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superhellstiel · 4 months ago

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The Season 8 Destiel Meta Post Nobody Asked For (and why I think the writers had a Destiel endgame option in mind for season 8)

Okay, so here's the long version of this post that almost nobody wanted, but I'm writing it anyway. This is LONG. I'm sorry. And I want to start with it seems like s8 is polarizing, but I rather liked it, and I think it's because I live in the (delusion?) truth of this theory. Stay with me if you want to Believe too. I think Season 8 was written with two possible outcomes in mind; and with an endgame Destiel being the more likely of the two that the writers anticipated. Sounds insane, I am aware. You will need to stick with me here and extend some trust, but I promise I can show my work.

We need to set the scene: It's 2012. We are launching headfirst into the height years of tumblr fan culture. Gangnam Style grips the nation. Destiel is huge in fanfiction & tumblr land. However, interestingly, we're about two years past show's peak. Already once SPN was slated to end with S5's natural arc conclusion, but it didn't-- it was renewed because it was making the CW money, simple as. They have pushed on into the Sera Gamble era with Seasons 6 and 7, which have their respective flashes of brilliance, but all-in-all generally struggled to find footing in the post-Apocalypse Supernatural verse that was never actually planned for. It's pretty evident that the writing and plotting isn't nearly as tight as S1-5, simply because 1-5 was all mapped out from the get go.

It's been interesting returning to the fandom after a decade, because I'm finding a lot of people now who really liked Season 7. No hate, to each their own, and maybe it was just the circles I was in at the time, but in the moment S7 wasn't received well at all. It felt like they kept inflating the "big bad" to heights that sometimes struggled to get fully fleshed out (which, to be fair, continues to be a writing problem going forward). And while watching S7 in Netflix binge-mode it doesn't feel quite so bad, at the time having a year's worth of your fave TV show where Sam and Dean are systematically and pointlessly stripped of everything that gave the show its signature personality was nothing short of torture (killing Cas, the Impala, torching Bobby's place, killing Bobby), all in the name of more man-pain. All of that punctuated with a lot of filler episodes that felt like more misses than hits, the absolutely insufferable Amy Pond plot, and dick jokes just because the writers thought it was funny.

Everyone's opinions on S6-7 aside, though, Supernatural wasn't landing financially for the CW either. Season 5 aired on Thursday nights, which is a fairly well respected time slot for established and successful shows, but with Season 6 and 7 we see a demotion to Friday night, 9 PM ET. This is basically the kiss of death for a cable TV show. You sent your shows to Friday night to die. The CW was looking to the future with newer shows and the writing was on the walls that this circus was probably wrapping up soon.

However, in true Supernatural fashion, it wouldn't fucking die. Honestly, and I can only speculate here, I imagine such a die-hard and still-growing fanbase coinciding with a huge spike in social media + ease of access to fan spaces with the surge in commonplace smart phones/laptop computers is probably what kept performing CPR on this show.

So along comes season 8. The show is being passed to Jeremy Carver and Ben Edlund as a returning writer to head up the show. Other people have discussed the Sera Gamble era in depth, but what you need to know here, basically, is that the Carver/Edlund mind are ones that a) have not shied away from queer themes and b) are a lot of those Destiel classics. We're talking Ghostfacers, The End, My Bloody Valentine, On the Head of a Pin, The Man Who Would Be King (Carver), and Free to Be You and Me, Point of No Return (Edlund). Essentially, Sera's philosophy tended to be "strip it back to just the Winchester brothers" and Carver & Edlund were generally more open to having the surrounding cast of supporting characters. And these two definitely don't shy away from Dean & Castiel's relationship.

Here is where my theory gets a little speculative: I believe this is the point where where SPN was given one last hail mary by the CW. New writers and a Wednesday night slot, you have one more chance to make this work, otherwise you're getting the axe. It was renewed pretty late, in early May of 2012 (compare to S6 being announced Feb 2010). S7 had barely scraped its renewal in late April the year prior, too.

Okay, so let's put ourselves in that position for a moment as showrunners sitting down in the Supernatural writer's room in May of 2012. There are two things that might happen: 1) you just might pull it off, and you do such a good job you pull the show from the proverbial grave or 2) you don't pull it off, and you need to make sure the show ends on a satisfying note that wraps things up neatly. And you need to write and film a season that, until you get the yes or no from the CW, can do either and both or neither, and you may need to pivot in one direction or the other pretty quickly while you're filming the back half of your season.

Enter the Destiel endgame theory, which I believe was their scenario 2. Time to introduce the exhibits from the season.

General: Flashbacks. I wish they'd explored Purgatory more too, but it would've taken up too much time if they might have to fast-track a series finale later. (Also Amelia should've been all made up in Sam's head to cope with losing Dean but again, different post. Maybe it became a time constraint to explore too much too, if they thought the show might be ending.)

The evidence:

8x01 We Need to Talk About Kevin & 8x02 - & What's Up Tiger Mommy? We get flashbacks of Dean tearing Purgatory apart to find Castiel. When he finds him, he makes it clear he's coming back to Earth with him.

8x03 - Heartache- This episode focuses on the love between an immortal being and a human.

8x05 - Blood Brother - Benny/Queer Dean discourse deserves its own post. You can take or leave this one for this post's theory.

8x07 - A Little Slice of Kevin - 1) Dean is clearly hiding a boner when Cas gets out of the shower? 2) We introduce that Dean is deeply upset that Castiel didn't make it through the portal-- to the degree he's faked an entire memory because he'd rather it be his fault Cas is gone than have been abandoned by him

8x08 - Hunteri Heroici - Castiel wants to join Dean as a hunter; we're beginning to establish Castiel's genuine desire to spend his life with the Winchesters. This is then juxtaposed when Naomi forces him to stay away at the end of the episode, further telling us this is Cas' desire vs. Heaven's.

8x11 - Larp and the Real Girl - This is mostly a fun episode, but it's an example of queerness being gently nudged to the forefront of plots without immediate dismissal or being the butt of a joke-- rare for SPN at the time.

8x13 - Everybody Hates Hitler - Ah, the Aaron "He was my Gay Thing" moment. Dean leans all the way into the flirting. Does not give the "don't swing that way" speech, gets flustered, is at a loss for words. He appears disappointed later when he was wrong. This has little precedent on the show when Dean's been perceived as gay, he usually dismisses it very quickly.

February 11, 2013: Supernatural is renewed for season 9, a week after Everybody Hates Hitler airs.

Per these estimates, 8x18 is the next episode to be filmed post-announcement, beginning 2/12.

8x16 - Remember the Titans - A Forbidden Love plot. You can take or leave this one for this theory.

8x17 - Goodbye Stranger - OK, here is our inflection point for editing, in my opinion. The last month of eps, more or less, have been pretty trials-centric or one-off. This episode airs 3/20/2013. At this point, we know we're getting a season 9, but we've been building with all of the above, and this ep was filmed pre-S9 announcement... so much so that we have an "I love you" in the original script for the infamous crypt scene. I fully believe it was filmed and edited out in post.

Second, Castiel turns the walls of Naomi's office/lobotomy lounge the bi pride colors during the crypt scene. Someone on the crew at Supernatural literally tweeted that morning to be on the lookout for special choices in Naomi's office. It was very intentional. Why else pick these colors and declare they're intentional? (I have searched up and down for this tweet but it was rare i was there i remember it [the tweet] all too well please trust me)

UPDATE: Tumblr hive mind found it and it was Jerry Wanek saying they were… crosses? In the intersecting lines in the windows? (that's how lines work? lol) And it was amidst a spell of saying fans were reaching in their analyses, and though some of his replies have that tinge, it's not direct about the color commentary. I never saw the back half of that saga or forgot about it, didn’t mean to misrepresent anything! Either way I’ve been corrected but that office is still bisexual and you can’t tell me otherwise

And don't get me started on the "unicorn" stuff, that one person you'd throw everything away for (but I understand this can be interpreted in many ways) However, the season is renewed, we've picked the path they never thought they'd actually pull off-- now we've got to backpedal this Destiel just enough to not impact our precious CW bottom lines, but not piss off our faction of fangirls who watch to ship.

8x20 - Pac Man Fever - Charlie tells Dean she thinks Castiel seems "dreamy". Charlie is very gay and would only say this to elicit a reaction from Dean, we don't really get much of one. Again, lack of a "speech" on his sexuality.

*Note 8x18 Freaks & Geeks and 8x20 Pac Man Fever are filler eps, I think they could've been pulled if we needed the extra time to sprint toward a series finale*

8x21 - The Great Escapist - 8x23 Sacrifice- We hit a real fast escalation toward the season finale from here. I actually think this overarching plot was more or less always the idea for the ending, but how exactly it was executed depended on the renewal status.

The Alternate Series Finale Ending (That I believe they thought they'd have to do when they wrote it): If they hadn't gotten renewed, we are set up for Sam to close the gates of Hell and Metatron to use a spell to close Heaven using the heart of a nephilim (product of human + angel love), the bow a cupid (an angel that arranges love in humans), and the grace of an angel in love with a human. Hell and Heaven shutter up, Sam dies, and Dean is left with a human Castiel who has, for the better part of the season, already been "testing out" being a hunter alongside Dean and has literally moved heaven and earth to have this. He will not have to be the immortal doomed to love a human, as in 8x03, or have the forbidden love of 8x16; we receive resolution on those subjects for our heroes that the monster-of-the-week characters did not. They resolve their feelings for each other, because if we kept Dean's crypt "I love you" and we establish Castiel's grace was in love with a human... well, what else is there to say? (Oh, yes, and they did exactly this and pulled the Destiel trigger in S15 when it was all ending.)

The Actual Ending (That I think they got surprised about the renewal and had to do): Backpedal. Edit. Only drop little subtext again. We just need Castiel's Regular Grace TM for this spell. We can keep selling merch and con tickets and get views if we appeal to the widest audience possible, and we're not taking risks now that we've performed a literal miracle rescue from a Friday night 9 PM slot.

And once we start Season 9, we get a LOT of being hit over the head with Castiel & Dean's Heterosexuality TM, so much so it's awkward and even out of character. (Human Cas sighing about boobs in early s9? Like please. Get real.) It's a HARD left turn, but it makes more sense if you consider it all in the context above. I just don't think they'd have gone in so hard on the bullet points I listed if they had thought Season 9 was in the bag.

TL;DR: I think we might've had Destiel in 2013, but if we had, we wouldn't have also had the rest of the seasons. Whether or not that's a good thing is up to you, but I think it was a combination of a lot of external factors, capitalism, and, well, it being 2013, sadly. I think they were cowards about it, but at the same time, even the writers probably weren't pulling every string, they also needed to answer to other agendas. Television is a medium that is rife with the push and pulls of a thousand factors that aren't the pure story. Idk how to really wrap this, but this has been over ten years in the making so enjoy the fruits of my brain rot.

#spn #spn meta #supernatural #destiel #destiel meta #you asked #do you regret it #i spent two hours on this

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just-dreaming-marvel · 1 month ago

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Love That Burns ~ Ending 2 ~ 49

LOVE THAT BURNS MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 1,870ish

Summary: You and Laura find yourselves in The Void.

Notes: This is basically a filler chapter. I'm sorry if I skipped a lot, I wanted to get to the official scenes, plus I have a lot planned for after the movie scenes are done and want to get to those! I hope you still enjoy it! Please remember to review the timeline posted here.

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

With a flick of her wrists, the bald woman used her powers to pull you and Laura up to your feet. You groaned at the quick forced moments.

“Interesting,” the bald woman mumbled, studying you. Her long pointer finger hooked under her chin, earning a growl from Laura. “You’re Y/N… An Ember. Aren’t you a rare find. Haven’t seen one of you around here, or even your counterpart, Wolverine.” She pulled back and looked at Laura. “And you are a rare sight as well. X-23. Laura.”

“Who are you?” You asked, completely confused about what happened and where you were.

“Oh, my apologies, I’m Cassandra Nova and you’re in the Void.”

“The Void?”

