man’s replies than he had answered. The heavy effects of warm temperature from the desert swayed from their train of thought entirely as they were encapsulated by the presence of this abnormal, foreign being.

“I am not.” His head bowed into place, fixing the cuffs of his suit. Patience with talk was nothing to a man who had no bother with the tolls of time to begin with.

“Then what the hell are you?” They raised the heavy crowbar closer to their chest, hanging their head to the side.

“What I am is not of your... concern.” They nearly groaned out loud in agitation at the lack of information the man provided to them. His aura felt as if it was a mystery in and of itself.

“The mask is not necessary.” He bent the content of their discussion with haste, leaning back with relaxed shoulders. His words took them by surprise, feeling a sense of manipulation, however deciding to go along with the conversation he brought nevertheless.

“I’m sorry? Do you have any idea what will happen if I take this off?”

"You will endure no short of what you are, anticipated, to do as such.”  The man brought forth a device from nothing into the palm of his hand, raising it forth and levitating it across to where they stood. Watching in raving awe at his actions, they nearly fell at their knees towards what they viewed before themselves.

Taking the device into their own hands, they brushed at the dust formed over their mask to see clearly what they were staring at: A roentgen meter.

1.4? That’s not possible… the blast-

“You confide to your father’s word quite emph-atically.” The man cut off their internal collectivity as if he had eavesdropped into their own mind.

“However, I would... advise you to take other such sources into consideration, hm?”

Feeling a strong sense of being outsmarted, they lowered the crowbar to their side with a strong clutch as they seated the roentgen meter into the sand below . They clicked the snares away from their neck, releasing the demron mask from its tight, secure grip on their throat. The air of the desert was quick in its way to rush into the pockets which formulated the instant the mask was opened. Tearing the protective gear away from their face with one hand, they gasped slowly as the fresh oxygen around them flowed across their face. They patted away at the streams of sweat that had drained through their eyebrows and down their cheeks. The man was granted a clear view of the profile of their frizzy hair and red face, grinning only somewhat to their presentation.

Rushed with the energy of intimidation from the man’s anomalous grasp of knowledge, they strained the subject to a stronger matter that continued to linger within their mind.

“You look like a guy who has money in his pocket. What is it with you and this?” They leaned the crowbar carefully forward, presenting the bulk of metal before themselves as the mask was carelessly tossed away.

“Any man can forge a rod of alloy. Not many can forge a symbol of resistance.” The man slightly hissed at his words, trailing unusual intervals in his speech as he crossing his arms at his back in insouciance. His words took them back, staring at the metal tool for a few moments in awe.

“A symbol? I don’t understand. If this is so important I don’t see why it should be out in the middle of the desert in the first place.” Their gaze tightened together, peering back to the man in blue.

“You stand correct.” He provided himself to a tender step forward in his sleek Oxfords, to which they were quick to jump back.

“Hey! Don’t get any closer!” They shouted in a twisted toil of defense and dread, weighing the crowbar to their shoulder alike to a baseball bat preparing to swing the round of their life. Another foot back carried a major fraction of mass on their body as they held fast to their stance.

The man nearly laughed to himself at the sensitive action they displayed before him, fixing the lapels of his suit without a hint of threat coursing through him by any means. Primitive, to say the least.

“I’m afraid, you are not one to dictate such... matters.” 

They froze up in place. The man they looked to did not say that, no, not in front of them he did. Their jaw clenched into place, stiffening every muscle in their limbs. From frozen solid, they swung the round of their life towards behind themselves.

Seized short mid-swing.

The bar had made perfect contact with the man’s palm, standing presently behind them without forewarning. He held his grip sternly onto the metal without a budge sensing it could be released. Not a flinch, nor a recoil manifested in his carriage. His eyes blistered a dreadful glow straight through their own. It was a gaze so intent their guts melted away into water. Their grip on the crimson crowbar naturally released itself as they finally became self-aware to their ludicrously small frame in contrast to his overarching, slim build.

“I have already comp-ensated interest in regards to your family.” His resonance became astonishingly low in comparison to how he spoke once before.

“Run along, Mx. (Y/N). We have things to be.” From those words, an entirely distinct impression came to their head. Not from them, not from their instincts- it was something else. It was not out of fear alone; rather it was of command.

Their grip slipped from the metal handle like a knife through butter, darting across the desert in the direction of their home. Without a hint of consideration, they abandoned their metal detector and their demron mask to the possession of the wistful sands. Their heart raced faster than they could pant, paying no hindrance to the swelling heat of the air around them. From a distance, the man turned and observed their track from afar until they were all but an evident speck in the horizon of spinning dust. He would have taken them for detainment had they understood what they briefly possessed in their hands.

For a moment, he turned to study the crowbar for himself as a white gateway slid open before him. He hummed in consideration, stepping through the door to another plane of time. There was much work to be done.

[fanficimagery]

Tops Dogs

#144 "Well that's pretty rude of you to say."

Summary: When the Alexandrians are on their knees and waiting to see which one of them is to be sentenced to death by Negan, an entirely new group steps in and changes everyone's view on just who the true top dogs are out in the new world. SEASON 7 AU. Modern!100 AU.

Fear.

Pure, unadulterated fear courses through his veins and all Rick can think about is how this is all his fault. As his friends and family are forced to their knees, all he can really pray for is that his son lives and everything's done and over with soon so they can get Maggie the help she needs before it's too late.

"All right!" One of the people who’s captured them gloats. "We got a full boat. Lets meet the man." The same man walks up to a dusty RV and knocks twice on the door.

The seconds seem to stretch on as they wait, many of Rick's group shivering in either fear or pain. He knows now that they're in way over their head, that Gregory had led them to believe they actually had a chance against Negan. But boy were they wrong.

So, so wrong.

The RV door creaks open and a man steps out. It's too dark to really see him, but Rick can make out that the man is gripping a bat in hand while letting it lean against his shoulder. "Pissing our pants yet?" He asks. No one utters a word and the man starts walking forward into the light. Fitted jeans, a black leather jacket, and a red scarf wrapping around his neck is what makes up the man that supposedly everyone fears. "Boy, do I have a feeling we're getting close." He walks towards Eugene, smiling all the while and starts walking down the line of kneeling individuals. "Yep. It's gonna be pee-pee pants city here real soon. Which one of you pricks is the leader?"

Lexa's leaning against the door to the cafeteria, watching on as her people are served up their rations for dinner. It's been a peaceful week so far, so it's not really a surprise when one of her best scavengers comes up to her with news.

"Negan's men are hunting," Octavia murmurs quietly as she sidles up to Lexa's side. She makes sure to keep her gaze straight ahead, all weapons sheathed and arms at ease at her sides. "They've crossed the perimeter into our territory and appear to be circling a smaller group from the Alexandria community."

Lexa's jaw clenches, but makes no move to look at the younger girl. "Is Negan with them?"

"We're not sure, but that ugly RV of his was spotted driving around. It's parked now. In our territory as well."

Lexa finally glances at the younger girl, taking in her coal smeared eyes and leather jacket adorned with buckles and straps. Her hair is pulled back in what everyone started to call grounder!fashion, the sides braided back to a certain point and then tied off to hang loosely down her back. "Give me five minutes. Go and gather a group, and then tell Indra she's in charge while I'm away. We're going to crash a party."

Octavia can only grin in response, she tersely nodding once while rushing off to do what she was told.

In her room, Lexa merely pulls on a jacket over her shirt since the rest of her attire is appropriate for an outing. Then above the jacket, she pulls on a one-shoulder shoulder pad that straps across her chest and then clasps a red sash from the right side of her chest to droop down to her left hip. Her hair is already pulled back and after sheathing a sword at the right side of her hip, she paints coal across her eyes and then smears a few lines down her cheeks. A little metal, gear-like decal is placed between her brows and she's ready- ready to break up Negan's little hunting party and remind the man that he's not all he tries to be.

     - X - X - X - 

Hidden in the shadows with half her fighters hidden high up in the trees, Lexa watches on in disgust as an utterly exhausted group of men and women, and what appears to be one teenager, are forced to their knees in a semi-circle. Negan's men are crowded behind the group's back, all armed with long rifles and smaller handguns holstered at their waists, and holding either pipes or crowbars. Vehicles circle the entirety of the group, their headlights turned on and spotlighting the group from Alexandria.

Negan does make his grand entrance, complete in his leather jacket, red scarf and barbed wire wrapped bat, he ranting on and on about how he does not appreciate Rick killing his people or that Rick and his people killed more of Negan's people when Negan sent in more men to kill Rick's people for killing his people. It's all one big cluster-fuck and Lexa nearly feels bad for the people that earned Negan's ire.

One woman in Rick's group looks to be in dire need of help and it grates on Lexa's nerves when Negan promises that they're going to regret crossing him in a few minutes. She knows how the man works, knows how cowardly he truly is, but they've set their borders on their own claimed territory and stayed off each other's toes.

Until now, that is.

Not only has Negan trespassed, but he's trespassed with the intent to kill. And while Lexa does not know a single face in Rick's group, she's not about to sit back and let Negan slaughter someone in her own backyard.

Negan, of course, demands that Rick and his people give him their shit. This is another thing that grates on her nerves, this self-proclaimed bad ass scavenging from other communities by threatening to kill them if they don't cough up what they fought for. For being a very capable man with very capable men and women at his compound, they choose to take food and other necessary items from groups who worked hard to get it themselves, and that is not okay with Lexa. It's cowardly and pathetic, and she's nearly salivating at the idea of putting the man in his place in front of his current victims.

"I don't want to kill you people. Just want to make that clear from the get-go," Negan says. "I want you to work for me. You can't do that if you're dead, now, can you?"

Rick violently shivers, from both the cooling sweat on his skin and the fear gripping his entire being as he listens to what their lives are going to be like now.

"But you killed my people, a whole damn lot of them," Negan seethes. "More than I'm comfortable with. And for that, for that you're gonna pay." He pauses in his overly long speech and Rick bristles as he hears Maggie whimper. He looks down the line to Daryl and watches as his brother bravely glares up at the one threatening them. "So now... I'm gonna beat the holy hell outta one of you," Negan says as if it were no big deal to take a life.

And if the stories were to be believed, which they are, then Negan was the ultimate big bad and what he's just said was no bluff. 

The gathered Alexandrian's can only watch on as the man taunts them, beaten and utterly exhausted, a bat wrapped with barbed wire leaning against his shoulder as Negan slowly paces before them.

Crickets continue chirp, twigs snap, and leaves rustle, but no one seems to pay it any attention. Negan continues to take his time to size up Rick and his people, and then..

