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autobot-ratchet · 6 months ago

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MTMTE 37-40

MTMTE 37

I forgot about Roddy's built-in shades lmAO lookin slick hon

aww, Cyclonus getting overwhelmed with emotion at seeing his old home again... I also like him apologizing for kicking the shit out of Tailgate way back near the beginning of the comic when he got upset at him for making him want to be a Decepticon. All he says is “I'm sorry,” does Tailgate even actually know what for lmAO

so fucked up that the little bit of the Shadowplay arc where Rung was fiddling around with a model ship in the background for two seconds was future Rung the whole time. It was even clearly a model of the Lost Light too

love that Cyclonus allows Tailgate to ride in his cockpit. Something something gay joke

poor Rodimus is so over this time travel shit lmAO

ghsfadjks Chromedome and Rewind are having this heart to heart while Whirl is standing like five feet away

ah yes. The curly straw that marked the fall of Cybertron lmAO

I like how Cyclonus agrees that Tailgate's face is punchable lmfAO

interesting that Rewind and Whirl are on the same page about preventing events in the past to change the future

honestly love the reveal that Brainstorm isn't going back in time to kill Orion Pax and win the war for the Decepticons, he's going back to kill Megatron and prevent the war from ever happening in the first place. It's the kind of thing you could pick up on yourself if you're paying attention but still comes as a shock because we don't understand why just yet

MTMTE 38

hell yeah, I love both Percy and Magnus putting Megatron in his place, fuckin tell him

“God, now I'm starting to sound like him” ha ha he's taking up your brain space idiot, get owned

aww, Brainstorm is good... he was just trying to fix things, for everyone...

god damn, Rewind lmAO you got Megatron so shocked he's speaking in lower case

“Megatron dies and we lose: but the universe wins.” man... truly there was no universe where things worked out for everyone, it was always either Cybertron suffers or everyone suffers and I can't blame Rewind for making that call

the way Chromedome is so gentle with him... yOUR HONOR........

I also cannot blame Whirl for saying “fuck the functionists,” like. He's right lmAO

and there it is, the message at the end of the very first issue. Man, it's already been such a journey and I'm only halfway through the story. I do like Cyclonus pointing out that everything they told Rodimus not to do has a net positive outcome, we've been doing so much good even if we've gotten nowhere with our original objective lmAO

BRAINSTORM IS GOOD... still wild that his thing for Quark was explicitly a crush, even if it was only one-way. But the more that the people he loved suffered, the more he wanted to go back and prevent, he just wanted to stop the suffering...

rip to that dude who became the sparkeater. Absolutely hilarious that it's their own fault that was ever there

aww Brainstorm, you do wanna go back to the present, you just don't know it yet, you're gonna be fine

and everyone rejoiced except for Brainstorm and Megatron, it's fine, they'll get over it

and now we've solidified the functionist universe as a thing that exists. So Brainstorm's actions are technically what brought about our final boss, huh? Not purposefully, but you know. It's wild how integral the functionist universe is to the quest lmAO

MTMTE 39

ah right time to check back in on team cringelord

this fuckin panel of Helex using his hand to take Blip's brain out of his mouth and put it back on his head may as well not exist, all I can think of is the scrapped version of this panel where he takes it out with his own mouth lmfAO

shout out to this page where Tarn explains why he wears the mask for tricking so many people into believing that he didn't actually enjoy torturing people to death and was just misunderstood lmfAO like straight up I saw so many people like “oh he doesn't want anyone to notice him closing his eyes and not watching the murder it must mean he secretly doesn't want to do it and is actually a good guy deep down!!!” and like. I'm gonna be real I don't know what the fuck Tarn meant by all that but I can pick up enough context clues from everything else he's ever said and done to figure out that he Did Not Mean That lmfAO

ah yes, the only member of the DJD who matters, get their asses, Nickel

I do have to say, Tarn running the DJD like a regular-ass office is extremely funny lmfAO “I'm largely happy with your performance, love the dismemberment, but there is room for improvement”

at least alternate Brainstorm tried to keep the rest of the crew safe. It wasn't his fault the DJD are a bunch of fuckin animals lmAO also oouughfhg that panel of Drift trying to protect Ratchet from Tarn still kicks my ass, he'll beg for Ratchet to put him out of his misery when it's his own life in danger but he'll jump in front of the DJD's ringleader to keep him away from Ratchet...