“A place where the TVA sends people they deem as troublemakers from various places in the multiverse.”

“The TVA?” Laura questioned.

Cassandra sighed. “Don’t you two know anything?”

You studied the woman in front of you, there was something familiar about her. “Do I know you?”

Cassandra laughed. “No, but you may have met a version of my brother, Charles.”

“Charles is your brother?”

“In some universes.”

Your mind was reeling. Multiple universes? Multiple Charles? Charles has a sister? Cassandra smirked as she could see your mind trying to catch up. You could feel her slithering around in your mind, despite your best efforts to keep her out. She stepped tauntingly closer to you, making Laura try to find against her hold.

“Show me a flame,” Cassandra whispered, knowingly. “Show me.”

“Don’t do it, mom!” Laura implored. “Don’t—“

“Quiet!” Cassandra forced Laura to quiet down. “Seems like your daughter knows your little secret. You’re not as strong as you once were. Maybe you’re no use to me at all.”

“You want a flame?” You responded quietly. “I’ll give you a flame.”

You let out a shout as you used your whole body to blast Cassandra with fire. Her grip loosened on you and Laura, causing you two to fall to the ground. Laura moved quickly, tightening her backpack on her shoulders before pulling you up.

“We got to run!” She said, pulling you along.

You hated how weak you felt after that, but you knew you had to keep going. Laura pulled you into the woods, allowing you both to miss the group of people that joined Cassandra.

“Do you want us to get ‘em?”

“No,” Cassandra waved him off. “They’ll come find me eventually. I’m the only one who can help that Ember with her little fire problem.”

~~~

Laura kept dragging you through the woods until she felt it was safe enough to stop.

“Sit,” she ordered, her tone leaving no room for argument.

You sat against a large tree, catching your breath. Your hands clenched into fists as you tried to push the pain away.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Laura said, shaking her head. “That was too dangerous.”

“I’m fine, sweetie,” you told her, plastering a small smile on your face.

Laura scoffed. “You know, I’ve known for a few years now that your powers have started to cause you pain.”

“Laura—“

“No. You shouldn’t have done that. I could have gotten us out of there.”

You reached over and took her hand. “I’m sorry. For using my powers like that and for thinking I could keep the truth about them a secret from you.”

“I understand why you did it, kept it a secret. You haven’t used your powers much since Dad died. There’s been really no need.”

“Yes, but you deserved to know. I’m sorry.”

Laura gave your hand a squeeze. “We should keep moving. She’s probably hunting us down.”

You shook your head. “No, she would have found us already. She let us go.”

“What for?”

“I don’t know, but something tells me that her not hunting us down is much worse.”

“Still, we should keep going.”

Laura stood up before reaching down and taking your hands. She pulled you and you tugged her into a hug. Laura melted into your embrace, allowing herself to relax. You let yourself hold your daughter for a moment, forgetting the predicament you were in.

“We’re going to get through this,” you whispered. “Together.”

~~~

The Void was a weird place. No part of it made any sense. Climates were merged together. Random buildings, ships, planes, and vehicles were scattered about. Sometimes, they would just fall from the sky, seemingly out of nowhere. And, so far, you and Laura hadn’t run into anyone else sense your run in with Cassandra. The two of you were able to find food in the abandoned buildings that you passed.

Days seemed to run weird here as well. You thought it had been four days since you arrived, but you were unsure. All you knew is that you and Laura had been seemingly brought here for a reason that you had yet to figure out. Laura and you found a spot to camp for the night. You flicked your wrist, forming a flame nearby. You sighed as the tinge of pain that radiated through your hand. You could see Laura’s concern from the corner of your eye.

“Dad would hate for you to be feeling like this,” Laura mumbled.

“Yeah, well, your father’s not here,” you retorted.

“What would he say? About… your pain.”

You thought back to all those years ago. 2013. When Logan told you what he had found out about your phoenix power, that too many times would start to kill your power. To kill you. It was one of his worst fears and he wasn’t even around to try to prevent it.

“Logan would have gotten angry that I even tried to hide it. He would have noticed something was wrong from the first sign of pain… He knew me too well… We would have fought about me using my abilities and he would have won. He would have looked at me with those eyes… looking at me like I was the world.” Your eyes fell to the ring still on your hand, feeling like it was burning a brand to your skin. “He would have begged me to stop using my powers, telling me that I was the only thing he was living for. And I would have stopped for the most part. For him… I would have done anything for him.” Laura reached over and grabbed your hand. “I— I haven’t told anyone this, but it’s my biggest regret… that we buried him with the dog tags. I wasn’t in the right mind to think about taking them from him… I used to cling to those for comfort, and now… now I rely too much on you and this ring to keep be afloat.” You looked over at Laura with tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry if I haven’t been the person you needed. I’m sorry if I’ve asked too much of you… if I relied too much on you.”

“No, mom,” Laura moved closer. “You’ve been just what I’ve needed.” She rested her head on your shoulder and you rested your head on hers. “I miss him.”

“Me, too, sweetie… so much.”

“He would have hated it here.”

You laughed. “He would be complaining the whole time, but always making sure that we were taken care of.”

“I think he’d still not be okay with sharing you.”

“Not at all. But I’d force him… there’s always enough of me to go around.”

Laura sighed. “I love you, mom.”

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

~~~

Laura woke up to footsteps, branches crunching underneath. She opened one eye slightly, taking in her surroundings. You were still sound asleep beside her. She believed that you needed your rest and wasn’t about to have someone attack you in your sleep. Laura noticed it was a woman sneaking up on the two of you. A woman with long brown hair in a maroon leather outfit. The woman had two blades, twirling in her hands. The woman went to lean down but before she could get too close, Laura had launched herself at the woman.

You woke up to see that Laura had pinned a woman down not far from where you were laying. You sat up.

“Laura!” You exclaimed.

“Who are you?” Laura asked the woman she had pinned.

“I should be asking that of you!” The woman retorted. “Are you one of Cassandra’s minions?”

“Cassandra?” You repeated. “No! We are trying to get away from her. Laura, let her go.” Laura stood up, leaving the woman on the ground. “I’m Y/N. This is my daughter, Laura. We were sent here to the—the Void and we don’t know why. We ran into Cassandra briefly but we were able to get away.”

The woman stood up, brushing the dirt off of herself. “I’m Elektra.”

“It’s nice to meet you, under the circumstances.”

“Yes. How long have you two been out here?”

“A few days, we think.”

“That’s a long time for the Void. Impressive.” The three of you fell silent as she studied the two of you. “Come on.” She motioned her to the nearby path. “There’s a group of us trying to survive here and perhaps defeat Cassandra one day. There’s safety where we are.”

Laura and you shared a look, like you were reading each other’s thoughts.

“Okay,” you agreed. “Let’s go.”

~~~

You followed Elektra to a cement building, built into the ground. Inside, it was a makeshift home. There you met Gambit, Blade, and Johnny. They explained to you that they were sent here because the TVA decided that their universes were dying and didn’t want them to fight for it. Laura and you could only figure that your reason for being sent here were the same. They told you that there used to be more of them, but each one of the others had gone against Cassandra and never came back.

The five of you became a weird little family as the days turned into weeks. You learned more about their universes and you shared about yours. You kept the usage of your powers at bay, not wanting to push yourself too much.

“I think we should go out and search,” you said.

“If Johnny’s not back yet, that’s on him,” Blade stated.

“Cassandra probably ended him, Chere,” Gambit added.

“Don’t care,” you replied. “We should still look.”

“I’ll help you, mom,” Laura offered. “I’ll take the East, you take the West.”