"I'm sorry, but what was that?" A new voice, feminine from the sounds of it, asks. Rick and a few of his people's gazes are immediately drawn to the decent sized group that's crept up on them, a woman with war paint across her eyes and apparently dressed for a battle of sorts now standing just to the left of Negan’s RV. Even the group of men behind her are dressed similar, some of their faces painted as an intimidation tactic. "Who are you going to beat the holy hell out of?"

Negan freezes for a brief second, anger suddenly blazing in his eyes as his grip tightens around his bat. A false smile stretches from ear to ear as he whirls around. "Lexa, my girl, how are you on this wondrous night?"

"Cut the shit, Negan," she says. "You're in my territory and you know how I feel about you and your little merry band of cowards playing this bullshit game."

Negan's men all bristle, muttering swear words as the one Negan called Lexa smirks, and Negan narrows his eyes in anger. “Well that’s pretty rude of you to say.” 

Several guns can be heard being cocked, but all Lexa has to do is whistle and then another group- this one at least thirty or so large- is stepping forward from the shadows on the other side of the RV. The female leading the second group is all swagger and nonchalance, and the men behind her are covered in furs, paint and masks which makes them at least 10X scarier than Negan and his own men. 

"You and I already know how this is going to end, Negan. You're in my territory now and my people greatly outnumber you and yours." He scoffs at Lexa's words, eyeing those standing with her. Even to Rick's gaze Negan's group still looks just a little bit larger, but Lexa whistles again and Negan's back to scowling. Because not only does Lexa have men and women on the ground, but if the little fires suddenly dotting up high in the trees is anything to go by, then she also has people waiting to strike from up high. "Leave now," she threatens, "or I'll drive my sword through your heart and string up your corpse as a warning to those left at the Sanctuary."

Negan's lip curls, but as the seconds slowly tick by he eventually glances over his shoulder and nods tersely to his men. Surprisingly, the wall of men at Rick and his people's backs step away, drop the weapons they had stripped from the Alexandrians, and start climbing back into and onto their modes of transportation. Then glancing back at Lexa, Negan mockingly curtsies. "As you wish, Commander."

Negan shoulders his bat once more and then casts a glare at Rick. "Remember. You work for me now."

Rick gulps, but it's Lexa who pipes up. "Actually, they don't. If you want food, clothing, furniture and medicine, then why don't you put on your big boy pants and fetch it yourself like the rest of us."

"You're skating on thin ice, girl," he chuckles darkly while slowly turning back towards her. "They owe me. You clearly missed my speech about the crimes they've committed against me and since I'm not bashin' in any skulls tonight.." He trails off, shrugging.

"Oh, no. I heard," she assures him. "I just don't care. Alexandria is neutral ground, but since you brought your hunting party into my lands, I'm stepping in now. You will leave them alone or you'll deal with the Coalition."

Negan's lips twist into a snarl as his face darkens. "This isn't over."

"I didn't expect it to be."

As Negan barks at his men to roll out, he stomps back towards his RV and slams the door behind him. It takes a couple of minutes for the RV, trucks and motorcycles to finally leave the woods, but they eventually do and everyone just kind of breathes in relief. But having been left with a far larger and more intimidating group, Rick remains on his knees, watching cautiously as Lexa starts to make her way towards them.

Glenn scrambles over to Maggie who's looking far worse than she did earlier, and Rick mentally scolds him for the action because he's not sure how this new group is going to react to them.

"I am not a monster nor royalty," Lexa says calmly with a small grin. "You can get off your knees now." She holds a hand out to him and Rick hesitantly takes it as she pulls him to his feet. She tries to help up Sasha, but the dark skinned woman refuses and climbs up on her own.

Lexa's attention then turns to Maggie and Glenn huddled on the forest ground, he mumbling soothing words in her ear. Rick watches as the woman frowns and crouches in front of them. Abraham, the surly redhead, tries to intervene, but Rick shakes his head at his friend. "What's the problem?" Lexa asks.

Glenn glances at her, worry glinting in his eyes. "S-she's pregnant," he blurts, "and in an extreme amount of pain. We don't know what's wrong."

Lexa reaches forward and places a hand on Maggie's damp forehead, she shushing and cooing when Maggie tries to pull away. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Maggie continues to whimper and tremble, and Lexa's frown deepens. "She needs immediate attention."

Rick clears his throat as his group gathers around, casting cautionary glances towards Lexa's people still lingering by the treeline. "We were on our way to Hilltop when Negan's men started to corral us here. Hilltop has a doctor there that's helped Maggie before."

"I know the community in which you speak of," she tells him. "Unfortunately, if you wish to save the baby, she won't make it as far as Hilltop."

Glenn looks absolutely torn and terrified as Maggie starts to sob, he looking up at Lexa. "Please help us. I'll do- I'll do anything."

Rick's gut clenches at the obvious desperation, but is quite surprised to see Lexa nod. "Polis, our community, is a lot closer. You all," she says, glancing briefly at everyone lingering around, "look like you need some aide in one form or another." Then glancing back at Glenn, she says, "If you will permit it, one of my men will carry her. We are not injured nor are we exhausted, so there's little to no chance of us jostling her too much or putting her in further pain."

"Y-yeah. That's fine." He glances down at Maggie, pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "You hear that, Maggie? We're gonna get you some help, but they're going to have to carry you. It's going to be alright."

She weakly nods and mumbles out a thank you between cries, and then Lexa's standing and facing her people. "Lincoln. We're in need of your strength." A dark skinned man steps forward from behind the only other woman, at least Rick thinks there's only two women since everyone else is covered up, his clothing covered in mud as two dark streaks of war paint are painted down over his eyes from his forehead to his cheeks. Once he's standing next to Lexa, she gestures downward and says, "This is Maggie. She's with child and needs immediate attention from our home."

Lincoln nods before crouching down, but doesn't make a move towards Maggie since Glenn's staring at him in awe and/or fear. "Don't worry," Lexa grins. "Lincoln's a gentle giant. Your lady friend will be perfectly safe with him."

"S-she's my wife," Glenn automatically corrects, he then hesitantly and cautiously handing Maggie over to Lincoln. The painted man gets her situated fairly easy in his arms, he standing and then turning to stride back towards his people.

"Come," Lexa tells them. "To Polis we go."

[awake-my-oceans]

More points for your consideration:

—Conan and Black Org members having a weird solidarity over being Very Cross about being little. This goes…….weirdly far. They can and will try to kill each other, but they will absolutely pause ”off duty” to trade snide commentary and cause problems for the adults.

—Sherry being well and truly done with the Organization manifested less as “time to remove myself from the equation“ and more as “how much crippling chaos can I generate“ which took approximately twenty five minutes to translate into “can I get this poison to trigger de-aging for everyone instead of for a weird subclass?” She’s the only one who wanted to be a child. Everyone else is Suffering.

—A “child” pulls a gun on a KID heist

KID, who’s already got used to Conan: ah right one of you cocoons person in glitter duct tape

“wow you’re so prepared for serial killers!” “for what now”

—KID actually takes a bit to catch on purely because he’s Accepted that Conan is like that and thus it takes a bit for his “weird” sensor to ping at all these six year olds

—the Detective Boys go on a (very unsanctioned) undercover mission into the Black Org. Their main strengths are that 1) they watched Conan and Ai to learn how to handle guns and be Intimidating and 2) everyone chalks up legitimately childish behavior to good acting. They get……��disturbingly far.

—KID, somewhat hysterically, knee deep in six years: how am I the youngest person here???

Conan: I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that if you help me rig this trap

KID: done and done hand me the crowbar

detco au where almost every important black org member accidentally took the apotoxin by accident (maybe at some crazy party they had going on the night after kudou shinichi died. like fuck yeah we got one of those detectives, time to party. maybe shiho tries to poison them all and it just turns out /: they all have the same let’s shrink gene). 

everything in detco is the same except every time a BO member turns up they’re just like,, 6 years old. just imagine every single black org scene in detective conan except the evil monologues are being done by 6 year olds pointing guns at people. 

KID must have been like wHAT EXcUSE me??? WHAT IS WITH THE DRAMA IN THE TODDLER COMMUNITY???? when conan asks for a favour and 6 year old amuro tooru ends up pointing a gun at KID and talking evily to him. like,, to an outsiders pov this is all extremely dramatic child on child violence. 

i will expand on this,, at some point. who is bourbon except shinichi immediately knows cause haibara’s like yeah i fucked up all the org members before leaving so if u see any suspicious 6 year olds run the other fucking way.

[paperhats-and-evil-schemes]

hello yes it is i the nosy anon, heard you were working on a fic and is thirsty for snips so it has summoned me 👀 👀 👀

BAHAHAHA, HELLO FRIEND, IT’S BEEN A WHILE XD

HERE U GO U THIRSTY LIL SCAMP, SORRY IT TOOK ME FOREVER, I DIDN’T KNOW WHICH PART TO USE

————

"He's not going to cooperate." The taller one spat in annoyance, swaying his crowbar from side to side as he readied another swing. Flug was still trying to get his breath back from the first blow; he doubted he could take another one very well. He forced himself to shuffle back, only to get stuck cornered between a dumpster and alley wall.

Well, fuck.

"I-I told you already, I'm d-doing everything I can--"

"No you're fuckin' not!" The first one -Judas, Flug seemed to call him- shouted in anger. With a snap of his fingers, the lackey with the crowbar took his second swing. Flug barely managed to duck out of the way again, a deafening crack sounding from above him as metal met concrete.

Maybe the doctor should be a little more worried about this situation, but spending all his days with a nightmare-inducing creature of pure horrors seems to have given him a bit of spine, because he's just getting more annoyed than anything at this point. "Y-You know, killing the people you want things from i-isn't a great way to go about getting those things, you walking cliché..." He muttered under breath in his annoyance. Aaand regretted it almost immediately.

At first, the lead ruffian looked about ready to let his underlings crack Flug's head into the ground. But then he chuckled, beard bouncing up and down. "Y'know what, you's prob'ly right." Judas held out his arms in inquiry, looking side to side at his men. "Mebbe we should jus' follow him home, eh? Meet the doc's boss himself and take it up with 'im?" The others joined in a chorus of sneering laughs. That got Flug to stiffen up.

"N-No way. I-I'm not going t-to just l-lead you an-annoyances to h-him..." That little flicker of sass he had a second ago was quickly fleeting, but like hell he was going to give in now and bother Black Hat with this bullshit. Just thinking about him finding out about this made him shudder more than these jokers ever could.

"Ooo, s'at right, tough guy?" Judas taunted, lifting Flug by his shirt. That's fine. He's used to that. "Sounds like yer boss is a real important guy. I really think we should pay him a visit - I bet he'll be a bit more reasonable... after some persuasion, of course." Oh man, the urge for Flug to roll his eyes at that empty threat was strong, but he managed to resist it. Better not push his luck, considering the circumstances.