like. This moment where Tarn attacks Tesarus for the crime of daring to question his decision (in this case, his decision to leave Vos and Kaon to die) makes it pretty clear that Tarn is not secretly good lmfAO like straight up I saw so much bitching when Tarn killed Kaon in the Dying of the Light arc because “Tarn would never! This is OOC, the DJD loves each other, they're like a family!!!” and like... *gestures at this entire issue* *gestures at everything Tarn has ever done* This comic spends every moment that Tarn is on screen making it abundantly clear that his whole entire thing is killing his fellow Decepticons for literally any stupid fuckin reason and Tarn stans could not fucking take it when he killed his fellow Decepticon Kaon for a stupid fuckin reason lmfAO smh my head

it's so tragic because I don't even actually hate the DJD as characters, I think they're great villains. When Tarn showed his ass up in Cyberverse I nearly shit my pants with fear, and that's great! That's the mark of a good fuckin villain character! And even him being so pretentious is great because it makes you REALLY wanna see him get defeated! He's an excellent heel! But MAN were Tarn stans the most obnoxious people alive lmFAO they absolutely tainted him for me which is a shame

lol look at this idiot sulking in the snow because his idol denounced his cause ha ha get rendered obsolete, stupid

honestly Deathsaurus is so valid, get his ass

I cannot wait for Megatron to kill all their asses lmfAO god I cannot wait to get to the Dying of the Light, it's my absolute favorite arc and I'll talk about exactly why once we get there

MTMTE 40

and this one's my favorite individual issue, this is the issue that encapsulates everything I love about this comic, this is what it's all about

urhgjdf Pharma was so close to avoiding Delphi... just the nearest miss........

love the setup of Swerve arranging all these glasses for Tailgate to comically crash into and then he just crashes into Ratchet instead, get wrecked grandpa

aww Swerve don't be mean to Ten, it ain' t his fault your bar's empty

Love Chromedome being Brainstorm's defense lawyer in this trial. Also love Brainstorm immediately throwing Rewind under the bus lmAO I mean he's right but also, hilarious thing to try to pull, all things considered

ooh Nautica's so mad

hell yeah Brainstorm, you're right and you should say it, it's not fair to try to pin the actions of alternate Brainstorm on this Brainstorm, and good for Percy for standing up for him too

loooooooove Ratchet glaring while Brainstorm tells Rodimus he doesn't want to be kicked off the ship because it's his home. It was Drift's home too...

oouufgjd love Getaway feeding Tailgate bullshit significantly less, it's so agonizing watching him slowly manipulate him over the course of the comic

love Ratchet lowkey inviting all his closest friends for a final chat under the guise of checking for “super scraplets,” just stupid enough of a thing to be possible

“The only time people really talk to him is when they're sick- and I know how that feels.” RatcheeEEEETTT........🥺

ghsdfjk Ratchet setting Megatron up for failure in Mirage's bar is so mean lmAO but I mean. All he did was suggest Megatron do a poetry reading, it's Megatron's self-made reputation that's gonna make it a failure, so...

also love how First Aid is immediately onto Ratchet, “You know you can just. Ask to talk to your friends like a normal person right”