“Thanks, kiddo. Let’s get going.”

~~~

Laura hadn’t been gone more than a few hours when she stumbled across the Honda Odyssey. Like stalking a prey, she moved towards it. Peeking inside it, she saw that it was all bloodied and cut up. There were two unconscious men laying in the van, one was tied up with seatbelts and the other made Laura freeze for a second. The face was so familiar, though she knew it wasn’t him. For a brief moment, Laura was torn. She knew she should bring them back for their safety and to see what was going on, but she feared what seeing a version of Logan—of your husband—could do to you.

Staring at the man’s face for a moment longer, Laura decided. She got into the Honda Odyssey, started it up, and drove off.

next chapter >

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vidavalor · 3 months ago

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I've had to disconnect from my dash because of all the negativity; I honestly do not get why people are acting like a semblance of justice+a movie is the worst thing in the world?

I'm mourning for the full six-episode season we lost because ng couldn't pass the utmost basic sub-zero bar for not acting like scum and of course I wish amazon had kicked him out and then sprung for it anyway (and honestly, as long as you're blaming the right person, I think it's fine to feel upset? We deserved better, the cast and crew deserved, Terry deserved better, and this one guy ruins it for everyone because the bar was buried six feet deep beneath the ground and he still managed to go lower, and that does suck, and it is miserable and unfair, so take a moment if you need it 🤷‍♀️) but let's face it, we got off lucky. Arguably, considering this was a standalone novel from the nineties, that then got made, in one of the best book adaptations I've ever seen, into a limited standalone tv miniseries (and, again, emphasising the standalone here, so even if it all goes to hell in a handbasket, we'll still always have S1 and the book; people have been ignoring the Jurassic Park sequels for nearly three decades), and then got a surprise sequel, we were pretty lucky the whole way through.

And regarding the whole what if it's bad thing, I was always going to be worried: I was anxious long before this shit went down, and I was anxious before S2 and even S1, as well. It's not like we ever had any guarantee it was going to be good beforehand either, and at this point, knowing what we do now, I'm not at all sure I'd have trusted ng to write this anyways. So while, yeah sure, I'm maybe a little more anxious now, I trust Michael and David with these characters and I trust Rob and Rhianna with Terry's legacy and story and that they wouldn't have fought so hard for this ending unless they planned to keep fighting and thought they could pull it off. Isn't the problem with this kind of thing normally that what happnes is the creator who cares deeply about the work gets pulled in favour of someone out-of-touch who cares not a jot about the story and needs to leave their own grubby fingerprints all over it? More the other way around here, no?

Anyway, what I also wanted to say was that I really appreciated your 'think of it as the final two episodes of season two' (and all your takes on this situation so far, very level-headed and optimistic, thank you). I mean, you're right, and it's hardly wildly out-there for a series to finish on a feature-length special, and although the filler material in S2 and the compression of S3 maybe means it doesn't exactly resemble what the second book would have been, it was only ever meant to be two books. (Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed S2 and was very glad to get it, even though I am a book/S1 fan and also had the most fun in that time fandom pre/post/around the time of the S1 release, but why does it exist? Ego? You can't tell me you couldn't have fit the important parts of S2 into one season with the S3 plotline.)

Basically, I'm grieving the could-have-beens (imagine if he'd been exposed way earlier and the TP estate had had control of this whole production from the very start!) and I'm a little worried that that hurt'll stick around no matter how good S3 is - which I need to fix, because that's more power over my favourite show and what it means to me that I want to give anyone, let alone someone like that - but at the end of day, I do think it definitely can be done with what we have, and I'm choosing to be hopeful it'll be done well, because, well, why wouldn't I?

(I will say this hasn't been great for my faith in humanity, because I really want to believe not all men are shit and some of them are making it very difficult right now, but that's an entirely different problem and so far believing most people are mostly good has always prevailed in the end so. y'know. we'll get there. might reread discworld, that's always good for that.)

Sorry for venting all this at you! I just kinda felt the need to write it all down once to get it off my chest... have a snack on me? I'm partial to cherry tomatoes, green melon and mandarines at the moment (I stop eating salads in winter, which means I default to eating even more fruit) but I can also offer homemade baked goodies fresh from this morning? 🥧

Hi there. 💕 You are welcome to vent away & thank you for the delicious-sounding snacks and kind words. I'm glad my posts on the movie boosted your spirits about it. I agree with and can relate to almost everything that you said here so assume that anything that I don't address just has a 'yes, absolutely' nod happening. 🙂‍↕️

The one thing I want to touch on here is S2 and this idea of it being "filler" that you mentioned that I think might not be quite accurate. I think you (and anyone else who reads this) might feel more enthused about the idea of a good ending in 90 minutes after reading this so hopefully this'll be another way that I can help?

On why S2 is really the whole story and actually had a lot more going on in every way than S1...

Ok, I'm going to explain something that drives writers like myself bonkers 😂 and that is how some readers or viewers of fictional stories mix up plot and story.

Nothing grinds our gears than reading things like "filler" and "unnecessary subplots" because, while everyone is within their rights to have an opinion on written works, 95% of the time, the person who says phrases like this isn't talking about the quality of the work but of its very existence. They're saying "why did we have to read/watch this? it didn't connect to anything" and that's where they are very, very, very... argh, just tell them, Crowley...

...thank you, dear. Right, so, why is it wrong?

Because what many people who don't write don't understand about subplots and more character-driven story arcs is that the writers sat down and decided to do that stuff for very, very specific story reasons. Readers and viewers mistake plot for story. Plot only exists in service of story and, so, all plots exist for a purpose in the story. They're all relevant. In fact, the stuff people usually label as "filler" in a story is really exactly where they should be looking to figure out what the story is saying. If you're big mad about all this time you spent with Maggie and Nina in S2, I'd say you might not still understand what S2 was about because you won't understand Aziraphale's story without understanding both Maggie and Nina's struggles in S2, for example.

A story is the whole, overall thing. It's the meanings, themes, and messages in the work. It's what's being said. It's the ideas being put forth by the piece. It's what it's about. It's different from plot, which is just the stuff the writers are making the characters do or not do in order to tell the story that they are looking to tell. Story is the art; plot is a tool used to make that art. Fiction writers can come at their story from almost anywhere to convey what it is that they are trying to say so there is meaning in the fact that they are choosing to tell their stories the way that they are telling them. They came up with these ideas for reasons.

When you dismiss stuff as filler, you're saying that it's lesser than more in-your-face and bigger plots (when, often, it's very much not), and you're telling a writer how they should have written their own story-- most of the time, without even fully seeing the ending of that story or giving any consideration to why it is that the writer wanted you to read or watch the stuff you're saying wasn't necessary. I'm not arguing that every story is perfect but you aren't getting anywhere near close to being able to evaluate a story if you're not willing to dive into what you were given and consider why it was that you were given those things and what they might mean.

Until the main question that you're asking about every single aspect of a story is "what is this saying?", you're not really fully engaging with a work. You won't get there by dismissing what the artists are telling you is important.

The secret sauce to interpreting fiction are subplots, actually. They exist to help highlight the themes of the main story, often in a slightly more direct way. If you want to understand Good Omens, starting with Ineffable Bureaucracy is actually one of the best ways to get at the core of the themes of the story. It's far from wasted time in the story.

There's actually a funny nod to the importance of subplots in 1941 when Aziraphale references Sophocles, the playwright who basically created the concept of the supporting character whose story mirrors and parallels the main character(s). The mention of Sophocles shows up in S2, the season that brings Gabriel more fully into his purpose as exactly that.

The reason why S2's plot is centered around the honestly pretty easily solvable mystery as to what's happened to Gabriel is because Gabriel, from the get-go, has been the entire story distilled down.

If you follow nothing but Ineffable Bureaucracy in Good Omens, you're going to be closer to getting what it's about and where it's going and what its end game is than you are if you are dismissing it as wasted time when we only have few episodes left. If you haven't yet seen the secret wisdom in Jim-- not to mention understand that Jim and Gabriel are the same person-- then you're probably wigging out more about the movie.

You likely think that S2 was wasted on stuff like Gabriel, or Maggie and Nina's romance, when they should have been getting to Armageddon and The Second Coming already!

You haven't yet noticed that Armageddon has more than one meaning in the series.

It's not always the literal destruction of Earth but also a person's own life crisis. We are all worlds of our own and those worlds can be put at risk if we don't let others in and take care of ourselves and those around us.

When you realize this, you can start to see that S1 goes hard with a freight train of plot all over the place that is related to Armageddon in a more Biblical, apocalyptic sense while it establishes its universe for us but that, once we know how it all works, we can get something like S2... a time where we can step back and start using Armageddon in the more figurative way that the story is also presenting it.

We need to because the story isn't about Heaven or Hell-- it's about being a person. S2 is emphasizing the deeper aspects of the themes and rolling that out at a pace more in line with a person having a few days of inner crisis. When you see that Aziraphale's crisis is the point then you can see how S1 can be about The Four Horsepeople riding to the end of the world and S2 can show War (inner conflict), Pollution (mental health issues), and Famine (symptoms of the other two; lack of food and pleasure and connection; self-starvation and self-denial) as a mental health crisis.

The point is that if you're thinking these characters need to come together to overthrow Heaven and Hell and get to the South Downs Cottage and there's no time slajdflkfwjlkejlje!?!?, then you aren't realizing that not every revolution involves guns and bombs.

People all over the world can start a love train that's far more effective. You might think a subplot about The Hellhound and The Ginger Cat learning to play nice and that they have a fuckton in common and should maybe bury the hatchet and just become eternal bffs already is filler but Crowley and Gabriel aligning is set up for the end game. It's strength in numbers and finding peace and family. They can't overthrow Heaven/Hell without help and Gabriel is the Supreme Archangel. They literally will never have a South Downs Cottage ending without a plot that helped Crowley and Aziraphale see that Gabriel and Beez are on their side.

This is the revolution in Good Omens:

It will take all the characters coming together to overthrow Heaven/Hell and set up something new for us to get a happy ending and we absolutely will. S2 is Gabriel-centric because Gabriel is the key to all of the characters getting a peaceful ending and because he's a split-directly-down-the-middle mirror of both Crowley and Aziraphale. In a season that is more about Aziraphale's inner Armageddon than about an external threat, Gabriel is vital to telling that story. The plot of S2 is every bit as important to the story as S1. I'd argue that it's even more important because takes the time to go at the themes in a slower, deeper way. It needs to because it's a story of a fall that sets up for a story in S3 of a recovery from one.

Good Omens is the absolute perfect combination of a show that is both very, very detail-oriented and full of depth while also being, secretly, an incredibly simple story. I do not mean simple in a negative way but in a chef's kiss sort of way. Simple in a tight and elegant sort of way. This is something that I think some people might not see when they're theorizing but it's something to keep in mind ahead of the movie. Not just because the movie is shorter-- this would have been relevant if we were having a longer S3, too.

Good Omens has a very engaged fan base that looks for the details, yes. *raises hand* I'm one of them lol. And there will be plenty to pour over in the movie, but... the big thing to keep in mind is that your theory needs to be something that is simple, that can be explained in under a handful of scenes, tops, and that is focused on where Aziraphale's story arc is going above anything and everything else.

If you're beginning with time loops and the birth of a new antichrist baby, I'm telling you from ages of experience reading and writing stories, you're going to be way off. If you are over here composing theories of the story that you are arguing are correct and this theory involves, idk... *makes something up* Crowley is really Elvis and Elvis is really The Bentley and when a rainbow hits Whickber Street at exactly 4 minutes into the new season, Satan will be revealed to really be Jesus, I think maybe you might be missing the point of the details that the show has given already. Like the plot, these details exist to reinforce the themes of the story. Story beats everything else-- it's what this is all about.

And what Good Omens is about? Is best summed up by Michael Sheen, in this single sentence that I really, really agree with and have paraphrased more than once in posts:

Good Omens is about the business of living. It's about the human experience, which is the experience of being a person. Everything related to Heaven and Hell and good and evil and Armageddon and supernatural things is plot that only exists to highlight a story about the complexities of being a person.