"So, lemme put this straight for you, Fluggy boy...." The brute growled, "You're gonna take us to yer superior so we can clear all this up, or I break every bone in your pathetic little body--"

"Oh come on now, I doubt you even know how many bones there are in the human body."

The voice came out of nowhere. Everyone jumped, immediately looking around for the source. Flug's stomach knotted in recognition of that voice. "M-Mr. Black Hat....!?" He stammered in shock.

"Black Hat!?" Judas repeated, equally as shocked, dropping Flug and stepping back.

"Oh, splendid! I don't need to introduce myself!" A loud crash startled everyone enough to get another jump out of them. Black Hat had seemed to fall out of thin air atop the rusty dumpster, then gracefully jumping down to the ground between his employee and the crowbar lackey, smiling wider than the ocean. "And I see you've met my dear doctor..." Not taking his grinning gaze off Judas, one swing of his cane knocked the crowbar out of the lackey's hands, and it disappeared in a burst of green flames upon hitting the ground. Satisfied with the intimidated looks he was getting, Black Hat leaned forwards on his cane, fangs and eyes glowing in the shadows. "So what was it you were saying there, dear sir? You had some persuading to do of me?"

Not so talkative now, were they. The little hooligan hive-mind seemed at a loss for words, and my oh my, what delicious waves of terror came from the pathetic little things. Black Hat stood up straight, swung his cane over his shoulder, and quite casually strode towards the speechless Judas.

"Don't kill us...!" The ringleader begged, voice quivering, "We didn't know the guy worked fer you....!"

"Kill you?" A good-humored laugh erupted from the villain. Flug could tell it was fake. "Why, you're in luck, my dear little human!" He swirled around Judas like smoke, sweeping up behind him and slinging an arm around his shoulder, startling him. "You see, under normal circumstances..." Black Hat hissed in his ear, "... I'd have been very unforgiving about the damage you've done to my property." Just has suddenly as he had drawn near, Black Hat slipped away from his target, standing in front of him again with that shit-eating grin. "But you know what? Your services could be of use to me. It might be worthwhile to have connections of your sort around." Grinning wider, he extended a hand to shake. "So, my 'good' sir, what do you say? Willing to offer your services to a humble old businessman every now and then?"

Judas looked left and right, exchanging confused glances with his men. The demon chuckled to himself - he could tell what they were thinking. That's a better arrangement than getting slaughtered.

After promptly swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat, Judas stepped forwards. Very hesitantly, he shook the other's hand.

There was a sickening crunch, followed by a shriek of pain that near made Flug's ears bleed.

"206 bones in the human body." Black Hat stated calmly as he crushed the human's hand in his own. That fake good humor that he'd been charading was quickly melting away to reveal a twisted, sadistic gleam in his eye. Yanking Judas forwards and leaving barely any space between them, his grip only tightened, sparking even more disgustingly painful noises. "27 of which are located in the hand." Black purred, tone thick with malice. His eyes then narrowed, and the purr turned into a snarl. "And unlike you, I can crush each and every one into dust, one by one, as if they were chalk. If you or your whelps ever come near my scientist again, you will have far worse than broken bones to worry about."

Point having been made, Black Hat finally let the whimpering brute go. Tail between legs, he and his pack scampered off as fast as they could - oh, but they weren't getting off that easily. Each move a casual wisp, Black Hat held up his cane, looking down it as if aiming a rifle. "Pleasure doing business with you."

A deafening burst broke the air, sizzling green magic shooting from the end of his cane and connecting with the head of the lout that had hit Flug. There wasn't even a scream as his body was enveloped in an emerald blaze, not even leaving ash behind as he was scorched out of existence.

If they weren't going as fast as humanely possible before, they sure were now. Black Hat chuckled to himself, soaking in the last few moments of raw terror he had gotten from them before they turned a corner and fell out of sight.

Now there was only one source of fear. A kind of fear that those brutes hadn't once stricken in the scientist. Good. Only Black Hat is allowed to strike that kind of fear in Flug. And on that note...

"Oh Flug, Flug, Flug.... I'm so disappointed." Black Hat turned around slowly, mild disdain written across his features. Flug, aside from getting to his feet, hadn't moved an inch; he just stood there, dead silent and anxiety-filled gaze glued to his boss. The demon walked over with a 'tsk tsk tsk', as if he were scolding a child. "I thought we had a real understanding, you know? I thought we were on the same page!" Backing Flug firmly against the wall, his eyes narrowed to slits. "I mean really. You should know by now that I despise being lied to."

"I-I-I d-didn't l-l-lie, s-sir--"

"You may as well have." The eldritch snapped with sudden fierceness, shutting the smaller man up instantly. But it was like a switch - the very next second, that anger was again replaced with that chiding look from before. His head tilted to the side, and he drew his cane up, using it to lift Flug's chin. "So tell me, doctor..... what else have you been keeping from me?"

[aion-rsa]

Joker: DC Comics Reading Order - The Best Stories With the Clown Prince of Crime

https://ift.tt/2p9e28Y

Has the Joker movie inspired you to read some comics? We've got some suggestions!

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The Joker is the most recognizable villain in all of comics, and as such, there are as many takes on him as there are creators who have worked on a Batman comic. Fortunately for us, for every Jared Leto out there, there are fifteen awesome comic stories. So if you’re coming out of the Joker movie with a thirst for more good, thoughtful, interesting stories using the Clown Prince of Crime, we’ve got some comics for you.

Batman: The Killing Joke

This is probably the most influential Joker story of all time. Alan Moore’s dense psychoanalysis of the Joker is formative to just about every writer who came afterwards, and Brian Bolland’s stunningly gorgeous pencils combined with John Higgins perfect colors to create an eerie, dark, vicious story that has become the generally accepted origin for the character.

read more: The Many Joker Origin Stories Explained

The story bounces back and forth between showing how an unnamed, down on his luck schmo got wrapped up in a heist that ended with him at the bottom of a pool of chemicals, and showing that schmo, now a criminal mastermind, kidnapping Commissioner Gordon and trying to drive him to the same kind of mental break that the story implies is at fault for the Joker’s creation. It’s the first one to really draw strong parallels between the Joker’s mental state and Batman’s, casting the two of them as two possible outcomes to the same break.

And did I mention it’s incredible to look at? Whether you’re a comics scholar or new to the medium, I can almost guarantee you’ve seen that cover, with the Joker holding a camera sideways in front of his face telling you to smile. 

Buy Batman: The Killing Joke on Amazon

Batman: The Man Who Laughs

Ed Brubaker isn’t often talked about as a seminal Batman writer, but he’s defined entire swaths of Batman’s world over his career, and The Man Who Laughs is a big one. This book, drawn by the great Doug Mahnke, takes a look at the Joker’s first interaction with Batman. He’s poisoning people all over Gotham City, and he has a plan to poison the reservoir. Batman works to stop him.

It’s a much more straightforward, less avant-garde Joker than he can get in later times, but the story is told with a modern sensibility and outstanding art from Mahnke. Brubaker (and Greg Rucka, who we’ll talk about in a few) writes detective Batman as well or better than anyone in a generation, and The Man Who Laughs is full of really great detective work with Bruce piecing together who the Joker is and what he’s trying to do. And the fight sequence at the end of the issue is good, classic, straight up Batman/Joker brawling. If you want a way to ease into Joker stories, this is a great one.

Buy Batman: The Man Who Laughs on Amazon

The Joker’s Five-Way Revenge

It’s not often an entire character can be distilled down to a single panel of comics, but Neal Adams effectively did that in Batman #251. Adams is a tremendous artist who changed the entire industry with his panel layouts and action sequences, but the Joker’s “ta daa!” hands and his smile next to a bearing down shark as he says “We resemble each other!” is incredible.

read more: What the Joker Controversy Gets Wrong

This one-off story has the Joker breaking out of a pre-Arkham Asylum mental hospital, hunting down the five ex-henchmen who might have betrayed him to put him away. Only one of them did, but he’s covering his bases, and the issue ends with a wheelchair-bound ex-aide precariously balanced over a tank with an angry shark in it. Batman gets dropped in and has to beat the shark and then save the henchman. It’s one of the best Batman sequences of all time, and the issue captures so much about the Joker that makes him great: his meticulous planning and forethought and his absurd, violent sense of humor. This one is collected in The Joker: The Greatest Stories Ever Told and will likely be wrapped up in a Neal Adams omnibus sooner rather than later.

Buy The Joker’s Five-Way Revenge on Amazon

The Laughing Fish

Detective Comics #475-476 is another quick story that was incredibly influential on how both Batman and the Joker were portrayed moving forward. That importance stems from two things: the ridiculous, malicious joy of the Joker’s plot, and Marshall Rogers’ art.

The plot was turned into the episode of the same name for Batman: The Animated Series.  A fish wholesaler has made fish that look like the Joker for branding purposes, and the Joker, mad he can’t monetize his own visage the same way, goes on a killing spree to get his rights back. This is darkly hilarious, especially the deeper you dive into the metaphor - the mid ‘70s was a big time for comic creator rights, and Rogers was a big part of that. This comic is basically an effigy for comic creators rights.

read more: The Many Deaths of the Joker

It’s also incredible to look at. Rogers is one of those Batman artists everyone should read at some point, a definitive Batman artist who used the Joker to get even better. Rogers’ Batman is bulkier than some of the Batmen of the time, powerful and intimidating. By contrast, his Joker is long and lanky and bony, the kind of guy who hangs with Batman in a fight not with brute force, but with deceptive speed and a weird amount of torque. You can find these issues collected in Legends of the Dark Knight: Marshall Rogers vol. 1 along with another handful of Batman comics from the same era. These creator compilations are some of the best money you can spend. Especially if you get them on sale digitally or find them in a sale pile at your shop.

A Death in the Family

Great Joker stories are often about what they bring out in Batman. “Death in the Family,” an event story from 1988, is memorable because it brought out pure, shaking, rage from Bruce. This is the story where fans called in a vote on whether or not to kill Robin.

read more: The Actors Who Have Played the Joker

Jason Todd was the second person to hold the Robin mantle. He was a street kid who fell in with Batman and didn’t really know his mother. After he gets benched by Batman for being unreliable, he runs off to try and find out who his mother is, finds (maybe) her working for Shady Doctors Without Borders in Iran, and promptly gets captured by the Joker, beaten almost to death with a crowbar, and then blown up in a warehouse by said Clown Prince. And right afterwards, the Joker is given a position with the Ayatollah’s government and gains diplomatic immunity, effectively pulling a Lethal Weapon 2 on Batman and Superman.

This story is odd, but it’s also significant in the history of Batman, and revealing for the Joker’s character. He’s not all high-concept death traps. Sometimes he’s just a guy with a crowbar. In either case, he’s one of the most dangerous villains in the DCU.