Ratchet is so sweet with Ten I'm gonna fuckin cry lmfAO

Magnus is Ten's favorite I'm gonna rip the arms of my chair clean oFF

and there he goes, off to find his man... I like. Still can't believe this happened lmfAO when Drift got exiled, I was fully prepared to never see his ass ever again, I figured his relevance was over and if we ever do see him again it'll be a bit part in a different series written by someone else, I can't believe that he was allowed to be cared about enough for someone to want him back, and especially for that someone to be Ratchet. Being a long-time Dratchet shipper while this comic was still going was just a constant stream of Ws and it was wild to experience lmFAO I had never won that hard in my life, I didn't know what to do with myself

also I just remembered, didn't Empire of Stone come out before this issue? So we already knew Ratchet went to go find Drift, we just didn't know when or why, or if it even actually was Ratchet lmfAO I definitely remember a theory floating around that the Ratchet in EOS was a hallucination or something. I also remember thinking, “Oh god, what horrible thing happened that made Ratchet have to leave the Lost Light,” and being floored when the answer was just that he personally wanted Drift back, there was no emergency, he just missed him. Like. What the fuck that's gay........

#mtmte retrospective

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queersatanic · 2 years ago

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Lucien Greaves on "The View" and "Network [N-words]"

Via The.Satanic.Wiki

On Sept. 11, 2003, future co-owner of The Satanic Temple Doug "Lucien Greaves" Misicko, his friend and collaborator Shane Bugbee, and Shane Bugbee's wife Amy Stocky hosted a 24-hour Internet radio stream with guests and callers to mark the release of their new edition of the proto-fascist manifesto Might Is Right. The following year, Doug Misicko continued to appear on Internet radio streams with Shane and Amy. "The ABCs of the Alphabet" was one such program. This is an excerpt from one of those recordings.

CW: anti-Black slurs, antisemitism, racism

Full transcript in lieu of captions:

Letter I

22:15 Doug Misicko We're doing the alphabet. We're starting each show with a letter, and just going- That's our very generalized theme. It's our theme without a theme. We bring up a letter, first word comes to mind, and we discuss this is our panel kinda like those five big, fat black Negros and sit and talk about-

22:34 Shane Bugbee Rotund. (Doug Misicko: Yeah.) We don't use the "f-word" in this house.

22:38 Doug Misicko"Inflated" for "I".

22:40 Shane Bugbee Oh god, inflated? (Amy Bugbee: There you go.) Worse than- worse than fat. "Inflated". (Doug Misicko: Right.) But like the five big flat- fat black Negro, what?

22:49 Doug Misicko Big- uhh, I think it's five big, big inflated Negros that discuss things on a show. I dunno, there's some morning show.

23:00 Shane Bugbee I've never seen it. (Doug Misicko: Yeah, nevermind.) Is it "The View"?

23:01 Doug Misicko Yeah, I think that's what it is.

23:02 Shane Bugbee Are they all Negros?

23:03 Doug Misicko I think so.

23:06 Shane Bugbee Barbara Walters is on there.

23:08 Doug Misicko She's a Negro.

23:09 Shane Bugbee Exactly.

23:11 Amy Bugbee Yep. She's Jewish.

23:13 Doug Misicko She's some- No, oh, uh, she's a- she's a network (Shane Bugbee: Idiot?) -nigger, is what she is. (Shane Bugbee: Right.) She was paid one time- she did an interview with the CEO of Philip Morris to give them good publicity at the time when they were having a lot of bad publicity. Now, if that's not being a network nigger, I don't know what is. (Shane Bugbee: Exactly.) You know, she talked to him, and he was able to cry crocodile tears and talk about what a beleaguered, nice man he is and everything else. And the guy's making a fucking killing off of lying on medical reports. They made the issue into, "Everybody knew that smoking was bad for you." And they took away from the issue of they fucking lied on medical reports and their corporate charter should have been revoked. Anytime you do that, you set a bad precedent you should be stopped. Shane Bugbee: Or killed.) Had they not been lying, it would have been different story. (Shane Bugbee: Or killed.) Right? (Amy Bugbee: What were they lying about on medical records?) Yeah, they were lying and saying that there was no evidence that smoking caused cancer and everything else. And I have no problem with a company selling something that's carcinogenic. Something that's going to kill people and everything else. It's fine. People want to take it then after that, It's up to them. (Shane Bugbee: Right) When they lie about it, that's a whole different story.