The supernatural is human and the human is supernatural.

That is what Good Omens is about.

While Crowley and Aziraphale are built as two halves of a whole and are both main characters, Aziraphale is the main character from a technical, story perspective, because he is the character whose story arc is driving both the plot and story forward. He's heading for a happy ending with Crowley in the South Downs by the end of the film. If you're making theories, start with what kind of plot would truly get him there and still fit with all of the themes of the story.

This 'it's about being a person' business is why if you look at S2 as filler and not as a season that is exploring the continuing themes on a deeper level, you're still worried about things like there being no time in a movie to show the story of a new antichrist kid being born or how they're going to fit the whole Second Coming into the movie. You don't yet see that Aziraphale parallels Adam and that being an antichrist is basically just being a person and that Aziraphale is presently the antichrist in the story. There is no antichrist child yet to be born. They won't be cutting it because it's not the story.

Armageddon since S2 has been Aziraphale's own personal one and the story from the end of S2 on is now how, if all the other characters can't come together to help him, it could also trigger Armageddon of the S1, Earth-destroying kind. It's tying a more literal Armageddon into a more figurative one. Because this story is about being a person so Armageddon is just metaphorical for going through a mental health crisis and shutting people out.

This story's themes include that every person matters and we all have to let others in and look out for one another. That there's strength in numbers. That found family and adopted family is as much family as biological family-- often, even more so. That labelling and categorizing people is bullshit and you should always open the cover and read the first sentences of people and help people whose stories begin with the same letters find one another. That it might be surprising who has things in common. It's about all of Heaven and Hell versus all of humanity, in the sense that ideas of being a perfect angel or being seen as an evil demon are concepts felt by human beings that get in the way of peace and healthy, happy living, but that fighting them is a common, human struggle, regardless of from where you come.

If you are too focused on the religious plot being the center of the film, you haven't yet seen the meaning of why the end of S1 was an eleven year old kid saving the world by telling off the bio-dad that was never there for him. You might be one of the people who thought this a silly, anti-climatic ending to that story, and don't yet realize that this is the entire story in a nutshell.

Adam can only reject Satan and keep the darkness at bay because he is surrounded-- here, literally-- by a family that supports him. He has good people for parents and was lucky enough to grow up with resources that all kids in this world should have. He has an absolutely terrific group of friends. He has this witch lady and her boyfriend and these two gay uncles that just showed up out of nowhere 😂 and his human incarnate self has what it needs to make it through this crisis, in this moment, even if he'll probably have others throughout his life, just like all of us. He's not evil incarnate and he doesn't have to be perfect-- he's just a person.

Aziraphale tells Adam this but struggles to see himself in the same way. That's what S2 is about.

S2 is about that other kid who, like Adam, breaks the season down into a single line of dialogue, David Tennant's apparent favorite from the season:

Jemimah knows who she is and she is happy to claim ownership over her art and contributions to the world. She's living her life with excitement and enthusiasm in a way that gets more complicated as we become traumatized adults. Crowley and Aziraphale struggle with this. They have been making a life together on Earth for thousands of years and each struggle, in their own ways, to truly accept that they are people who are allowed to have a life because they struggle to accept that they are people, just like everyone else.

Their story is about getting to a better place with that. That's really all Good Omens fundamentally is. That's why their ending is going to be to go live in a little cottage together that isn't a business that covers up an angelic embassy that covers up a secret love den. It's just their house-- theirs together for the life they're going to live openly together.

If you want some peace with the film, I'd advise throwing over your theories about The Second Coming and Armageddon needing to happen and antichrist kids and how Jesus fits into everything. Jesus in Good Omens is Crowley romancing Aziraphale at the crucifixion and Aziraphale using what Jesus said to Crowley to reject temptation as invitation to fuck him. I thought Jesus in a single scene or less was the most likely thing for S3 and the same holds for the movie. It's not the story. The only time The Second Coming is mentioned in S2 is by the villain and, to get there, Earth would have to first be destroyed. It won't be.

If the story is about being a messy human walking the Earth and we're in the end game now, then the story is about Aziraphale and only Aziraphale. Everything-- everything-- will be in service of Aziraphale's story arc. We already had just a few episodes with S3 and we now have even less time but the way this is going is still the same. The story is Aziraphale's fall and the other characters coming together to challenge Heaven to keep Aziraphale from eternity in Hell. That's how Armageddon is stopped this time around-- overthrowing Heaven with Aziraphale's fate as the motivation to take on The Metatron. It's nothing to do with Jesus. It's everything to do with Aziraphale.

When you see that, you can see how feasible that is in 90 minutes, with plenty of time for things like 1941, Part 3 and other flashbacks.

I think, when all is said and done, you might wind up appreciating S2 more after the film but you can get there already if you start looking at it less as meaningless fluff and start asking why it is that we were shown this story, in this way, and what that can tell us about the story we're watching.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #aziracrow #good omens meta #good omens finale #ineffable bureaucracy #the archangel fucking gabriel

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asarigg · 2 months ago

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Character Design: Part 3

TATTOO

Moving to his tattoo, most of the information related to Buddhism is a copy paste of this tumblr post, alongside other elements, which if I hadn’t read I wouldn’t have noticed these things because I’m not familiar with it at all, but I added a few things:

The tattoo covering most of his body is a tribal style tattoo, with thick lines that flow with the anatomy of the body. Truth is that for a long time I thought that this tattoo was somewhat of a filler, I was trying to see what else here was relevant, and it wasn’t until I saw this picture of the tattoo spread out that it clicked.

At first, and honestly now too, I thought that maybe it was kind of a stretch (it wouldn’t be me if I didn’t doubt everything I do or think all the time huh), but I can’t unsee it now. This part of the tattoo is made to look like a bird, or parts of one. The symmetrical spread out looks like a bird with its wings open, the beak on top and its tail following the length of his arm. Other parts of the tattoo follow the flow of the feathers, the side profile of birds, even the one on his legs looks like two wings wrapping it, more obvious when looking at it from behind. With a quick search you find very simple examples that already resemble these shapes.

Recently imadhatt3r read the essay and suggested that the shapes on his chest reminded her to the Japanese phoenix Hou-ou, Hōō, or similar variations (ほうおう). It has its origin in China, called Feng Huang (鳳凰), where it was adopted as one of the symbols of the imperial household, particularly the empress, with the mythical bird representing fire, the sun, justice, obedience, fidelity and the southern star constellations. According to the legend, the Hou-ou appears on very specific occasions, the beginning of a new era, like the birth of a virtuous ruler.

In other traditions it appears only in peaceful and prosperous times, and it's said they nest in paulownia trees, hiding when there’s trouble. It's a symbol of peace when appearing, and disharmony when disappearing. In China the phoenix (female) is intimately associated with the Dragon (male), they’re either mortal enemies, or blissful lovers (while the phoenix represents fire, the dragon represents water, and would also be representative of the emperor instead). Males would be denominated Feng, and females Huang. This phoenix is the ruler of all birds, and it’s a mix of different species, including non-bird animals. They all would color the phoenix with the five colors of the Chinese elements: white, black, red, yellow and blue. I’ve read they have five distinct feathers on its tail, on other sites I've read twelve, like the twelve months.

Apparently, while it used to be represented next to paulownia trees and bamboo, it was gradually replaced with peonies, cherry blossoms, chrysanthemums and seasonal Japanese wild flowers.

The sparrow/bird motif couldn’t be more obvious and recurrent in his character, it’s in his kimono, in his name, his AllMate, in his back tattoo. It’s no surprise that they played with this idea here as well. Birds in general are seen as symbols of freedom, being able to fly wherever they want. Koujaku was basically born a slave, and from day one he has sought and fought for his and his mother’s freedom, desperate, and being punished for it. The day this tattoo was completed, he would never be free again. How ironic, isn’t it?

Even these designs hold a resemblance too to these birds. And the design of Koujaku on the right compared to Beni.

The symbol inside the circle on his shoulder and knee is the seed syllable of the sanskrit alphabet “a” (अ). In Buddhism “a” is the seed syllable for the mantras associated with Vairochana Buddha, one of the Five Great Buddhas. He is represented in the center of the mandala and with color white, he is considered the personification of the Dharmakaya (cosmic body of Buddha, the everything, the complete wisdom, enlightenment and universal compassion), he is the supreme and primordial Buddha. Dharma cannot be translated into a single word, but it is understood that it refers to behaviors and actions that are in harmony with the laws of life, the cosmos, virtues or religious moral duties, and are the teachings of Buddha.

The Wisdom associated with “a” is that which can create or deny, and if it’s added as a prefix it makes the word have the opposite meaning. For example, when adding “a” to “moral”, it creates “amoral” which is the opposite. Vidya means wisdom, avidya is ignorance.

The Buddha Vairochana appears in the Brahmajala Sutra, or the Brahma Net Sutra:

Now, I, Vairochana Buddha am sitting atop a lotus pedestal;

On a thousand flowers surrounding me are a thousand Shakyamuni Buddhas.

Each flower supports a hundred million worlds; in each world a Shakyamuni Buddha appears.

All are seated beneath a Bodhi-tree, all simultaneously attain Buddhahood.

All these innumerable Buddhas have Vairochana as their original body.

He is also mentioned in the Avatamsaka Sutra or Flower Garland Sutra, where the flower garland represents his many virtues or inspiring glory. The theme of the sutra is the interdependence of all things, “all in one, one in all… There are no divisions in the totality of reality… the universal Buddhahood of all reality”. According to this sutra, the entirety of the cosmos can be observed at any level within that cosmos.

In each dust-mote of these worlds

Are countless worlds and Buddhas…

From the tip of each hair of Buddha’s body

Are revealed the indescribable Pure Lands…

The indescribable infinite Lands

All ensemble in a hair’s tip [of Buddha].

Koujaku’s tattoo has two major connections to Vairochana: the garland of flowers, representative of his virtues, and the use of the Vairochana seed syllable “a”. We also have a symbolic introduction to hair, associated with Vairochana and Koujaku, to which we will return later.

These tattoos were not consensual, they were forced by Ryuuhou’s hand, so why did he choose these elements with such strong Buddhist symbolism?

SHISEI

Ryuuhou’s character is based on a story called “Shisei” or “Tattoo”, by Junichiro Tanizaki in 1910, charged with sadism, cruelty and dark, perversed erotism.

The story is about a tattoo artist named Seikichi, master of tebori, the traditional technique, who, like Ryuuhou, is psychologically disturbed and has a “secret pleasure, secret desire” to see men in agony when he buries his needles into them, and the more they suffer the more pleasurable it was for him. The story tells how he used to be an ukiyo painter, his social status fell and then he became a renowned tattoo artist, tattooing people’s bodies as if they were canvases.

He would even mock the men who screamed the loudest, calling them children, and when someone appeared who endured the pain of his needles, he would assure them that it would be impossible to continue enduring it, which to me it only implies that he would stick the needles in them as deep as possible to make them suffer.

But he was so obsessed with finding the perfect canvas, a woman on whom to tattoo his masterpiece, her own soul. He wanted to tattoo a woman who was not only beautiful on the outside but who also met his expectations with her personality. One day while walking, he thought he had found the perfect woman just by looking at her bare foot, saying to himself: “That foot will be feeding on the fresh blood of the men it will end up trampling on”.

But it would not be until the following year that Seikichi would meet that girl. After showing her some paintings that he believed reflected her, she gets scared and wants to leave, but Seikichi drugs her and puts her to sleep. He would not stop until he finished the tattoo, and he tells the girl that “There will be no woman more seductive than you. There will be no man who is not your victim”. And when she woke up, at the same time that she moved, so did the spider tattooed on her back.

The girl’s personality changed completely, and it is her, his masterpiece, who ends up killing the tattoo artist after fulfilling his last request of seeing her tattoo completed one last time, dying with a smile.

The references are more than obvious. Koujaku’s tattoo as his greatest work, tattooing his soul, his sadistic nature and the purposeful infliction of as much pain as possible during the tattoo sessions (not only it’s a slow and painful technique, but Ryuuhou also stuck the needles deeper than needed. Koujaku himself said that he spent months and months being tattooed, so it’s easy to assume that he purposely made it last longer), the moment of his death, Koujaku’s fainting and change of “personality”, the moment he meets him as a teenager. Not only that, but those references are repeated with Aoba too when he meets him and feels “love at first sight”, when Aoba returns to “his door”, drugs and kidnaps him with the intention of tattooing him.

And of course, there’s also this woman they met when they arrived at Platinum Jail, with a spider tattoo on her face and neck.