Buy A Death in the Family on Amazon

Joker

If you really enjoyed Heath Ledger’s aesthetic in The Dark Knight, you’re going to love Lee Bermejo’s Joker in this book. He’s everything Ledger was in the movie - disheveled, magnetic, menacing without being intimidating - but he’s also fashionable in a street level mob boss kind of way. That break from Ledger’s Joker is the perfect match for this story.

read more: 10 Times the Joker Almost Nailed Batman

This Joker is grimy and street level. He’s EXTREMELY violent but without the comic book panache he usually has. Here he’s just aggressive, with bottles and guns and knives and no sharks or hot air balloons or parades. But he still maintains that core Jokerness, that unpredictability that makes the character so terrific. 

Buy Joker on Amazon

The Batman Adventures: Mad Love

Paul Dini and Bruce Timm are responsible for the greatest and most definitive Batman of all time - the animated one. They also created Harley Quinn, and told a bunch of great stories with her (“Harley’s Day Out” is one of the best Batman stories ever told), but Mad Love also functions as an excellent examination of Batman and Joker’s relationship.

If you’ve watched the show, you probably know what happens in this comic, as it was adapted in a later episode of the cartoon. The Joker won’t pay any attention to Harley because he’s obsessed with killing Batman, so she decides to do it for him so they can spend time together. We get a look back at her origin, working as a doctor at Arkham and falling for the Joker as she tries to treat him, with all the unreliable narration that entails. The weird hate-triangle this issue explores is a fantastic dynamic to add to the Joker’s backstory, and the issue is by a pair of Batman masters. 

Buy The Batman Adventures: Mad Love on Amazon

Gotham Central: Soft Targets

Gotham Central is incredible. It was a police procedural comic, following the cops of the Major Crimes Unit in Gotham as they worked on all of the various awful stuff that happened in the city, from regular old crimes of passion to a parade of dead teenagers in Robin outfits being left randomly across the city. It was written jointly by Greg Rucka and Ed Brubaker, with Rucka writing the day shift cops, and Brubaker taking the night shift. "Soft Targets" is the storyline that ran from issue 12 to 15, where the Joker just starts sniping people. For the hell of it.

Police procedurals are comfort food, but Gotham Central succeeded because it added something to the formula that made it shine. The characters felt familiar and real at the same time. The conflicts were down to earth for a superhero comic - the first issue dedicates about a third of its story to the Mayor and the Commissioner arguing over overtime pay for the Major Crimes Unit. And even the Joker’s plan, spree killing for chaos’ sake, was remarkably toned down. But it gives us one of the best interrogation scenes in comics history, just by taking the Joker out of his predictable formula, too. 

Arkham Asylum: A Serious House on Serious Earth and The Clown at Midnight

A word of caution here: these books are challenging for even serious comic readers. They’re very rewarding, but they’re not comics you can just pick up an see the Joker and Batman fighting. Both are written by Grant Morrison, with Arkham Asylum drawn by Sandman cover artist Dave McKean. This book is a dense, psychological character study of a LOT of Batman’s villains, but it spends a lot of time on the relationship between Batman and the Joker, as Batman is in the Asylum trying to shut down a riot.

The Clown at Midnight is also written by Morrison and...drawn...by John Van Fleet. I hesitate because what art is there is very evocative, intentionally early period computer graphics. This issue, Batman #663, was published in 2007 (and again as part of the Batman & Son collected edition), but the art looks like it was made on a Compaq 486. That’s intentional - the issue is full of prose segments about how the Joker sheds old personalities like a snake sheds its skin. It’s a very granular way to understand who the Joker is and what he does, but it’s also very good - it’s part of Morrison’s larger Batman story that starts with Batman & Son, runs through R.I.P. and Batman & Robin and finally ends with Batman, Inc. Arkham Asylum is kind of a precursor to this run, so if you want to get started here, it’s worth doing both of these collections and seeing how you enjoy them.

Buy Arkham Asylum on Amazon

For more Joker comics you should read, more Joker movies you should watch, or more about the Joker’s best video game appearances (spoilers: #1 is Shang Tsung’s fatality in Mortal Kombat X), stick with Den of Geek!

Read and download the Den of Geek NYCC 2019 Special Edition Magazine right here!

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Feature Jim Dandy

Oct 9, 2019

DC Entertainment

Joker

Batman

from Books https://ift.tt/35ePMml

[wanderer706]

Behind the Screens Ch 8- Playwright

(Cam. Airl- Written Draft 2)

The paracetamol didn’t seem to be doing anything to help Layla’s headache. She had been lying on her bed for nearly twenty minutes now staring at the patterns of her ceiling, and had achieved nothing. She knew exactly why she had this thumping pain in her skull. A combination of her forgetting to drink any water today, and the stress brought on by her shouting match with a movie studio for script she was writing for them.

The script was an adaptation of a story entitled “The Final Race.” A sci-fi about the human race discovering that they are the last race in the universe. She had read the book herself before being assigned the project, and had really liked it. So, when she came to writing this screenplay she had tried to be as faithful to the book as she could. However, such dedication was lost upon the studio’s executive heads. They were worried about the film not bringing in enough of a crowd to make the film break even at the box office. Thus, came out the dreaded focus group analysts. They were concerned about certain elements being too extreme for audiences so suggested some “minor changes” as they put it. These changes, however, were not minor in the slightest, and Layla had gotten into several shouting matches with them over this.

First, they suggested that the child character Evie Malone shouldn’t die, and instead should live to say the films closing remark about how the human race was good. Two problems with that request. The first was keeping Evie Malone alive. Her death in the book was one of the most traumatising moments for both the reader, and the protagonist. In fact, it caused another character to give up, and commit suicide. Second, the closing remark about the human race being good missed the point of the ending completely. The ending of the book was quite a downer, and it fit the narrative perfectly. In her screenplay she thought she had captured this to the best of her ability. This statement about wanting the human race to be seen as good would come across as unbelievably forced. It made her think they didn’t care about the story at all.

Today she had received another order. The studio wanted a point where they could play some bland pop song that all the teenage girls were apparently in eating up. A song called “I Love You Baby” by a band called the Tweenage Boppers. This again had multiple problems. First that song was about love, and had several sly remarks that translated to I want to have sex with you baby. There was also no love interest in the original book, and again it would come across as tortured compared to the visuals. Second this would indicate they are aiming the film now at the teenage girl market. Sure, she thought, popular teenage girls love stories that end by reminding people of how they are an insignificant speck in the grand scheme of the universe.

She had pointed out these problems these problems to their faces, but they didn’t seem to care. They just filled her head with talk about how it had worked for other movies, and would thus work perfectly for this one. That logic was so backwards that she left that meeting telling asking if they had even written a story before. All the could muster was blank stare before they returned to the comfort zone of their focus group study.

Layla now dreaded them trying to contact her at home because she knew that it would be another bone headed idea that just wouldn’t work. Not to mention the fact that she only had two weeks left until pre-production began. By then they needed a decent script.

Layla took a deep breath, and got up from her bed. She thought about what would be the best way to calm down. She had heard some video games had helped with this type of stress. She had never tried playing one before, but then again you were never too old to do something like that.

She went to her computer, and logged onto it. There she saw that she had received an email from the studio. Fearing the worst, she opened it, and saw that it was from the studio demanding that they call her as soon as she saw that message.

Layla had of course turned her phone off, because she was in such a rage. Now though she figured that she had to hear what they had to say otherwise they might hand it off to somebody who was much more willing to play ball.

“Layla. We’ve got a few more requests that will make this the best script in the world.” The voice on the other end of the line said.

“That’s what you said about the last batch of changes, and I pointed out how that would ruin the script.” Layla said. It was best if they didn’t know how angry she was right now.

“These will be different I promise. Look we’ve further analysed our focus study, and we have two more changes that will work. First, you should ditch the space entity, and replace them with aliens who are pure evil.”

Thus, it began again. The enemy in The Final Race was a mysterious entity. The book never revealed where it came from or why it wanted to wipe out all life in the universe. That was what made it so terrifying, and matched the feel the book had of feeling helpless in the face of god like entity. Replacing it with a race of evil aliens turned it into another bloody film about clear cut good versus evil.

“The second thing that should change is they shouldn’t destroy earth in the end, like in your script. Instead we should defeat them in a heroic manner.”

So not only did they want to go ahead with good versus evil plot, but they wanted to continue that by having good win with no consequences. Even though the protagonist was an illegal scavenger who kills several innocent people at the beginning, so she didn’t get arrested.

“That wouldn’t work at all.” Layla said before telling them her reasons. It was while she in the middle of this that a thought crossed her mind. “Are you using “The Galactic Saviours” as a model for your statistics?”

The Galactic Saviours was the last film that the main stream audiences had latched onto. It was about a group of rugged, doll-like, heroes saving the earth from a group of aliens that may as well have been space Nazis. Layla thought the film was a bland piece of grey goo, but it turned in a massive profit that looked exceptionally good for the studio who made it. Ever since then multiple studios had tried to copy it, or at least try to crowbar in scenes to movies that didn’t need it. Layla was sick of it at this point. She believed that that movie only worked once, and it was best if she, and everybody else in the film industry, made no attempt to copy it.

“No.” The voice on the other end said. Failing to their obvious lying tone.

“You can’t keep copying that movie. All pieces of that pie are gone. Your best bet is to move on, and try something new.” Layla told them.

“But, what if it doesn’t make enough money?”

“Who gives a shit if it doesn’t makes bucket loads of money.”

“Excuse me!”

“The only audience cares about is if the movie is good. If it is then it doesn’t matter how much money it makes so long as it breaks even.”

“No! Audiences want something familiar not something new that makes them feel depressed.”

Layla slammed her fist down on her desk.

“God-damn it that’s not how it works. Answer me this. Would like the movie to be forgotten immediately or remembered for years to come?”

Silence on the other end of the line.

“We’ll continue this tomorrow. Right now, I’m tired. Goodbye” Layla said hanging up the phone.

Layla put the phone back on her desk, and let out a lengthy sigh. She wondered how much experience that trend studier actually had in writing stories. She figured it was not an awful lot. Their area expertise was numbers, and making them say exactly what they wanted. For Layla numbers like that had place in the business of storytelling, or anywhere in the arts for that matter. But, here they were, and it was making her life a living hell. Then again, she had enough experience to not be bullied or intimidated by people like that. The only people she let tear her work apart like that was critics, and that was because it was the only way she learnt how to hone her craft.

She quickly closed down the email box, and opened the news sight. She began to skim when suddenly a single thought entered her mind. She looked down at her wrists, and saw that her hands were starting to shake. She knew she didn’t need it, and it was only that part of her brain that was addicted that was demanding she do it. Her breath increased. Her mind became a blurry haze clouded by one single thought.