#The Satanic Temple #Satanic Temple #Lucien Greaves #ABCs of the Alphabet #cw racism #cw antisemitism

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lies-unfurl · 6 months ago

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sorry, this got so long, i definitely got off topic to cry about stevebucky and sambucky and you did not ask for the novel length of this 😬

okay, I finished that silly little book. I can appreciate it for the fact that we finally have some more exploration of bucky’s character signed off by marvel but I went into this without having read the blurb (my own fault) and so to discover it was an AU, I started reading it before I sent you that ask, was kind of disappointing. I really wanted to love this but the way bucky was portrayed in here almost felt cartoonish and wildly out of character, more a bumbling idiot than the sharp, responsible buck we know and love, and you couldn't really tell bucky was seventeen for the most part, he almost felt like a twelve year old kid in the way he acted.

it’s also intended for a young audience so I guess this is why that 1941 plotline had to be dragged out for so long. I do think it’s funny that the entire “who the hell is bucky” moment was with an actually confirmed lover in this book, which kind of confirms stucky was romantic, if you squint. maybe not. and oh my god, steve!! he was there for like two minutes, but I loved that quick little interaction they had.

(and I mean, I can get behind the au thing of it all but how in the hell did bucky survive cryostasis and the torture without the supersoldier serum? 😭I KNOW it’s a comic book based story, but still)

I loved this book for the 1954 storyline, god. the reason why even wears the mask to begin with broke my heart all over again. the last two chapters and his mission in riga really sealed the deal for me. so, if anything, I’m glad I read this book for those chapters. the last two chapters were so good.

mostly I just feel resentment towards the mcu for sidelining bucky’s character for years. there is so much potential, or was, I wasn’t a fan or even aware of the cap trilogy back in 2014 but having watched ca:tws now I felt like, okay, after this it’s finally time to explore bucky’s character more in-depth. I felt like this was the set up to finally tell bucky’s story. and why didn’t they? he’s one of the most beloved characters ever. it’s crazy to me how homophobic those marvel execs must have been, they saw sebastian stan and chris evans had a little too much chemistry and were like nah, we can’t ever let those two be seen on screen together for longer than five minutes. and I love stevebucky, I do. but I didn’t expect marvel to ever go there. just a movie exploring bucky’s life as the winter soldier from 1945 to 2016 and after. his friendship with nat, those years on the run, wakanda, maybe. I’m so glad fanfic exists bc it definitely fills that void but I kind of feel bad for sebastian bc he clearly had expectations and wants for that character that he never saw fulfilled. the state of the mcu just makes me want to scream, thinking about tfatws feels like a fever dream now knowing that in cap4 and thunderbolts the writers will just “forget” this show ever happened. forever mad that they never hired good writers after cap2 who actually cared about these characters and narrative coherency.

this book just made me want to reread not easily conquered and dive back into the steve/bucky tag for good wwii fics. these characters had so much potential! and they went nowhere with them! I think on a panel in 2018 cevans joked about a potential tv show or something where they could dive into steve and bucky’s lives in the 40s and then immediately said it’d be impossible to make this show.

No worries anon, I'm happy to hear your take on things! And I do largely agree with you. The teen Bucky section wasn't nearly as strong as the Winter Soldier stuff. In the comics, you can see that young!Bucky struggles with being impulsive, at least partially because he's driven by this desperate need to prove himself. In the book, he was just like... kind of dumb lol (and also weirdly sexist at first, in a way that was probably realistic for the time frame, but still very off-putting).

But the 1954 chapters are much more compelling, especially towards the end. I kind of wish it hadn't been a YA novel, because I think it could've leaned deeper into the sort of slow-burning horror aspect of the Winter Soldier gradually realizing that he doesn't know who he is, and he can't trust any of the people around him. Like you said, the last two chapters were gripping, probably the highlight of the book.