Ryuuhou is covered from head to toe, but we can still see a tattoo on his neck of a seahorse. It’s in plain sight and of course it draws attention. Seahorses are known for their unusual way of breeding: the males are the ones that get pregnant and give birth. If I’m not wrong seahorses in Japan are called something like the illegitimate child of the dragon or baby dragon. It could be a symbol of power, unshakable strength, abundance and good luck because of its connection to dragons, a fantastic animal that also appears on Ryuuhou’s kimono and name. But what interests us most is the connection of the seahorse with creation, as a symbol of fatherhood, its capacity of getting pregnant.

RYUUHOU, FORCE OF CREATION

Ryuuhou being tattooed with the image of a male creative force is not an accident. We hear him always talk about creation, about his “greatest work”. “I always knew I would die at the hands of my greatest creation”

Look at the last sentence and think about the recurring duality of creation and destruction. If Ryuuhou is shaped as a creative force, then there has to be a destructive force: Koujaku

The duality of Ryuuhou and Koujaku is told through the visual narration of red vs blue, recurring in many stories and with roots in the red and blue Oni trope, in which the two oni have opposite personalities and have a very different way of seeing the world, often provoking confrontation with one another. The red oni, Koujaku, is associated with passion, wildness and rebellion. A generally outgoing, enthusiastic, determined and lively character.

On the other hand, the blue oni is associated with serenity, control and vigilant authority, resonant with Ryuuhou. The way he presents himself, the way he speaks. Blue ones are more intellectual, proud, traditional, introverted and cultured, sometimes more spiritual. They are usually respected by others, but they often confuse or even intimidate others because they are difficult to read and have a mysterious aura. When there are elemental powers involved in this popular trope, the red oni will of course be associated with fire, and the blue one with water or ice.

Fire cleanses the soul and symbolizes rebirth. It has strong Buddhist connotations, and represents passion, intensity, desire. Water also has purifying properties, used to clean the hands and mouth at the entrance of shrines. It is a strong element that can erode rocks, and represents adaptability, change, perseverance. This is a detail that might not be very important, but I found it curious and why not add it. Note that the lowest point of Aoba and Koujaku’s relationship is marked by the arrival of scheduled rain, and then Ryuuhou coaxes Aoba under it. Seahorses and dragons live in water, and the latter also can control it. The rain comes symbolically, there’s no other reason for it to appear. They don’t use it to create a scene or situation in specific, if they got rid of it not much would change, as it relies on other topics. It’s a sign of the influence and power of Ryuuhou, they’re drenched with it.

#dmmd #koujaku #dramatical murder #koujaku dmmd #essay #ryuuhou #i marked with red the new additions since the publication of the document

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girltiger5000 · 17 days ago

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never finishing this so I’ll just post it now as filler. My interpretation of how the conversation between Swansea and Anya went in the cockpit since I was seeing a lot of those at the time I made this

Was planning to rewrite some of it since it’s not as in character as I’d like it to be (swans) and I also wanted to include more dialogue about Jim. but as I said I don’t think I’ll ever get to finishing this. Sorry about the sloppy writing.

I wanted to show that Swansea isn’t a saint — he’s an older man with more conservative views and is kind of misogynistic. Basically a silent agreement that Anya, Swansea, and Jimmy would die on the ship and let Daisuke get the chance to live

#mouthwashing #anya mouthwashing #jimmy mouthwashing #swansea mouthwashing #my art :p #swansea is so hard to draw….#wanted to include a line that shows anya’s nonviolent traits specifically about jimmy but I ran out of room. whatever…

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dbphantom · 1 year ago

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I'm a OP manga reader, sell me on watching G-8

Sure!

G-8 is post Skypiea filler and starts with the Strawhats landing right in the middle of a walled-in marine base after they fall from the sky island. They have to figure out how to escape this 'impenetrable fortress' with Merry without anyone getting captured or killed.

To do this, most of them go undercover and infiltrate the marines so they can buy time, regroup, and figure out a plan.

It goes about how you'd expect.

(If only Garp could see him now, lol).

The guy on the left in the above picture is this arc's amazing antagonist, Vice Admiral Jonathan.

He is so cool that he cameos in both Stampede and Film Z.

G-8 has some of the funniest jokes in the series, including this iconic scene:

The way it pairs off the Strawhats at the start leads to some great extended interactions between crew members who don't directly talk to each other too often, like Nami and Chopper + Usopp and Robin. They're all very in-character, too.

It also lets the Strawhats show off in their respective areas- Chopper ends up in the medical wing, Usopp works with the shipwright, Sanji is dragged to the kitchens...

[Spoilers in case you're not post Water-7]

It even takes time to emphasize the set-up for the Klabautermann reveal, just to make sure you remember it before the emotional gut punch that is Water-7.

[End spoilers]

It's got a really endearing and memorable cast of side characters as well, who all get roped into the Strawhats' shenanigans.

G-8 also has one of Robin's coolest outfits.

The entire arc is basically a 4D chess match between Jonathan and the Strawhats, except the entire crew is shoveling pieces into Luffy's mouth as fast as they can whenever Jonathan isn't looking.

G-8 is what I show people who want to get into OP, but don't know if they'd enjoy it. It's short (only about 11-12 episodes iirc) and it encompasses everything I really love about early One Piece. I think it's a great litmus test for if you'd like the vibes of the show as a whole. Also, it is so well-integrated into the story that most anime-onlys don't even realize it's filler unless they're told.

Honestly, I would put G-8 on the same entertainment level writing-wise as some of the better movies. It's fun to watch, the jokes are great, and the characters are all enjoyable. I really recommend giving it a go.

#Sorry sorry I tried to keep this short hahaha but definitely check it out! At least give the first 3 episodes a shot #If you don't like it after that then you probably won't #Op #One piece #G-8 #Ask #Thank you!!

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ellesthots · 5 months ago

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Fateful Beginnings

XXX. “gut feeling”

parts: previous / next

plot: in an untoward evening, Bruce gets protective.

pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x fem!reader

cw: 18+, violence, drugging, aggression, description of injury, angst, nausea/vomit, basically Gotham being Gotham

words: 6.7k

a/n: oooowieeee Bruce is really starting to show his more flustered side 🤭

PHOTOS: EMT Says Bruce Wayne “Lucky to be Alive" After Harrowing Crash on Tower Grounds

You'd been walking the sidewalk just before Rai's when you got the news alert. Even with his warning, one that left you for a few seconds when first staring at the phone, it was like being pummeled by a brick. Tethered to your screen, flipping through the photos TMZ posted like they were scripture. After a few heavy exhales, you gathered yourself enough to walk inside. The familiar 'Welcome in!' before a double-take. "Y/N? What are you doing here? You said you left?"

In all honesty you'd forgotten about your last conversation, the last moments before tragedy, and hadn't prepared for what you'd say to people outside of what you were to tell Mar. You did your best to laugh it off, but he wasn't taking it. He walked around the register and stood in front of you, right by the Oreos. "Always been able to read you, friend. Tell me, what's on your mind?"

Ding! The door opened to a cluster of women and Rai gave you a playful finger wag. "Foiled this time."

You joined half of the pack as they perused the drink aisle, then the other that clustered by the deli. He was almost out of tabbouleh, and the second best thing in your opinion—baklava—was being thirsted after by the two people in front. You decided to get some pita and hummus to go.

Rai didn't have time to talk to you with the line of people behind you, and for a brief moment you thought about staying—but your bed was calling your name, so you kept it simple. "I decided to stay for a few more weeks, at the very least. I'll be back soon for more tabbouleh." You winked at him, smiled, and found yourself right back where you had rotted the past 36 hours.

Rai sent you a text about fifteen minutes later. Heard you're a big journalist now girl! How does it feel to be published?

The message stopped you in your tracks; it was the first time someone had mentioned the interview without also mentioning Bruce Wayne. It brought tears to your eyes. He was the first person truly interested in your experience with it, about how it was just a project, not the person, that was the cool part.

I'm staying a bit longer for the election. Especially with how much traction my interview got, I think I carved out some legitimacy for myself to maybe make a difference reporting on the mayoral campaign.

He must've gotten swamped because your next text from him wasn't until an hour later. Whatever keeps you near Gotham and tabbouleh makes me happy. Bouleh on me next visit.

It was a running joke how often you ordered it; it was almost a hyperfixation, the flavor of it orienting you to time and place whenever things got harried. You learned a few months after being here that you needed some routine and, well. That was yours. The glow of your iPad screen was also an ever-present friend:

SEARCH: Marian Grange

Google showed that Grange was the former district attorney, a big-time lawyer taking on some very high profile cases in her time. A handful of years ago she had made her way to Gotham—notably, with just enough years of residency to run for Mayor this calendar year. Since coming to the city, she hadn't taken on any more cases, submitting wholly to the pursuit of... socializing? She was often pictured with the elite, holding hands with a beaming smile, endlessly pictured throughout her public-facing Instagram going to various fundraisers and luncheons. Per her campaign website, she wanted to stop the 'targeting' of the city's rich. Out of the many filler words on her 'issues' page, that was the only information you could glean.

SEARCH: Sebastian Hady

Hady's 'issues' page was a bit more complex: in addition to his position of taxing the churches, he wanted to put out an immediate hit on the batman. He'd attempted to run for mayor in the past two elections, falling short of winning enough votes to make the final matchup, and it was clear why: his politics were inconsistent. Tax the churches, but don't tax the wealthy; increase taxes on the poor, so they could 'bootstrap' their way out of their 'unfortunate predicament'. As out of touch as Grange was, Hady made your stomach flip. He'd been a political science major, with no real experience due to being denied access to Gotham University's Public Administration graduate program. Outside of running incessant campaign ads on late-night television and blaring his oversaturated frame across the city streets, he'd mostly laid low.

SEARCH: Lincoln March

BRRT BRRT. BRRT BRRT. "Mar?"

"Have you seen the news? I didn't have any reception in the lounge."

Every time she went to the Iceberg Lounge you wanted to hold her by her collar and give her a desperate talking-to. You gripped the phone tighter. "It's dangerous, you know the type of shady shit that's gone down there the past few years?"

"So you haven't seen it." She slurped away on a drink. “Sour as hell.”

Ding! You pulled your phone away from your ear to see the TMZ article. Your gut cinched.

"It's all anyone's talking about. People are getting into massive arguments on Scypher about it, it's fucking crazy."

"Arguments?" You bit the inside of your cheek.

She scoffed on the other line. "You're joking, right? Some people are saying he was DOA and had to be revived!"

A lurching clump of bile hurtled into your mouth, forcing you to double over and squeeze your mouth shut. Everything about that sentence haunted you, from the almost incredulous way she delivered it to Gotham's colloquial use of shorthand when describing being killed. He might've been fucking dead? Fuck, fuck...

"Hello? Y/N? Hello?" She groaned. "You're acting weird. Haven't even told me why you're still in the city."

"Don't you think it's a heavy fucking thing to talk about like that? You can't throw around someone being, someone being fucking, dead!" You were more shrill than you meant to be, but you didn't exactly have the resources to control your tone while you clutched your stomach and held your breath, not wanting to taste the vomit you'd just swallowed.

"Shiiit, I thought you didn't like him." If she turns this into a conversation about dating...

"I already saw it earlier."

"Think it'll interfere with your interview?" The sound of background whistling and whooping created an unsettling soundscape.

"I really don't care if it does."

"Pretty rude of the guy, in my opinion. Stealing your thunder like that?"

She's drunk. She doesn't know any better. Hell, might even be wasted. Still, your hand shook with anger to the point you had to set the phone on your comforter and scoot back from it. You pressed your palms flat against your mouth to keep from screaming. Screaming what, you didn't know. You were beginning to understand what it was like for Bruce to talk to you as you struggled to speak through gritted teeth. "That's really disrespectful, Mar."

"I'm jooookingg!" She cackled and you heard a clatter. "Oh shit hahaha, my phone. Hello? Still there?"

Don't want to be. "Yeah. Do you need me to call you an Uber?"

"Nahh, this guy's taking me home."

"What about Gianna?" She always hung around Gianna; you'd only met her once when Mar got picked up, and only for about five seconds, but after a brief look over her socials (and an impressive LinkedIn) you were inclined to think she was a good influence. Gianna had to be with her.

"I haven't asked her to be exclusive yet, you know that." Her words were beginning to slur.

"Who's the guy?"

"Some dude I met at the bar, he's super fuckin' rad."

"I'm sending an Uber to your location. Come up to my apartment, we'll spend the night together." Did she always leave with someone when she didn't go out with you? You pictured her being preyed upon, studied in the pulsing lights of the club. It made you sick.

"Okay bossy. No." She giggled to herself. "His apartment is like half a mile north, he's walking me." She hung up. Jesus. You threw on your sneakers, grabbed a taser, and raced outside, scanning your apartment fob to access the free-use bike garage. Iceberg Lounge was about a fifteen minute walk south.