She opened her desk drawer, and there it was a small little packet of that familiar white powder. Now her mind was screaming at her, and finally she caved. She took two pinches of the powder out of the bag, and snorted them up her nose.

Her mind was clear again, but now she felt like garbage. It wasn’t something she wanted to be addicted to, but it was something she used frequently in her twenties as a way of showing rebellion against the system. However, once her mind matured she realised that she didn’t have anything to rebel against, but her mind was still addicted to cocaine. Her one shame in life that nobody should know about except for the man who gave her the stuff.

As her mind cleared she looked back at the screen. There were the usual articles about drama with the politicians, some famous person donated money to charity, and a cruise ship had been quarantined due to someone being on board with measles. She then saw a box that flashing, and trying to get her attention. “Police press conference on apartment killer live in 20 minutes” the message in the box was saying.

Layla stared at this box with intent. Like everyone else in the city she was both curious, and terrified about the killer. She was terrified because he hadn’t been caught, and had killed god knows how many people. She should be extra terrified because he exclusively hit apartment buildings much like the one she lived in, but Layla’s inner writer got in the way of that. It felt like something that she herself would possibly write about herself in a work. Except this wasn’t fiction it was real life. A fictional story playing out before her. The idea bizarrely excited her even though people were dying.

She removed that thought, and closed down the news tab. She then logged onto a game store, someone at work had set up for her once as a joke, and began to browse through their selection.

[ladycatland]

The crowbar is purely an accessory that makes him look more intimidating, thus, Dream and everyone else is too intimidated to stop the peaceful lmanberg revolution and lmanberg is just immediately established.

I love how ccwilbur apparently says dream SMP would've been much shorter if cwilbur had a crowbar like. As if he didn't have access to swords and magical enchantments and crossbows.

Why a crowbar? What would the crowbar have changed? And what specific situation would have changed?

Is he implying he'd have just hit schlatt over the head with the crowbar? Dream? Because, he had access to far more efficient weaponry and he didn't do that so????

Like, yeah, it's such a funny af line but the more I think about it the more I NEED to know how he meant it because I just have more and more questions. What would he have accomplished with a crowbar that he couldn't with a diamond axe?

In unrelated news, it's past 5am so I've decided to finally go to sleep.

But also WHY TF NOT JUST GIVE HIM A GUN??? THATS SO MUCH MORE EFFICIENT AND ACTUALLY BETTER THAN ANY POSSIBLE WEAPONRY ON THE DSMP WHY NOT JUST GO FOR A GUN

Yeah now that I think about you're right, why a crowbar? What could a crowbar do?

[shibascarf]

I FOUND SOME FLUFF FOR YOU GUYS

Dug this out of my old chatlogs with @egoldtist​

i think they and i both did a tiny bit of drawings for this one too

here is 50′s au:

sofa: its just the jli as a weird vaguely incompetent 50s biker gang who try to cause A Ruckus but more often than not they just band together to drive out neighborhood threats

sofa: in any period au ted totally kind of hits on booster as a joke, to like tease him, and boosters like haha yeah right funny

sofa : until the dawning realization takes him

shibe : i love that like.... paradoxically.... the more open and queer-friendly a time period is, the more closeted ted is for some reason

shibe: hahahhaha

sofa : yeah omg

shibe : like, the more likely his flirting jokiness is to be taken seriously, the more cautious he becomes

shibe : i feel like if gayness had a death penalty, ted would be running around playing gay chicken like HA HA

sofa : HONESTLY

shibe : what a strange chubby man

sofa : true but i love him

shibe : i'm just imagining biker ted's bike

shibe : which he clearly calls the bug

sofa : oh absolutely

sofa : he probably builds in a side car later

shibe : ahhhhhhh

sofa : because as is soon very apparent, booster should be no where near bikes

shibe : the sidecar is dubbed "skeets"

shibe : because its squeaks

sofa : YES

shibe : booster trying to look intimidating in that sidecare tho

shibe : big goggles and all

shibe : they pull up alongside a convertible and booster has to look UP to stare the driver down

sofa : hes pretty sour about it

shibe : he looks great when they're in the pool hall. he's got a nice leather jacket. he's tall. he's' buff

shibe : but then you follow him out to the parking lot and he hops into that sidecar

sofa : its all over

sofa : he tries to do something to prove hes intimidating which is mostly ted driving around while booster smashes what he can from his sidecar

shibe : with a crowbar

sofa : they knock an old lady's mailbox over but she catches them and theyre like OH SHIT

shibe : DRIVE TED DRIVE

sofa : she catches them and in order to avoid prison time they get stuck using up their whole afternoon fixing it for her

shibe : but they do genuinely feel pretty bad

sofa : true

sofa : they repaint it and everything

sofa : it looks pretty bad but they tried

shibe : bea and tora ride by to just... watch and shake their heads

sofa : honestly

sofa : even guy gets in on it

sofa : just to make fun of them

shibe : guy's the asshole that drives through a mud puddle nearby to get it all over them

sofa : guy better be careful that old lady'll get him too

shibe : are you kidding, he petsits her cats every summer

shibe : (no one knows)

sofa : no one can EVER know

shibe : i'm sure they all go to the ice cream parlor and dance at sock hops

sofa : oh man absolutely

sofa : only about 3 of them can actually dance everyone else is pretty bad

shibe : ted's an amazing dancer for sure

sofa : booster can probably lift up whoever hes dancing with

sofa : ohhh yes absolutely

shibe : BOOSTER AND TED DOING THE JITTERBUG

sofa : YES

shibe : booster being like man, ted, you ever get jealous that the chicks get to wear those poofy petticoats and poodle skirts?

shibe : ted's like whatt

shibe : "ahahhaha  no nothing never mind"

sofa : yessss omfg

shibe : he totally has never been caught wearing michelle's when no one's home

shibe : it's not even a sexual thing, he just loves skirts and dresses

sofa : absolutely

sofa : they just look so GOOD its not FAIR

shibe : they're so SWISHY and POOFY and fun

sofa : theyre probably not as hot either

shibe : than leather? hahahhahah for sure

sofa : ted probably thinks about what he said later like

sofa : its not like he'd look BAD in them- ok wait nO

shibe : buys booster a jacket with a poodle on the back of it

shibe : like here

sofa : BOOSTER LOVES IT

sofa : he looks so happy about it

shibe : BEA COME LOOK AT MY JACKET

sofa : even though he cant wear it out much

shibe : tora tora toraaaaaaaaaaa look at this jacket

sofa : ted got it for me

sofa : teds the BEST

shibe : "why does it have a poodle on it booster"

[8 shibe : it's.... an inside joke

sofa : its between us...... 'friends'

shibe : "by 'friends' do you mean guys that make out in the boys bathroom and smoke together during homeroom"

shibe : BEA

sofa : THATS IT BEA

sofa : teds like "what cant two guys just pal around and kiss each other... for laughs.... come on"

shibe : "it's practice bea"

shibe : "we're practicing for junior prom. i'm gonna ask michelle out"

shibe : "NO UR NOT."

shibe : don't you even LOOK at my sister u creep

sofa : that's how ted realizes hes really, really actually gay

sofa : hes like kissing girls compared to kissing booster is not.. its not as good

sofa : fuck

shibe : he's at prom like "oh geeze"

shibe : "i've made a huge mistake"

sofa : hes so alarmed

sofa : on one hand hes trying to figure out how deep in denial he can be and on the other its like

sofa : what about booster

sofa : does booster like kissing girls more than kissing me

shibe : oh noooooooooooooooooooooo

shibe : booster's across the room slow-dancing with bea and sticks his tongue out at ted

sofa : ted just tries to act natural but hes totally thinking of asking booster to slow dance in private later

shibe : he's like "okay do i come up with an excuse or do i just ask him for real"

shibe : truthfully booster doesn't think kissing ted is like.... a huge amount better than kissing girls.  it's just better with ted because ted is fun and good with mechanics and gets it when booster is complaining about guy stuff

shibe : but then when he considers that dating a girl would mean not kissing ted anymore he's like ........nah i'm good

sofa : no thanks

shibe : i'm dying, just think of bea/tora making a deal with booster/ted to be each other's beards

sofa : OHHH H YES

shibe : they even stage a fake pregnancy scare one time so that eveyrone thinks they're a totally sexually active teen het romance

sofa : the challenge is to not act too outrageous while theyre on 'dates' because ted will start cracking up at any stupid thing booster tries while 'dating' bea

sofa : OHH MY GOD U KIDS

shibe : bea's like "i dunno" but then tora points out that it basically means they get to go on dates for free b/c the guys have to foot the bill

sofa : it leads to extremely cheap dates

sofa : but extremely cheap dates they still don't have to pay for

shibe : i'm trying to imagine ted and booster like.... slow-dancing outside the gymnasium by the dumpster, with earth angel playing tinnily from the door

shibe : cry

sofa : ohhhh no that's too cute

shibe : michelle like... keeping watch on the steps, smiling fondly

sofa : shes very proud of her brother but also: his tastes

sofa : because despite the gang stuff teds obviously still a nerd

shibe : the sheer relief that ted doesn't want to date her for real

sofa : HONESTLY

sofa : im dying purely in thought of all the gestures booster must do that counts as "look we're going steady" but no one will like go out of their way to ask them about

sofa : like giving ted his jacket

shibe : or his ring

shibe : or his pin

sofa : or carrying his books or something

sofa : YEAH

sofa : TEDS SO FLUSTERED but hes gotta keep it cool

shibe : guy thoroughly beating the shit out of anyone that laughs about them behind their backs

sofa : its enough to scare ppl into backing off at least

sofa : guy def still teases them all the damn time tho

shibe : oh totally

shibe : but like, no one else gets to

shibe : guy cracks a joke at their expense and someone in earshot laughs

shibe : and guy just spins around like YOU WANT SOME

sofa : i bet all of them get detention together too

sofa : that's usually when they collaborate with what they have to cover up at least like, 3 of guys worst cuts, and also to fuck around and copy off of ted's homework

shibe : i love that ted is like... a nerdy biker delinquent

shibe : how charming

sofa : YEAH

sofa : ppl are like, hes a bright charming young man, but hes such a trouble maker

sofa : shaking their heads

shibe : FOR HALLOWEEN

shibe : for halloween

shibe : booster dresses in drag and finally finally gets to wear his poodleskirt

shibe : it's the only acceptable time

sofa : YES

sofa : ppl think its a joke and he plays it off as much

shibe : oh for sure

shibe : but inside, he's glowing

shibe michelle plays along and goes as a greaser

sofa : but he keeps shooting these sneaky glances @ ted and ted has to shove him like CMON

shibe : "get it, we're twins, we did a set"

sofa : yesss yes omg

shibe : and at the halloween dance booster finally gets to dance in his poodle skirt

shibe : and he looks amaaaazing

sofa : ted is on fire like. the whole time

sofa : drags booster out back like I NEED TO TALK TO YOU

sofa : (there is 0 actual talking)

shibe : ahahhahhahahha

shibe : yesssss

shibe : it's like, legitimately the best day of booster's life. and that includes the time he made the varsity football team

sofa : yes absolutely

sofa : boosters probably just really glad hes got so much goin for him

sofa : like the varsity team, and a group of people who genuinely like him, and also ted

shibe : and a sister that's really helpful and supportive when she's not teasing him mercilessly

sofa : yes

sofa : auuug h h i just realized booster must have the stupid football jacket too damn it

shibe : ahhahahhahhahahhahahh ayes eysyesyesyesyesyes

sofa : im also thinkin like....... what if...... ted needs glasses... like those really thick ones

sofa : he doesn't wear them unless hes working on something REALLY important but he still def needs them

shibe : ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

shibe : big old coke glasses

shibe : booster reading menus aloud for ted

sofa : yessss omg

sofa : ted also coming over to fix anything that breaks in the carter family house because he knows they cant really afford to hire anybody

shibe : ah oh noooooooooooooo

shibe : booster and michelle working a bunch of jobs to help their mom

sofa : y es omg

sofa : assuming of course teds family is still rich he probably like goes to... any number of their jobs and tips them with like. all his pocket change

sofa : booster keeps telling him not to but he keeps doing it

shibe : booster behind the counter of a soda-jerk place

shibe : and ted's like, yes, i would like to make a special order

shibe : "we don't do substitutions ted. i've told you this. repeatedly"

shibe : not even forrrrrrr twenty bucks??????

shibe : *sides bill over

shibe : ..... i'll go crush up some candy bars and put them in your milkshake. you're the worst

sofa : TED OMG

sofa : hes just there eating it

sofa : completely satisfied with himself

shibe : GOING TO THE DRIVE IN THEATER

sofa : OOHHH BOY

sofa : almost getting kicked out of the drive in theater

sofa : because theyre actually super obnoxious

shibe : tora working as a waitress at a drive in burger place with rollar skates

sofa : yesss yess omg

sofa : i bet tora like

sofa : puts special patches or something on everyones jacket

sofa : just so everyone knows theyre all apart of the gang, together

shibe : oh man of course

shibe : MAYBE TORA

shibe : embroidered the poodle for booster's jacket

shibe : at ted's request

sofa : OHHH YESSSSSSSSS

sofa : the exact moment tora figured out ted was sweet on booster

sofa : one step ahead of the game

shibe : when she gave it to ted, she was like "good luck ted"

shibe : he was like ????? thanks?

sofa : totally went off to gossip abt it with bea and beas just like yessss

sofa : i knew it

shibe : WELL THEY KEEP EXPERIMENTING IN THE BATHROOMS

shibe : it seems obvious in retrospect

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

shibe: do u wanna talk about 50's au

shibe: b/c

shibe: i had a heartbreaking idea

[8/24/2015 9:26:22 PM] couch seat hands: oh my god absolutely yes

shibe: OK SO

shibe: i was thinking about ted going to the dance with michelle

shibe: and i'm like first of all how did she say yes, and was it even his idea

shibe: and i realized like....

shibe: booster got a date with bea first. and then ted was like "well have fun buddy"

shibe: and booster was like NO ur coming too, and ted is like i don't have a date???? and tora's going with guy

shibe:  so BOOSTER was like u need to ask michelle

shibe:  and ted was like hahahha yeah, she'll never say yes in a million years

shibe: and booster's like no, dude trust me

shibe: she'll say yes

shibe: so the next day, he asks michelle and she does say yes??????

shibe: which is awesome but confusing, but really cool

shibe: but then all of the next few weeks leading up to the dance, booster is working tons of extra hours

shibe: and he tells ted it's cool and whatever, but he's looking really really tired and he keeps falling asleep in class b/c he's working late night shifts at the general store

shibe: and long story short, booster's working extra hours so he can pay for michelle to buy a really nice dress and get her hair/makeup done at a salon, which is how he got her to say yes to ted

shibe: and now ted's guilty cuz he's there with michelle and it's not like he imagined it would be at all, but booster worked so hard just so he could go with a girl

sofa: AAAAHHH OH MY GOD

sofa: this KILLS THE MAN

shibe: i'm awful

sofa: u gotta tell me they save a dance for each other

sofa: like 1 at least

shibe: this is the one where they dance back behind the gym so yeah, totally

sofa: OoHHh right

sofa: yesss

shibe: but michelle looks so gorgeous, she is the most beautiful girl there

shibe: and ted still wants booster instead

sofa: aaGGHH

sofa: to be fair the carter twins are probably the most beautiful sibs in school

sofa: but gOD TED

shibe: booster and michelle do a dance together, as siblings, obvs

sofa: yesss

shibe: and then ted's like "can i cut in" and booster's like "oh, sure, ted" and ted's like "... n o can we go talk... outside"

sofa: OHHH

sofa: i am lovin this as a good opportunity to be like so u know how we kissed each other for practice? Well,

sofa: Bc those are the type of scenarios that keep me young

shibe: and michelle followed them and booster's like "NO SHHHhhhhhhhhhhh" and michelle is like

shibe: plz

shibe: we're trwins

shibe: no secrets

shibe: i know all

shibe: just like u know that i'm not a virgin

sofa: DANG MICHELLE

sofa: Michelle and booster are probably like.... the two kids u would least expect to be messing around and generally being delinquents, Bc they look like fuckin hallmark kids and also one of them is a cheerleader and a football star

sofa: but here they are

shibe: they fight tooth and nail for that popularity, hahahha

shibe: michelle with grooming and social ladders, booster with sports and working five different odd jobs

sofa: i imagine any time booster like... fucks up or breaks something at work teds always like I'll cover it don't worry

sofa: cuz obviously he's got the rich kid perks, and spending his money that way pisses off his folks

sofa: booster keeps telling him to cut it out b4 he gets cut off or something

shibe: honestly, i wonder how they started smooching in the first place

shibe: like, given the setting and all

shibe: for the 50's au, i mean

sofa: well i mean i figure it was probably like a "have you ever kissed a girl" "not really.. you?" and they agreed that if they did it strictly for practicing only, at first, it wouldn't be gay

sofa: and then it was

shibe: something like, if it doesn't kiss when you kiss a family member, it doesn't kiss when you kiss a bro

shibe: and also all the anti-homosexual propaganda usually had to do with pedophiles so

shibe: maybe they were just like "well it's nothign like that so"

sofa: ahhh truuu

shibe: oh nooooo

shibe: ted being like "holy shit i'm the worst pervert, NO ONE IS SAFE"

sofa: NOO OMG

sofa: how would booster even sort himself thru it omg

sofa: OR TORA AND BEA FOR THAT MATTER TOO

shibe: i feel like tora and bea get a pass b/c there were totally like

shibe: dime novels about lesbians and shit

shibe: i bet booster would like

shibe: go digging through his history books

shibe: and come back to ted with a long list of non-straight people

shibe: and be like "look, this is so normal, you can still be an awesome inventor when you grow up"

sofa: boOSTER

sofa: GOOOOSH

shibe: but at the same time, being like "if you want to keep this totally under wraps, we can do it. i'm so willing to do that for you"

sofa: i m gonna die holy shit

sofa: ted probably agrees with it because obviously its safer to lie low but hes also totally lousy with guilt

shibe: which is funny, b/c booster doesn't feel bad about it at all?

shibe: he spends tons of time pretending he's not poor as shit

shibe: what's one more charade on the pile

sofa: covers face

sofa: booster gold has fucking. ruined my life

shibe: he's such a sweet kind, innocent, vain asshole

shibe: protect him, universe, just as he protects u

sofa: HONESTLY

sofa: HES FULL OF HIMSELF BUT LIKE.. WHAT ELSE CAN HE DO AT THAT POINT

sofa: pls. what else Does He Have

shibe: ted must have an awful family

shibe: like, a gross dad that wants him to go into business and a sad drugged out housewife ma

sofa: ur probably right

shibe: ted probably lives in a big house

shibe: and booster throws rocks at his window and ted is like I'M ON THE FIRST FLOOR PLZ STOP

sofa: OMG YES

sofa: consistently tries to get ted to sneak out with him in the middle of the night

shibe: he's always getting off work at night and dying to go out for a shake or something

shibe: he's one of those people that gets wired and giddy when they're tired

sofa: absolutely omfg

sofa: those are probably his moments of pranking ingenious

shibe: they put green dye in bea's shampoo

shibe: but then she likes it so much she keeps doing it

shibe: prank failed

sofa: they still try to take credit for it tho later on

sofa: like

sofa: yeah ur welcome

shibe: people giving bea shit for being a "spic" and everyone like JUMPING IN TO FIGHT LIKE HEY

shibe: even tora

shibe: tora straight up pulls a girl's hair out

sofa: OOOHH YES

sofa: tora is very nice, and sweet and polite, but she can be fuckin brutal if need be

sofa: that's why the gang loves her

shibe: they all have polaroids of each other with black eyes and huge grins

sofa: ahhh yes yes yesss omfg

[sulfurousdreamscapes]

I feel like I'm stuck. I need to start reading again, and I want to start writing, but how?

First, you probably need to figure out why you’re not reading or writing. Is something taking up your time? Figure out a way to make time, every single day. The actual process of writing is nothing more than putting one word after another. There is no arcane ritual or technical procedure you need to perform to be able to do that. Just put one word after another, and you’re already writing.

The Contraption walked through the school, her three jaws hanging limp, revealing a blood red interior gated by two rows of steel teeth. Her wide open eyes were black and red, but her skin was pale with just enough hue to suggest some long-lost relation to humanity. She had teal hair and a grey uniform splattered with dried blood. She trailed an axe behind her. Nobody really messed with this one.

And yet, The Contraption was empathy incarnate. Those who stayed away from the school caught glimpses of her, and thought her one of the foulest things to inhabit the ruined world. But those who lived in the school grounds—they knew that for all the horrific butchering she could commit, The Contraption had once been an angel. She still was.

How she ended up in her present body was a mystery even to her. She had lost all memory of how she ended up at the school, but she recognised it as the school she had joined two weeks before whatever it is that happened, happened. Her arms were made of metal, and blades jutted out of broken faux-flesh. She shrieked. They say she still shrieks sometimes.

“How are you today, Gardenboy?” she asked, her voice robotic and sinister at once. Gardenboy knew, however, that she meant him no harm. If anything, she was the friendliest person in the school.