It was terrifying biking on the streets of Gotham. Half the street lamps didn't work, and the drivers were all fiendish assholes who drove like they wanted to smear bodies on the pavement. You'd almost thought yourself lost until you spotted a glint of her neon pink cami.

"Hey!" You tried not to sound too menacing; maybe this was a rare good guy in Gotham, and he was gonna tuck her in safely to his spare bed and make sure she had a nice, non-laced drink of water at her bedside. No fucking way. "Hey,"

"Y/N?" Mar looked shocked at your arrival.

You dismounted your bike and grabbed her hand. When you did, the man grabbed your forearm. You ignored him and spoke directly to her. “Let’s head back to my place.”

”Interrupting our date.” The man laughed, but it was indignant. He still wasn’t loosening his grip on your arm. Getting a closer look at Mar, she was disheveled; her straps were sliding off her arm, exposing the top of her bra; her belt was halfway undone, yet her lipstick was pristine.

“We have a rule to not go home with people when we’re drunk.” You flashed him a smile, his green eyes dark and menacing. Why do I always notice the eyes?

“Sounds like BS to me.” He tried to laugh again when he said it, which only pissed you off. He probably thought he was one of the ‘good guys’ and didn’t understand why no one ever called him for a second date. You snaked your left arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer to you. A quick once-over noted him wearing a thick leather jacket with white cuffs, and dark blue jeans with rips in the knees. His shoes were a nondescript pair of white Nikes. “You seem perfectly sober, interesting.” Mar was unsteady in your grasp, her weight leaning slightly too much into you, her knees wobbly. Did he fucking slip her something?

You swatted away his hand, which had a butterfly effect; he swiftly grabbed your ponytail, yanking on it so you were removed from between them. He grabbed her by the elbow as you stuttered back, tears springing into your eyes from the tension of having your hair yanked. He couldn’t quite walk as fast as he wanted to, her legs catching on every crack in the sidewalk. In this city that meant a long, treacherous walk anywhere, and an opportunity for you to strike.

You pulled out your taser and ran closer to him before slamming your finger on the trigger. A small catch of electricity came from the tip, then faltered. It’s not charged. Fuck. He turned toward the nearest apartment complex, and you lunged for his neck. He was tall, but not too tall, and there were a few steps he’d climbed to the doorway. You were able to wrap your palm around half of his neck, pulling him down hard on the concrete. Before he’d even smacked the ground you jumped down the stairs and slammed your foot into his balls, as hard as you could, your left foot skipping atop the concrete with the force as it struggled to balance. He cursed, spit flying out of his mouth as he clutched his groin. Mar was barely holding onto the siderails at this point, confirming she’d been slipped something. His legs thrashed wildly, his grunts filling the empty sidewalk. He caught your ankle and you fell back, smacking your head against the bottom stair. For a few seconds all you could do was breathe, the air knocked out of you and your vision blurry, stilted. He rose to his knees, and you scrambled back. By the grace of whatever God may or may not exist, you were able to get back on your feet before he did. The transition made you wildly dizzy, and before you knew it you fell to your knees again.

Mar was barfing off the edge of the railing, crying. You figured she had no idea what was going on, just knew that it was bad; the first and only time you’d been roofied was out with Mar one night. You’d tasted your drink and within a few minutes you were feeling woozy. Make it ten minutes later, and the room was a glowing haze of smoke and mirror—literally. You were seeing double everywhere you looked, locked in your own cage of whatever someone else did to you. Thankfully Mar had enough experience to notice the initial signs of being drugged (at least, in someone else) and had immediately called an Uber and notified the staff of the bar. She’d tended to you the rest of that night, and when you woke up her eyes were buggy and bloodshot. “I stayed up all night watching you. I didn’t want you to like, choke in your sleep or something.”

You attempted to raise your head, but it was pounding, whiting out your vision when you tried to support it with just your neck. You grabbed your phone and managed to open it to your phone app, but he smacked it away. You watched through bleary eyes as it soared into a bit of bark dust beneath some shrubs, landing face-down. All you saw was a gentle emanation of dark blue light. It called someone.

“HELP!” You shouted, hoping that whoever it was would hear you. Most of your contacts (you didn’t have too many) had access to your location information. You’d gotten scared after a few harrowing abduction stories in the Gazette and sent a mass text to the people in it with your info. Someone would call, and it would be fine. “CALL 911.”

Mar slumped to the ground and balanced her head against the railing, tears streaming down her cheeks. This part of town was deceptively barren, of course it was. The man grabbed you by the ankles and you screamed, jerking your legs until one broke free. “HELP!”

A part of you thought it would be okay—until you remembered Batman wasn’t on patrol tonight. Your heart sank as you watched him latch both hands onto your other ankle… and then he dropped you. He turned and walked halfway between the road and the apartment doors—why wasn’t anyone coming out to help?—and faced you, his mouth slobbery and in a slack grin. He shook out his body and flexed his fingers, taking a moment to hype himself up. You tried to sit up again, grinding your molars with the effort, but you nearly blacked out. The only thing that came to mind were the earthquake drills from elementary school, of hiding under your desk with your hands over your head to protect from falling debris. He was falling debris. Inevitable. You wrapped your hands around your aching head. Pressed your elbows together in front of your nose. Tucked your chin, barely, to protect your neck. He took off in a sprint for you, his sneakers connecting brutally with your thigh. You screamed, and he kicked it again. And again. And again. “See how you like it, fucking bitch.”

Mar screamed behind you; weak, but undeniable. “Stop it,” She stumbled toward you as his foot barreled into you with unbridled ferocity. She grabbed onto his arm and he shoved her off. She reached back out, her nails digging into his skin. He shouted and shoved her hard against the railing, turning his attention on her. She had enough bearings now to dodge a single hit, rolling out of the way before another landed square between her shoulders. You were busy incrementally lifting your head from the cement, centimeter by slow centimeter sitting upright. The man wiped the arm of his jacket against his mouth, muttering. “Bullshit fucking cunts.” He slammed his foot between her legs, and she yelped, rolling over onto her stomach. A wave of nausea stormed through you.

She was slowly rising, but he slammed his fists into her back and she buckled. Her face hit the pavement so hard you hoped her nose wasn’t broken. She started coughing, stringy spit dribbling off her lips. At this point he turned back to you with a sneer. “Guess I’m getting double tonight.”

Sick freak. The pain was edging out your fear, and resignation was teetering towards fruition. You only needed a few more minutes to get your bearings. Long enough to heat up a fucking hot pocket. He slapped you across the face, and you fell back to exactly where you were. Flat against the ground. Thundering head. Unable to sit up, arrested by searing pain.

The sound of skin slamming into skin disoriented you. Thudding, smacking sounds pierced the air, peppered with the man’s grunts and yelps. He sounded like a hit dog. What, the fuck? You shoved your palms against the ground to support your weight, but it wasn’t working. You physically grabbed your jaw and the back of your head and tilted it up, holding it there to watch the scene unfolding a few feet in front of you. A horrible hollow sound echoed just as the man was hurled against the opposite railing, his chest nearly touching his shin as his body bent around the metal. His opponent was adept at fighting; fully hooded with a black shirt wrapped around the bottom half of his face, a thick, baggy jacket bulking his frame, gauze wrapped around his knuckles. You couldn’t make out his full face, but the feeling you got told you all you needed. It wasn’t quite fear, not quite comfort, or peace, but an indisputable sensation of safety. You let your head fall back, too fast, as you sobbed cries of relief.

The mystery man kept trying to fight back, but not a single hit landed. You saw it all in the lower half of your vision. Saw the guy try, fight, and run, and the other stoop down to Mar and help her sit up. Once she was in a safe, neutral position he turned to you—Bruce’s eyes were framed with black, paint smearing down his cheekbones and into his brows. He took your arm and attempted to pull you up to the same position, but you squealed. “I hit my head,”

He sat back like he was calculating something for a moment before cupping his left hand at the base of your head. Holding you like an infant, he slowly tilted you upright. He held his hand just above your neck a few seconds longer. “Gonna let go.” Tentatively, he did, and you resisted your torso’s urge to flop back down.

A car pulled up right then, one you hadn’t seen before. It was flashy, but not a sportscar. He noticed your eyes follow it and lowered his voice. “It’s mine. I’ll take you both home.” He paused, gesturing with his head. “Do you know her?”

You tried to nod but you felt like your head would snap off your neck. “Yeah. My friend. I think, she was drugged.” The pulsing in your thigh was violent, and you worried you might have fractured something. He gave you a once-over, then looked back to her. “I’ll help her in first.”

Bruce tried to help her stand, but she shook her head. “Y/N,” she called out weakly, moving to her hands and knees to crawl toward you. She managed to make her way to your side, panting with the effort. “Who is, why,”

Shit. “Um, he’s my friend. I called him when, when the guy, shit,” Your head was in agony. You struggled to form coherent thoughts, let alone speech. How, clear is she? Recognize? Him? Disguise?

“I trust you.” Her voice no stronger than a whisper. She reached her arms out to him, and he walked over to help her up. He wrapped his arm around her back and to her armpit, hoisting her up and steadying her to the car. The side door opened as he walked up, and he helped her sidle in. He waited a few seconds while she adjusted, then grabbed the seatbelt. You heard him say something, but couldn’t… only if you want maybe? About the seatbelt?

You blinked and he was holding out his hands for you. The scarred, dirty hands that now had traces of fresh blood from reopened knuckle scabs soaking through the gauze. It made you faint thinking about him at the… Arkham. All at once you sat up, the motion sending you reeling. “Fuck!” Your hands trembled as pain ravaged your head, all the blood simultaneously leaving and filling it. “No, you shouldn’t, fuck,”

He squatted to your eye-level. His stare didn’t waver once. “You’re, recovering, I don’t, thanks,” Between every word was a gasp of pain.

His tone was firm, leaving no room for disagreement. “I’m glad you called. I’m taking you home.”

“Are you—”

“I’m fine.” He held out an expectant hand for you to take. You anticipated having to pull your own, but to your surprise he pulled you up with you barely feeling the ground whatsoever. He carried the bulk of your weight, snaking his arm on top of your shoulders instead of under, allowing your neck not to bobble as you both walked. The last time you’d been this close to him you hadn’t known his identity. You recalled his hold being so firm you couldn’t escape, how afraid that had made you until you’d realized it was him. You stopped trying to force your balance and let him guide you the last steps to the car; the door opened automatically again, and he helped you slip in beside Mar. She had her head against the back of the seat, eyes half shut.

“Need help?” He had a finger looped around the seatbelt. Your cheeks heated, and you stammered out a no. He shut the door, and you painstakingly buckled yourself. A part of you wondered what he’d do if you refused to buckle up, and how long he would sit there demanding you put it on before you finally gave in, having sufficiently annoyed him.

When Bruce climbed in, you felt like a child who forgot their lunch on the way to school. You asked him to retrieve your phone, explaining it was under some shrubs by the entryway. Not ten seconds later he was back in, wiping dirt off the screen before handing it back to you. He was so fucking fast.

Mar didn’t talk during the drive, and neither did Bruce, so neither did you. You kept one eye on her at all times, making sure she didn’t fall asleep before you could check if she had a concussion or not. You figured you did, and you were not looking forward to checking in the mirror later looking at the damage done to your left leg. Now I match Bruce. A bitter thought.

You’d had the wherewithal prior to leaving to bring your keychain with you, tucked nicely into your pocket. By some stretch he hadn’t kicked just a few inches higher, which would have probably left you with a gaping wound from the jagged ends of the keys fileting your hip. You held the fob out the window when he pulled up to the garage, and in another blink he was helping Mar out.

“Can you stand?” Mar was slumped into his shoulder as he supported her weight. “Might have to carry her.” She looked exhausted, with her eyes glazed over, her face sweaty. You watched her chest with diligence, and per usual he sensed you, reading you like he was superhuman. “Her respiration’s normal. You can check the rest of her when you get your bearings.”

You unbuckled and tried to stand, but even shifting halfway out the car scared you. The ground phased in and out of your vision, the depth completely lost. As much as it burned… You sighed. “Take her up first. I think I need help walking.”

You handed him your keychain and he went on his way. Only after he’d disappeared up the elevator did you question it. I let her go up alone with a man? In this state? You couldn’t berate yourself much though, because a strong swell of defensiveness ravaged you. It was like the you before and you now were dueling. Condemning your judgment and rationalizing it, back and forth.

There was truly just something about him. Maybe you were infantilizing him and the past week was clouding your judgment. Maybe he moonlighted as Batman to cover up his serial killer tendencies. Keep the cops trained on an alternate identity, a vigilante. But he made you feel safe. He always made you feel held. Even when your mind took over and convinced you he was wrong, convinced you you should be afraid, your body never internalized it. That gut feeling you got around other men; the other men at city hall, the other men at the club, some of the men in your undergrad classes, even some of the professors… your stomach never curdled like that around him.

You didn’t think about it any further.