“It’s a good day, Contie,” Gardenboy said, “The flowers are in bloom. They smell beautiful. To think that even after the world ended, we still deserve flowers.”

Gardenboy looked at The Contraption suddenly. “Oh, I didn’t mean—I’m sorry, I know you can’t smell them.”

The Contraption shook her head, her jaws swaying back and forth. “I’m sure they smell lovely,” she said, her eyes focused on Gardenboy, but never blinking.

She went out into the field, where The Lookout was doing his rounds.

“Are you doing alright, Lookout? Please don’t exhaust yourself. What would we do with you?” The Contraption asked.

The Lookout turned to face her and laughed a goofy laugh. “Nothing’s getting past me, Contie. Besides, it’s been quiet. No one’s messing with the school anymore. Makes me wonder if they discovered some way out of this world and they all just left us behind.”

“If such a portal existed,” The Contraption said, “Would you like it to go to the world before, or the world beyond?”

“Hell, just give me death, please, and with medium fries,” The Lookout laughed.

The Contraption stared at him, unable to laugh. “I am laughing,” she said, and the Lookout nodded at her. “You’re a good one, Contie,” he said, “You keep us safe. If we didn’t have you, who knows where we’d be. You bring us all together.”

“Aw, shucks,” The Contraption said, her jaws closing and opening in embarrassment instead of speech, and her eyes refused to blink. She lifted her axe and rested it on her right shoulder, where it lodged comfortably between two metal parts sticking out of the faux-flesh.

The expedition wasn’t quite a success. All she’d managed to catch were two dogs, and one of them was already wounded. She theorised that someone had spotted her approach and hightailed it, leaving the dog to die. Or, well, to be stolen. The Contraption didn’t have to eat, but she made sure that the community was well-fed. Everyone had a role, and hers was to use her power, intimidation and sheer ability to feed the school.

It had been a while since she’d heard gunfire within the school campus. The first few times there had been gunfire, The Contraption had made sure no one fired a gun. But if there were shots being fired, then something else was wrong. The school had been breached.

The Contraption picked up her pace, but as she neared the school, she dropped the dogs and started running as fast as her metal legs could carry her, the street almost breaking beneath the impact of her heels.

She jumped over the school gate and landed with a heavy crash on the asphalt. Her jaws hung low as she scanned the area. The gunfire was coming from inside the building. She ran. Inside, she followed the cracking sounds to the gym. Just as she entered, a man with a large, black rifle killed The Lookout with a bullet to the skull.

Gardenboy was kneeling next to the body, shivering all over. At a distance, Tender, Apostrophe and Caliban were lying on the floor in pools of blood. The ones who were alive were kneeling in a row. They turned to face The Contraption, and so did the aggressor, the man with glasses and a full, curly beard. He didn’t smile, but he held up his rifle. At ease.

The Contraption hissed out of pure instinct and began running towards the man. She shot up into the air, hoping to come down on the man. Instead, she fell down with a limp crash, a few feet away from him. The man looked at her without expression, his gun still pointing at the ceiling.

The Contraption tried to move, but she was paralysed. Not a single part of her strange, tormented body moved.

And then, in the corner, she saw The Healer. The woman with the shimmering, golden locks and he pale smile of a mother too sinister to love. “Hello,” The Healer said, her spotless white dress sweeping the floor behind her.

“You,” The Contraption managed to hiss out.

The Healer crouched in front of her. “I warned you this day would come, so I hope you’re not very surprised,” the Healer said with a simple smile.

“Die,” The Contraption said, her eyes fixated on The Healer.

“There’s only so long a machine can work before someone figures out how to turn it off. And if you can’t turn it off, well,” the Healer ran a hand over The Contraption’s head, “Someone always finds out how to stick a rod in the churning gears. That’s what’s happened to you… Contie.”

Every time they pulled a piece of metal out of her, a sharp pang of pain shot through The Contraption’s body. Her eyes were still like a doll, and yet there an intensity in them that can only be brought about by a body in physical suffering.

The man touched her jaw without fear. She wasn’t used to that. He dug his fingers in and almost jerked them back out when he felt how sharp the teeth inside were. Finally finding a hold, he yanked the jaw open as far back as he could. Then he used a crowbar on it, holding the Contraption’s head down with the sole of his boot. Finally, the jaw snapped with a crack and hung limp to the side of The Contraption’s face.

“It’s not that easy when no one’s afraid of you, is it?” The Healer asked. “It’s not so easy when you’re the one being torn apart.”

The Contraption couldn’t even close her eyes now. The paralysis had spread into every cell of her body—if her body was even made of cells.

“This was supposed to be purgatory,” The Healer said, sitting down cross-legged. “But you turned it into hell. Now we’re taking it back.”

“Hell’s where you deserve to be,” Gardenboy said. The man went on mutilating The Contraption, but the Healer turned to face Gardenboy and she stared at him in odd wonder.

“You don’t really think we’re going back, do you? No one’s getting saved,” The Healer said, her voice deathly serious, “This little kindergarten you’ve got going here? It’s not going to save you. It’s not going to save anyone.”

“It was going to save us the trouble of dealing with people like you,” Gardenboy replied. “That would’ve been plenty.”

The Healer got up and instructed the man to stop. She stared at Gardenboy for a while, and then walked right out of the gym, the man following her, rifle and crowbar and all. The Contraption lay where she had been, surrounded by all the metal and parts that had been pulled out of her.

Gardenboy crawled towards her and cradled her head. “We’ll find a way to fix you, Contie, we’ll figure something out.”

“How do you even know she’s alive?” Heron asked.

“I just do,” Gardenboy said.

“And how are you going to fix her?” Heron asked.

“Will you stop with the questions? They’re not helping.”

The Contraption lay there, and Gardenboy attended to her all day and all night. He refused sleep, and when forced to eat, ate next to her. He tried putting the pieces of metal back in place, but gave up eventually.

She never got up. Gardenboy gave up the gardens. He wished he could hear her shriek again, far away, where she thought no one would hear her.

“She’s dead, she’s gone,” Heron said.

Gardenboy did not object this time. “It doesn’t matter. If we forget her, then we will have failed her. Maybe she’s dead. But she’s not gone.

[dystopianwildflower]

Ｉ ＡＭ ＰＲ Ξ Ｙ(W.I.P.)

❝ Who’s That? ❞ 

Eyes peered upon the male, groups huddling as if to block him out and create a more defensive wall between the two creatures. Man revolutionized to adapt, but he thought it really was to put the weaker ones in a more vulnerable spot to be shunned. It was a more reoccurring thought that it almost felt like a memory, like a fantasy or a dream that swept his mind down a river. He didn't blame the teenager’s his age.

❝ Look at what he’s wearing! ❞ 

❝ He looks like he got vomited on by a unicorn. ❞ 

 ❝ Is any of it even name brand? ❞ 

 ❝ Probably his underwear- or, panties. ❞   

He looked at the cast of judgement then continued on, marching down to the office in his bright attire. His backpack was slung over his shoulder like war gear, his tongue was pierced but decided not to turn and show it. Maybe they’ll say he did it himself because he couldn't afford it. Or get beat up. He paused at the desk of one of the staff, she simply gave him a look and got his name. before long, he had his entire schedule. 

He turned to walk out, being met with larger males. He ran his fingers through his curly hair and walked past them. His presence didn't go unnoticed, however. Everyone went their separate ways, and he was left alone. 

❝ They give me what to go to but not how to get there. ❞

He was walking for twenty minutes through the vast school, he swore he was walking in large circles. His eyes began to get big the more he got frustrated, he simply stormed toward the front doors and left the large building. He wasn’t one to be upset like this, but already he had moved and forced to be here and already get criticized. He was the king of his last school, why the fuck does he have to stay here?

❝ Yo. ❞

Turning to greet the eyes of the person, he felt and heard more footsteps from his right. He turned to meet the other guy, Seeing him tower was almost intimidating. ❝ New here, eh? I used to be new. Since you are, we will politely ask you to get up and out of our area.❞

❝ ºʰ, ˢᵒʳʳʸ. ❞

He began to get up, slowly using the wall behind him for support. He finally was about to walk before he got a nice ＫＩＣＫ to the knees. For a second, everything was blurry; the pain was unforgiving. 

❝ Pass me the crowbar. ❞

❝ Boss, he’s- ❞

❝ ＰＡＳＳ ＭＥ ＴＨＥ ＤＡＭＮ ＣＲＯＷＢＡＲ. ❞

Without a single word, the larger man handed the crowbar over to the other to his left. The smaller man struggled to breath, huffing and attempting to crawl away from the two.

❝ I’ve decided to show you real anger, what you can do when people push you over; ❞

He circled him like a hawk, a sharp eye being forced upon his being. The younger male cried out and plead, but the other man’s foot was now on his back as he kept him in place.  ❝ Such a soft beige, that color. Such fragile curly hair two.

 Those light-brown eyes! gorgeous. Why don’t you use your exotic presence to rise above them. ❞

Another thwack and his eyes got bigger as he screamed in pure agony. His head was now bleeding, his skull almost cracked open. He slid the weapon from the wound to his small face, using it to lift his head to look at him.

❝ I’m Jack. Who are you? ❞

❝ Sawyer! my name is Sawyer! Please, let go of me. ❞

❝ ＳＴＯＰ ＴＲＥＡＴＩＮＧ ＴＨＩＳ ＡＳ Ａ ＣＵＲＳＥ. This is a blessing, Something not a lot of people are able to experience. Oh, Sawyer. Don’t worry, i’ll make sure that you learn when you come with me. ❞

❝ I’M NOT GOING ANYWHERE WITH YOU! ❞

❝ Run in and grab the principal. Tell them that someone came and injured a student, don’t specify. ❞

His obedient sidekick did as he said, and the last thing sawyer remembered before he was brutally knocked out. Jack’s smile.

[aion-rsa]

How Do You Approach Worldbuilding?

https://ift.tt/2D3V9ve

We’re honored to bring this roundtable conversation between three of speculative fiction’s most exciting up-and-coming authors: Emily Tesh, A.K. Larkwood, and Everina Maxwell. In it, the writers and IRL friends have a funny and insightful conversation about everything from fantasy maps (yea or nay?), writing an emerging romantic relationship (how do Tesh and Maxwell do it so well?), and worldbuilding (the struggle!).

In honor of the recent publication of Tesh’s Drowned Country (the sequel to last year’s lush, folkloric fantasy Silver in the Wood), we’re running the first part of the conversation. We’ll finish the conversation in February, in celebration of the publication of Maxwell’s first novel, a gay space opera about princes in an arranged marriage called Winter’s Orbit. (Larkwood’s The Unspoken Name, a fantasy about an orc priestess turned wizard’s assassin, hit shelves back in February.)