Bruce jogged out the elevator and helped you out. You ignored how your stomach fluttered being pressed so close to him, fought the tears that begged at the edge of your eyes, and let yourself sink into his chest. At some point you closed your eyes and concentrated on the roughness of his jacket against your cheek, and the patter of his heartbeat. Warmth. Alive. Breathing. Secure.

You being so close to him made him keen to his breathing. His body felt tingly and dizzy. He held you tighter. Every exhale fluttered the hair in front of your face, wisping it across your eyelashes. Was his breathing too loud? Were you falling asleep? He rustled you slightly, just taking a step slightly too hard, not wanting you to—your lashes fluttered, having caught you right before slipping into dreamland. He needed to keep you awake, at least long enough to do a proper assessment. Long enough to make sure you weren’t going to die.

Walking through your doorframe was a beast he realized too late; too narrow to both walk through wide, after your left hip caught on the strike plate and you cried out. He hated how much it felt like someone squeezed his chest when he saw you in pain; if you or your friend had been any less injured, he would’ve taken more time on the perpetrator.

He sat you delicately on the couch, instructing you to sit upright as much as you were able. He unwrapped the cloth from over his mouth, shoving it into his jacket pocket. He asked if he could touch the back of your head, and you agreed. His fingers were as gentle as a cat’s whisker, delicately sifting through sweaty clumps of hair that, if it weren’t for even the air moving past it causing flinching pain, might’ve made you soft, weak. You startled when he removed his hand. “Can’t feel any bleeding, no cuts.” His voice was soft, his eyes scanning everywhere but yours. You were glad.

He asked the date, gave you a few words to recall back, and shined a light in your eyes. You recoiled like he’d slapped you when he pulled out his flashlight, the light causing physical pain. On the jump back, your leg brushed the pillow to your left, and he stared down at it. “May I?” You nodded and he pulled up your shorts; you were biting down on your tongue as his pinky grazed the bruise. “How bad is it?” It was at this point, when he didn’t immediately respond, that you realized he’d turned off the lights in your apartment and only left the lamp on in the corner. Thoughtful.

“Already bruising.” He grimaced, seeing the speckled outline of the shoe’s leather binding indented in harsh red streaks along your leg. His grimace made your face fall; he hardly grimaced like that when he had a fucking gaping wound in his leg. “What? Tell me.”

He shook his head. “A bad bruise, that’s all.” He grabbed your shin lightly and asked you to bend your leg. Then put weight on it. Twist left to right. Flex your hip. Everything worked normally. Still, his brow was twisted together, looking like he was gnawing on his cheek. You eyed him skeptically. “What?”

This was the second time he’d pulled someone off of you in less than six months. Your entire thigh would be lit dark scarlet in just a few days. He’d called Gordon the second he got into his car, and whispered an ID to his watch to ping over when he went to get your phone. He was sure they got him, but all he could think about was brutality; he didn’t like the things he was imagining, the drive to crack all the fingers off the man’s hand and shove them into his petrified, quivering mouth, and the equal drive to wrap you in a hug that never ended to make sure no one else harmed you.

You saw the movement of all these thoughts across his face, but the only source you could track them to was hesitation to tell you the extent of your injury. “Do I need to go to the hospital?”

He wanted to scour every inch of you to look for more lacerations, bruises, bleeds. For possibly the first time ever, he didn’t trust his estimation. You needed a professional, just in case. In case he missed something. In case you’d jostled your brain too much, in case the man had loosened a clot in your leg. He nodded. “I think you should.” He could take a back way there, walk you up to the doors and then put you in a wheelchair at the entrance. His mask would cover up enough, probably. He’d bring your friend with you. She could be checked out too.

You looked to his bloodless palms and fingertips that had just explored your scalp. Down to the splotches across your leg. “Why?” You felt like shit, yeah, but…?

“I might be wrong.”

”About what?”

”The extent of it.”

”What, like a brain bleed?”

”Exactly like that.”

You flicked your gaze up to your bedroom door. “I can’t leave her. Is she okay?” You moved to get up, and it was painful, but you managed. You slammed your hand on his shoulder for emergency balance, and you begrudgingly accepted his support across the living area. Mar was on her side in bed, squinting at her phone that seemed to already be on the lowest brightness. You whispered. “I got it.”

He let you go and walked back to the living room, and you shut the door behind you. You limped over to her and sat on the edge, tapping her ankle to alert her. Slowly her eyes moved to yours. The lipstick that had been untouched was now smeared across her cheeks, and her eyeliner bled and cracked off. “Are you, okay?”

”I think so. Are you?” You were doing exactly what Bruce just had; scanning her body at rapid speed, analyzing for any signs of injury. She looked a bit scraped up on the heels of her hands and knees, and you asked her to turn to take a look at her back. There was still the rough, muddied outline of his shoe from where it connected on her spine, but nothing else of note. Some general redness, and when you touched it she groaned, but didn’t shriek.

You looked into her eyes, but knew you had no idea what to look for. “Did he check you out already?”

She nodded, leisurely. “Shined something in my eye and told me to say stuff, I don’t remember what though.” Her words were still slurred, and the top of her nose was scraped, but nothing looked broken. You thought of the kick he’d done between her legs, and asked if she felt any pain there. She almost giggled. “Bastard forgot I don’t have balls. But, how,” She winced as she adjusted, her back rippling with it. “Cool is it he thought, I did.” She sighed and returned her attention back to her phone.

“Do you have pain anywhere?”

She glanced down at her palms and then pointed to her nose. Her biggest thing then was being drugged, and yours was whatever head thing you had going on paired with a throbbing leg. The thought of leaving your warm bed to go to a bright–fuck, BRIGHT–hospital made you want to actually die. You were gonna take your chances tonight. Oh, it was making you sick thinking about it…

“I’m gonna get some meds. Want some?” Whew, just a few steps through to the kitchen. I can do it! I’ve done it a lot! At least half of the journey is carpet, if I do eat shit. She nodded again (you were very jealous she was able to bob her head), and began your slow shuffle to the kitchen. The second you appeared in the doorway, Bruce jumped to your aid. You waved him off. “I think I’ll stay home.” You grabbed the counter for support.

“I’m taking you in.”

Furrowing your brow hurt your aching head. “I’m gonna take some meds, it’ll, be fine.”

“Then I’m staying.”

He sounded like a scolding parent. You shot a look at him and felt the ground wiggle beneath you. You squeezed your eyes shut which only made it worse. Tried to refocus on the medicine cabinet. So high…

“Let’s go.” He made his voice a bit louder, sterner. You finally scooted close enough to reach the handle, and now worked up the courage to grab it. You rustled around in there for a moment.

“You’re not really going to take that, are you?” His tone was biting. Footsteps, then he snatched the bottle of ibuprofen out of your hand. “Do you want to have a brain bleed?”

Shame coursed through you, another one of his thousand cuts. When you were able to look back at him, he had his eyes shut tight and his lips pursed, one hand holding the bottle and the other gripping the counter. He saw you looking at him and hastily turned away. The pop of the plastic bottle on the marble punctuated his apology. “Sorry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, his hood removed somewhere between your bedroom and the couch. He huffed and tilted his head back to stare at the dark kitchen light. His shoulders rose and fell with every cycle of breath, one for every three blinks. The room was silent like that for a minute. He was so angry… no, he was nervous. Upset.

He caught your eye when you turned and his face fell into something softer, more vulnerable. “You’re not going, right?” He gave the smallest shake of his head and flicked the bottle a few inches. He didn’t wait for your answer. “I’m staying.” He made his voice strong, though you both knew you could kick him out and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Bruce,”

“You’re both incapacitated, leaving you here alone, it’s, it’s not an option.” He was getting flustered. You always took him there. He didn’t stutter, he never caught on his words, never caught on the sidewalk, never overlooked a pedestrian, fuck. His voice was raising, only slightly. His breathing got shallower, his fingers feeling chilled. “I need a minute.” He put his hands over his head and walked to the other side of the room, pacing in front of the couch. The fact the silence felt thick made you want to cut it. “I’ll be fine,”

“Please!” He dropped his hands at his sides and stood facing the cushions.

Deep breath in. Hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. Inhale, hold… exhale. He felt his chest start to release. Inhale, hold… exhale. Hold. Inhale, hold… exhale, hold… the feeling was coming back into his fingertips. Inhale, exhale. Hold… Inhale, slow, hold… exhale, slow, hold. Blink. Blink. Look at the wall. Couch. Hands. Jacket. In, out.

Another big sigh and a small shake, and he looked over his shoulder. He swallowed back globs of saliva that threatened to drown his vocal folds. His cheeks were pink, from what he had no idea. “I’m upset this happened to you.” He figured some transparency wouldn’t hurt, seeing as he’d just watched you get bludgeoned on the sidewalk and the… events of the past weekend. His jaw flexed. “And your friend.” He groaned, feeling frustrated tension fill him again. “I heard your shouting from blocks away. There were plenty of people.” His hands tightened in and out of fists, a motion you never failed to dial into. “No one did a damn thing.”

“Seems about right.” You slowly reached for the ibuprofen and put it back in the cabinet, letting it fall shut with a small tap.

Bruce was facing you now. “You don’t seem fazed.”

You shrugged, but couldn’t raise your shoulders in any meaningful capacity. “People don’t give a shit here.” You winced, as another blow of pain emanated the circumference of your skull. “Of course you don’t,” You flinched, speaking causing coils of pain to vibrate in your head. “Get it.”

He held back the full extent of his response, because he had a full argument sitting on the tip of his tongue. “I’ve seen the worst of it as him. I get it.” His enunciation begged no comment, but it was steamrolled.

“You don’t.” It was going to hurt to push all the words out at once, but the adrenaline of more friction with him was enough fuel to edge it out, momentarily. “You’re only able to be him because of your very unique, situation.” It was suffering to continue talking. “Even if people wanted to, to be you.” You took a small breather, placing both hands on the edge of the counter as the world whizzed by. “We can’t. We have, work, school, people are, shit.”

“We can talk about it later.” He walked to the cupboard and drew some water from the sink. You noticed him rinse it twice before filling. He held it out to you. “Drink. Sips.”

Some muscle in your finger had to have direct access to your brain because when you extended your arm fully to grab it, as soon as your pinky gripped the glass, you shuddered like you’d flicked a nerve. The glass clattered to the ground, exploding shards across the floor. When you ventured to move, he stopped you with a firm hand on your shoulder. “I’ll get it.” He didn’t want you tripping with how unsteady your gait was. He moved to your side and grabbed some paper towels, squatting once more to gather the biggest chunks. “There’s a, broom. In the closet by the door.”

“Y/N?” Mar had made her way out of your room in a drunken shuffle. She’d said your name but her squinted, hazy gaze was focused entirely on Bruce, who was now facing her without his hood, without his mask, almost entirely exposed save the black around his eyes. Her eyes widened. “Is that…”

In your periphery you noticed Bruce’s eyes flick up to yours as his hands slowed. For once he was silent, letting you take the lead–naturally, it was the first time ever you didn’t want to. Fuck.

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teatimewithgiles · 2 years ago

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Anthony Head: He’s [Joss] very generous and knows exactly what he wants. We’ve only had terse words on a couple of occasions, one of which was when I brought something to a scene. Basically there was an episode we were filming which was coming up short so they added this scene where me and Xander were looking for Buffy, and originally it was someone saying “oh we must find her” or something like that, so we’re filming this scene where we find Spike and one of the executive producers called David Solomon who was head of post-production directed it, and basically the dialogue amounted to “Have you seen Buffy”….”No” came the answer, it was filler, and I thought what can we do with this. So I’m walking down this alley and I thought I know, I’m going to step in some dog-shit. Cos basically what I’d learned in class was you can bring life into the scene and the scene will take care of itself, you concentrate on something while you’re talking the dialogue and then the dialogue doesn’t sound like it’s something off a page and it sounds more like part of life.

So as I’m sitting there, we find Spike and I’m sitting on a bunch of garbage cans and I pick up some paper and wipe the crap of my shoe.

And it worked, I suggested the idea to David Solomon who was directing it and he said “yeah sure if you want”, so I did it and then I got this call from Joss saying “What were you thinking?”, so I said “oh I was just trying to bring a bit of life into it” so he said “My show is not about shit!” so I said “oh sorry” and he said “well you’ve painted me into a corner now and I’m gonna have to edit around it because I’m not having you wiping crap off your shoe, what was wrong with the scene?” and I said “Well I just think it was a bit boring”. Anyway when it came to it they cut around it by basically shooting me in close-up and just using all the close-up shots so you don’t know what I’m doing, but I am preoccupied with something. So actually as it happens it works, because I’m not staring at Spike asking him meaningless questions I’m concentrating on something else which happens to be crap on my shoe, so it actually worked.

Interview with Anthony Stewart Head 02/03/13

#if anyone finds time to read it because I actually found it very interesting #i never would have noticed #anthony stewart head #rupert giles #buffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #ttwgop #anthony head

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moonbearmeliox · 6 months ago

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Basic Guide to Indy Car

I was going to wait to post this until there was actual confirmation that Logan is going to Indycar, but with the recent Williams news, a lot of people have been asking about Indycar and how to get into so here's the Basic Guide I made when rumors started circulating that Logan was going to be out by the end of the year. I started getting into Indycar this year, using it as the filler when there was no F1 on weekends. I'm still fairly new to the sport, and most of the information I got from my dad so if there's anything incorrect, feel free to let me know.

Teams: There are 10 teams currently racing in Indy Car with Prema being the newest team joining the grid in 2025. Some teams have two drivers, some have three, some even have 4. During a race you will not be able to tell who's on what team at first and who's driving which car since a lot of the cars look the same and the leader board shows the driver's numbers, not their team logos(Each team uses a different font for their drivers' numbers, but realistically it's always too small to properly identify what number belongs to which team or the fonts are too similar.) There is no Team Championship so realistically it is better to root for a driver than a whole team(Tho I will say I am an Andretti fan, but only because it's Andretti and 2 of my favorite drivers are on that team)

Drivers: There are 27 drivers each race, except for the Indy 500 which includes around 5 extra driver/team entries. Driver swapping happens more often in IndyCar, so just be prepared if a driver swap gets announced if a driver isn't doing well or if a team is racing at an oval track(teams will sometimes swap in drivers who are better at ovals). The driver's numbers are assigned by what car they are driving/what team they are on. A driver doesn't get to pick their number unless they win the championship(Current Champion is Will Power with his driver number being 12).

The Cars: IndyCar only has two Engine Manufacturers, Chevy and Hyundai and there is a championship between them(it's not very thrilling though when it's just two manufactures competing). The cars need to refuel during pit stops, as Indy races are longer. Also the liveries are sponsored based, not team based, and they can look very similar, as they change almost every race. Mid-way through the 2024 season, they switched to a hybrid engine system. From what I can understand, the cars now have the same battery system that Formula 1 has with drivers being able to charge the battery during the slow parts. The battery also seems to provide the power used for Push to Pass.

Push to Pass: DRS equivalent. Each driver starts a race with 200 seconds of Push to Pass they can use throughout the race that is activated after the 1st lap. Push to Pass uses fuel but gives the driver an extra push to try and overtake.

Tires: Two types of tires, Primary(Hard) and Alternates(Soft). Each driver needs to change to a different type of tire at least once during a race. The tires are provided by Firestone.

Races: Indycar races take place in various US States(and one race in Toronto). They run longer and have more laps than an Formula races, hence why the drivers need to refuel during the race. The only way a driver can be taken out of a race is if the car gets severely damaged or will not restart(unless they're racing ovals, no car restart on the ovals). If a driver spins out or crashes, the car will get restarted and they can get back in the race. Also cars that are a lap down do NOT need to unlap themselves, which can lead to some conflict with the leading cars. Every car that starts the race earns 5 points

There are three different types of tracks that IndyCar races are held on: Road Courses, Street Tracks, and Ovals(Oval and Street races are more about survival).

There will be at least 3 yellow flag every race. One of them will almost always be during the first lap of a race.

In terms of which races are the most important during the Indycar season: The Long Beach Grand Prix and The Indianapolis 500(Indy 500) are the most important. The Long Beach Grand Prix is like the Monaco of Indycar, besides the Indy 500 every driver wants to win this race. The Indianapolis 500 is the pinnacle of IndyCar and is one part of the Triple Crown of Motorsports. 200 laps around an oval circuit with 5 extra driver entries, this is the most important race in Indycar.

Where to Watch: Right now, Indycar is broadcasted on Peacock, NBC, and USA. Going into 2025 IndyCar will be broadcasted on Fox Sports. It is important to note that with Indycar being around a 3 hour races, there are a lot of commercial breaks. You'll get 7 minutes of racing before it cuts to a 2-3 minute commercial break and if a yellow flag happens, they will cut to commercial shortly after(this could just be an NBC thing, won't know until the 2025 season starts). In terms of commentators, going in to 2025 it's unknown who will be commentating for the 2025 IndyCar season since they will be switching from Peacock/USA to FoxSports and the commentators will probably change.

Other Stuff: Before each race there's an evocation, the leader board shows how many seconds behind a driver is from the leader of the race, and each driver has their own pit box so teams do not have to worry about double stacking. There are no subtitles for team radios so it may be hard to hear what is being said. Each driver has a spotter(or more depending on the track layout), which is someone that watches the race from a higher vantage point and keeps the drivers and their teams updated throughout the race. Also there is a driver named Sting Ray Robb

#indycar #logan sargeant #moon's going vroom vroom #this is my way of coping with the recent william's news #also I made this months ago and have just been having it on standby

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syndrossi · 5 months ago

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resonant ch26 dvd commentary

That's right, it's a series now!

Favorite line:

“They will return soon enough,” he told the tiny dragons, feeling a kindred dismay that his sons had gone riding with someone other than him. “Until then, you must content yourselves with me.”

It's not my favorite chapter, and doesn't have any real bangers, but this was a fun little exchange. The mental image of Qelebrys and Shadow perched on Daemon's shoulders, all three of them wearing a glum/pouting expression, is very cute.

Favorite detail:

Carrying the theme that Daemon noticed when he took Rhaegar and Jon on Caraxes to and from the Giant's Toe, where Rhaegar is drawn to the beauty of the world when he's up high on a dragon, while Jon is looking at those ships below and pondering their significance. It's just as much reflective of their life experience as personality. Jon without the burdens he carries of having been a leader, responsible for administering multiple wars, might be able to afford to look upward or forward, rather than downward at the world encroaching in.

Favorite dynamic:

We had a few barbs traded with Cole, but it was fairly tame. Rhaenys and Daemon are my favorite dynamic again, in part because I enjoy writing people giving advice that makes sense to them but isn't necessarily the most healthy. No one character is an infinite font of wisdom, existing to dispense it to our heroes. Everyone has their own faults, flaws, self-interest, etc, and their advice is colored by it.

I'm talking, of course, about Rhaenys basically telling Daemon to suck it up, give up on having a good relationship with his brother founded on mutual understanding, and resign himself to the fact that his brother prefers a version of Daemon that isn't real, with all the edges filed off. Daemon does in fact know his brother better than Rhaenys, so it's actually not the best advice in this situation!

But it doesn't mean he didn't need to hear some version of "suck it up and figure out an approach," because he's been reactive/passive so far with Viserys. (Some of that is out of fear, to be fair.) But he can't afford to be afraid/not take risks, Rhaenys believes. Not with so much at stake.

(Rhaenys is not without her own self-interest, either.)

And Rhaenys has a better grasp on Otto than Daemon. She's not wrong about what he fears. So that was also good context for Daemon, if he pays it heed. But the conversation doesn't leave Daemon in a great place at the end, sadly.

"Quick" hitters:

I mentioned this before, but there were three separate scenes written for and removed from this chapter, including one that was up in the draft I saved on AO3 and then removed this morning before I posted it.

I think I figured out my real issue with this chapter, and it comes down to using the wrong lens during the Dragonpit parts. We're focused in tightly on Daemon and Rhaenys's conversation, which is fine/fair, but we pull back too much for the kids and hatchlings interactions. It would have been nice to perhaps get the actual introduction of the dragons as dialogue rather than exposition, and focus in a bit more on Jon during the final naming.

The chapter feels very self-indulgent and filler-y, which may be while I feel guilty about writing it. Not that you can't write those things, but I always feel like they fit better in side-stories.

Jon naming Shadow was added into this chapter after the fact. I'd decided on the name a while ago and kept trying to find the perfect moment for it, only for it to not really materialize. Jon making it a game the baby cousins could join in on ended up feeling right.

I kept going back and forth between the Valyrian and Common versions of "Shadow," but at the end of the day, Jon has a theme.

I really liked Harrenkos for a name ("suitably long" in Valyrian), given that Shadow is a longer boi than most.

With Laenor and Rhaenys about to be gone, and Rhaenyra in Dragonstone, the poor Velaryon boys are about to be on their own (with their nurses) for a while, poor lambs. We'll see if Daemon invites them over for supper a few times. That's a lot of kids to wrangle by himself!

I'd been holding onto this, but I don't think it's something I'll end up doing later on in the story, so I'll go ahead and share one of the deleted, incomplete scenes. Originally, there was going to be an attack on the carriage on the way back, but Daemon being up in the air on Caraxes made it a really poor choice on the part of their attackers (and the attack itself a little too obvious not to have the place swarmed with Goldcloaks), so I scrapped it.

Apologies to Rhaegar, who was going to get a hero moment and possibly his first kill (though I didn't get that far).

x~x~x

The hatchlings were exhausted after their exciting day, each settling on their laps to nap for the carriage ride back to the Red Keep. Jace soon followed their example, nodding off against Princess Rhaenys’s side twice before she rearranged him so that he could rest his head on her lap.

Jon had enjoyed their day out, but he did feel a sting of regret at not being able to accomplish either of the things he had wanted to today: gaining an audience with King Viserys, and speaking to their father about the candle. There was always tonight for the latter—or tomorrow. But he hated the thought of it continuing its efforts to torment Rhaegar, especially since they were now separated in the afternoon.

“Did you hear anything today?” he whispered to Rhaegar.

“Not in the yard,” his brother said, which was not a no.

The bumpiness of the ride down the sloped path leading from the Dragonpit gave way to the cobblestone of the Street of the Sisters. The sun had set, and the sky was halfway to twilight, leaving the interior of the carriage dark. Jon tuned his senses to hearing to distract from the unpleasant odor of Flea Bottom, which the street passed through briefly.

It was quieter than he remembered. Even the slums of King’s Landing had their equivalent of markets, and plenty of peddlers hawking their wares. He sat up straighter in his seat as the carriage slowed, and the strong scent of burning wood wafted through the window. He could hear the low murmur of their two Kingsguard ahead of the horses.

Jon glanced at Rhaegar, who met his gaze with a tense frown as their hatchlings stirred on their laps. Princess Rhaenys meanwhile was gently shaking Jace awake, turning to glance behind at the window. A glow was visible now, lighting up the area, and calls began to ring out from further away. Jon stood on his seat to get a better view; up ahead, he could see buildings aflame on either side of the street, and what looked to have once been a wagon burning in their path.

“Can we go around?” Jon heard Ser Erryk—or Arryk—say in a low tone to the carriage driver.

“Only if you fancy going deeper into Flea Bottom,” the man said.

“Turn back,” the Kingsguard ordered. “We will return to the Dragonpit.”

Smoke was beginning to drift through the window, stinging his eyes, and the shouts were growing louder. Jon reached carefully for his knife, which was strapped against his leg beneath his pants, though he did not yet slide it free. It was possible that whatever fire had broken out along their path was entirely accidental, but if so, it was extraordinarily convenient timing.

The clack of horseshoes on cobblestone was just audible over the din as one of the Kingsguard pulled alongside them. “My princess, remain within. We will turn and head back to the Dragonpit until the fires are put out.”

The tension in the knight’s voice told Jon that he too believed it to be no coincidence. The street was still narrow at this point, which meant two very long minutes of horse and carriage maneuvering to turn back north.

Too long.

The horrible scream of a wounded horse pierced through the din, and through the haze of the smoke still spilling in through the window, Jon could make out the shaft of an arrow embedded in its flank. Two clanking noises followed, the noise familiar to Jon—the clatter arrows deflected by a shield.

“Ser Erryk,” Princess Rhaenys called out tensely, holding Jace tightly to her side. Their young cousin was wide awake now, eyes large with fear.

There came another two loud thuds, this time above them, and Jon could see the point of an arrow splitting through the wood of the roof, and another a foot away from it.

“They are trying to set the carriage aflame, princess,” the knight said. By the sounds of it, he had drawn up along the side of the carriage opposite from where the first two arrows had come. “You and the children may need to leave it, if the fire catches.”

Jon could hear the agony of indecision in his voice. The carriage afforded protection from arrows, but the longer they remained within, the longer whoever was attacking it could get into position for—whatever it was they were after.

Us? Jon wondered. So far, none of the arrows had been aimed at the body of the carriage, but even so, he dragged Rhaegar several inches further from the wall. The other Cargyll brother joined his twin on the safe side of the carriage.

“There are at least four with bows,” he said. “They do not yet approach.”

The horse’s screams were quieting, which Jon knew meant another obstruction on the road. The smoke was growing thicker, enough to make Jace cough, and a glance upward revealed a darkening of the wood of the roof.

“Jon.” Rhaegar’s voice was low but urgent, his face set with tension. He extended a hand toward Jon. “Give me the knife.”

His first instinct was to deny the request, the notion of being unarmed in the chaos nearly unthinkable, but his arm was still injured. Rhaegar might lack Jon’s experience in a real melee, but he stood a better chance of defending them.

[end scene]

#resonant dvd commentary #resonant deleted scenes

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