Now, without further ado…

A. K. LARKWOOD: Hello, I’m A. K. Larkwood, also known as Kassie, I wrote The Unspoken Name, a book about what happens when you’ve been brought up with a terrible purpose – and then, when it comes to it, you can’t go through with it. Csorwe expects to die in the Shrine of the Unspoken One, but she’s rescued by a strange wizard who says he has a new task for her – and the question is how far she’ll go to serve the person who saved her life. It’s also about loyalty, sacrifice, and the special bond between truly annoying coworkers. I have spent most of the plague year so far doing a series of increasingly recherche craft projects to procrastinate working on the sequel. Surrounded by crochet animals, painted lampshades, wholemeal loaves and small watercolors of fruit, I now have no choice but to… participate in this Q&A.

EMILY TESH: Hi! I’m Emily Tesh, and I wrote the Greenhollow Duology – Silver in the Wood, a story about what happens when the centuries-old avatar of the greenwood meets a handsome young folklore enthusiast with more curiosity than common sense, and its sequel Drowned Country, a story about being a person with no common sense who has accidentally stumbled into the role of a woodland demigod. I am not nearly as good at craft projects as Kass so my plague year procrastination has been spent replaying video games I have already played for hundreds of hours; at this rate my next book will be some sort of thinly veiled Starbound/Mass Effect/Two Point Hospital crossover in which all problems are solved by completing picross puzzles.

EVERINA MAXWELL: I haven’t done anything productive in quarantine but I’ve taken a whole lot of naps. Rounding out the SFF combo, I’m Everina Maxwell and I wrote Winter’s Orbit, a queer romantic space opera about arranged marriage, intergalactic politics, and slow healing from the past. To prevent a war, disreputable media darling Prince Kiem is ordered to marry Count Jainan of Thea, a quiet scholar grieving the loss of his previous husband. The match shouldn’t work, and the political waters are treacherous–even before Jainan is accused of murder. On with the questions!

Q: Let’s kick off with, what are we reading at the moment?

LARKWOOD: I really enjoyed Zen Cho’s The Order of the Pure Moon Reflected In Water, which is a snappy, funny, and rather touching novella about a nun who joins a group of bandits. If you’re looking for something longer, I also loved The Changeling by Victor Lavalle, which is about… a book dealer whose wife commits a terrible crime. Or is it??? I actually don’t want to tell you anything more about it because it’s such a wild ride. I picked it up and read the first page thinking ‘I’m not sure this is for me but let’s see’, and ended up eating up the whole thing in one go.

MAXWELL: My concentration has been a bit shot lately what with 2020 happening, but I’m excited to dig into Of Dragons, Feasts and Murders by Aliette de Bodard–Vietnamese mythology and murder husbands!

TESH: I have also been suffering from the pandemic of it all when it comes to reading, but I really enjoyed The Empress of Salt and Fortune by Nghi Vo – love the novella length for when you are having a hard time concentrating, and it is gorgeously written.

Q: LARKWOOD: As we know I am a nerd who loves a fantasy map, but I understand you two are map-agnostic verging on anti-map. Please explain this wrong opinion to me. 

TESH: OK, my map agnosticism has two angles:

As a reader and as a profoundly geographically confused person anyway, it is 100% likely that a fantasy map tells me nothing. We are crossing the Pointy Mountains to enter the Forest of Spiders? Fabulous, bring on the spiders. I do not care which direction they are coming from, I promise to be equally alarmed by them regardless of point of origin. I will literally never refer to a map when I am reading a book. It gives me nothing. Probably this is a personal failing.

As a writer I am suspicious of mapping, especially mapping too soon, because it can pin you down to things you are later stuck with (oh no I put a river here and now it’s in the way – or even worse, oh no I need a river and the map says I haven’t got one.) And then that prevents me from using my all-time favourite setting trick, which is ‘Coincidentally We Have Found Ourselves In A Location That Precisely Echoes Our Emotional State.’ (The spiders… are the characters’ feelings.) For example, a good chunk of my novella Drowned Country is set in Fairyland, which ended up as a painfully barren and empty landscape – because that is where the characters are, emotionally speaking, so that was the setting I needed. But I couldn’t have mapped it – I am not a detailed planner and I often don’t know what emotionally significant locations I need until I hit the relevant sequence!

Obviously the usual caveat applies to all this which is ‘you can do anything if you do it well’. Even I can acknowledge that a good fantasy map is a thing of beauty. For example, Kass, I am deeply pleased by the map from The Unspoken Name, which turns a front-of-fantasy-novel standard into a character moment – want to tell us about how you designed it? 

LARKWOOD: I’ll be honest, my intention with the world of Unspoken was to make a fantasy setting that could not be mapped. (For those who haven’t read it: the setting is composed of many worlds connected by portals to an eerie hyperspace labyrinth called the Maze.) I was feeling burnt-out on the idea of a fantasy setting as an alternate universe or RPG setting or any other kind of internally consistent simulation. I wanted to make something not just implausible but impossible, and was feeling very harassed by the idea that someone might ever try to tell me that I was wrong about alluvial plains or something, so the original concept was actively contrarian about geography. For instance, there were rivers but no seas, because they had all been poisoned and destroyed by divine warfare thousands of years ago (take that, The Water Cycle!). 

Having made this unmappable world my immediate thought was “but how do I map it, though?” In the actual book, the Maze serves the dual purpose of giving us kind of a space opera feel, and also lets me do a lot of different surreal landscapes while giving the characters the ability to zip around quite freely from one location to another. So the map in the book is a collage of different fragmentary maps of different worlds – it’s supposed to give the impression that the main character has maybe been compiling it on her travels.

MAXWELL: My editor asked me for a map three times. On her third attempt I realised I could no longer pretend I just hadn’t read that line in all her previous emails, panicked and opened PowerPoint, because Paint intimidates me and all I can do with a pencil is stab myself. This tells you everything you need to know about my mapmaking process.

Read more

Books

The Unspoken Name’s Map Proves It’s A Different Kind of Fantasy

By Megan Crouse

Books

Cover Reveal: Winter’s Orbit by Everina Maxwell

By Kayti Burt

Q: LARKWOOD: So Silver In The Wood/Drowned Country and Winter’s Orbit are both about a winsome fool who eventually kisses someone more sensible. I’m consistently impressed by how well the two of you can leverage an emerging relationship as the main conflict of your books (sometimes I try but I’ve always gotta put in a big snake or a haunted water feature) – what’s your approach to developing romance dynamics in your writing?

MAXWELL: I love deconstructing romance arcs. It’s a good example of something I could never get right when I started out, so I spent years trying to improve it. Different people have different bits of the writing toolkit when they get into the game (I’ve read Silver in the Wood; Emily was apparently born with the romance kit), but having to put work into something does give you a huge appreciation for what you like and an iron-clad knowledge of what you want to put on the page.

For me, it starts out very simple. You have a flawed character. Everyone else looks at them and thinks, oh, a normal person. Except another main character, who gets to know them and goes: holy shit, this thing you do is amazing and hot – which your first character doesn’t recognise, because to them it is Tuesday. This happens both ways round, and now you have pining. Then life comes at them hard (or in the case of Winter’s Orbit, a murder investigation and an irate press officer), and they both use their skills as a crowbar to crack that problem apart while the other one hands them screwdrivers and tries to remember not to stand there with their mouth open. Now you have accomplices, which is even better than pining. Then they start to trust not only in the other one’s skills, but that the other one will use those skills for the partnership—for them. Now you have a relationship built on a rock-solid foundation, and incidentally a team that everyone else looks at and decides is not worth messing with.

The draw for me is always a whole greater than the sum of its parts. Separately they have flaws and chips and a few veins of gold. Together they are brilliant.

TESH: I am so glad Ev had a smart answer because mine is just ‘and then… they kiss’ and that’s a plot, right.

LARKWOOD: you’re both right, and also witches. I didn’t even know there was going to be a romance subplot in Unspoken until like, the third draft.

Q: LARKWOOD: Both your books take place in a setting which puts interesting pressure on those characters, whether it’s the forest primeval or a bureaucratic labyrinth of space offices. For me one of the great pleasures of writing SFF is that you can shape the world however you like (you will notice that in The Unspoken Name and sequel I somehow managed to construct an entire setting around big snakes and bad ponds). How do you approach worldbuilding?

MAXWELL: There are dozens of ways to approach worldbuilding, obviously, but I think the commonality is like growing pearls: you pick a grain of truth and irritate everyone around you until it turns into something that looks shiny from far away but smells fishy close up. That metaphor got away from me. What I mean is you tend to write what you know, which is an old and hackneyed statement but says something useful about how we can get from blank pages to spaceships.

I don’t know what it’s like to live in a multi-planet space empire. But I do know, intimately, how large bureaucracies work and the multitude of ways they go wrong. I know what snow looks like through glass on a night when you’re already tired and can’t escape to bed for several more hours, which means I know something about the climate and the rhythm of the day. I know how someone sufficiently charming can avoid learning the requisition system and just walk around security controls, which means I know what that requisition and security system looks like. And that gets built out in layers: every time you add an element, you think through more of its consequences, like layering colour on a page. You can very successfully build a world by starting with mountain ranges and rain shadows, obviously. But alternately you could just start with a deep well of creative frustration at the millionth time you’ve filled out Form 34-B, and build it up from there.

Q: TESH: We have joked at various times about our ‘casts of thousands’ – a phrase I think we stole from an essay by Diana Wynne Jones, discussing her short story Carol Oneir’s Hundredth Dream, where the same tiny group of characters are the ‘actors’ in hundreds of different dream narratives. I know I reuse characters or character types from story to story – spot the Large Sad Man in everything I write – but what about you? Who are your cast-of-thousands characters? What are the advantages of reusing a character type rather than lovingly handcrafting each new character from scratch?

LARKWOOD: I guess for the same reason that it’s easier to buy a box of watercolours than to grind your own pigments from the raw earth? The way you mix and apply them is what’s interesting, unless being the guy who makes his own paints is your whole thing – a cool thing, don’t get me wrong, but not everyone needs to write Ulysses.

Anyway I freely admit to this. The antagonist of The Unspoken Name first showed up in a comic I made when I was 14 in which he was an immortal demon overlord and drug baron, which seems like a bit of an unwieldy career combination now I think about it. 

If I’m remembering correctly, Carol Oneir’s cast eventually goes on strike because of how clunkily she deploys them as stock characters – the lesson I take from this is that you can get away with dropping your immortal demon overlord in anywhere as long as you hide him well enough.

To be continued…

Stay tuned for Part 2 of this conversation, coming at you in February 2021.

Winter’s Orbit is now available for pre-order. Drowned Country and The Unspoken Name are available wherever books are sold.

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