As for everything else... lol, yeah. I've resigned myself to the fact that the MCU will never live up to what I want it to be. Which is a franchise that like... actually cares about its characters lol. Instead, it's more interested in expanding, creating new properties to milk dry and then move on, only occasionally giving us crumbs of the stories that roped people in in the first place. I'd love a WWII-era show, or really anything that gets into the backstories for Steve, Sam, or Bucky. And I think it could be really cool to tell those stories in some of the animated shows. But I also don't think that's going to happen lol.

I think you hit the nail on the head by calling TFATWS a "fever dream." I will be seeing C4 and Thunderbolts, and I'm glad to get new content, but... tbh I would be more excited if I believed we'd get a Sam and Bucky reunion down the line. Unfortunately, I'm not super optimistic that'll happen.

But! That's what we have fandom for, at least.

#captain america

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tsyllaes · 8 months ago

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Next group to come, the rest of Shizaaqa's advisory panel. The first two have been Fern and Ylang Ylang, whose proviles have been more about their clandestine activities. These ones are just making up the numbers. There's no set number of advisors on a queen's or empress' panel, though it's always an odd number, usually 5, 7 or 9. Shiz has five, because I can't be bothered making more than that for a bunch of people who're going to have no affect on the plot Shizaaqa doesn't believe she needs more cos she's arrogant.

I realised I have no characters at all starting with P, so here's one. I like drawing old people and all the creases and saggy bits =3

NAME Advisor Paandis WHO IS THIS PERSON Member of Empress Shizaaqa's advisory panel, and was previously on her mother, Empress Yasina's, panel GENDER Female AGE 72

Hard as nails and 100% dedicated to the throne, though she held more respect for Empress Yasina than she does Shizaaqa. She used to have grand ambitions under Yasina, but they don't align with Shizaaqa's. Over the past… however long Shizaaqa's been in charge, and it's been a couple of decades, Paandis has gone from irritated, to resigned, to fully on Shizaaqa's side. She'll always back her empress, no matter who it is. She's also been working on Assili, moulding her mind to heed the advice of her advisors, whoever they end up being. She knows it's not going to be her--on the off chance Shizaaqa dies before Paandis, she's retiring--but she can still do something for the next generation.

I think she came out a little younger than I'd intended? I was going for mid-40s but I feel like she looks more early 30s. Ah well, they use a lot of creams and anti-aging stuff in Kazin. Her makeup and Colours are fun.

NAME Advisor Eiraz WHO IS THIS PERSON Member of Shizaaqa's advisory panel, and Shizaaqa's… cousin once removed? Yeah. Her mother (Peshna, coming up) and Shizaaqa's mother are cousins GENDER Female AGE 46

Way more self-important than she has any right to be because of her distant relationship to the empress, though the two were pretty close growing up and hold very similar ideals. She loves her tiny baby cousin Assili and does a hella good job sucking up to her to keep her position when she takes the throne. She's a little sus on Isama (alias Ylang-Ylang) but Shiz doesn't seem to worry about her so she's sure it's fine.

Peshna just wears makeup to cover how tired she is. Poor old lady.

NAME Advisoris Peshna WHO IS THIS PERSON Member of Shizaaqa's advisory panel, and the former empress, Yasina's, cousin. Also Eiraz' mother GENDER Female AGE 67

Peshna is so tired :< She's been on the advisory panel since her cousin, Yasina, took the throne, and now, with Shizaaqa there, she feels like she's the only one who actually gives a shit about the rest of the empire. As in, its people, not just its international reputation or how much more money she can get into its coffers. She's not entirely wrong. She's constantly fighting a losing battle, carefully crafting her words to avoid pissing off the empress, but ultimately never manages to get anything done because Shizaaqa just doesn't care. She had hopes for Assili, but seeing her grow up so much in her mother's image… Peshna's just tired.

(The -is suffix on Advisoris indicates a familial relationship to the empress. Same applies to army boys, with Commanderis, Sergentis, etc.)

#kazin #advisory panel #advisoris peshna #advisor paandis #advisor eiraz #characters #kazinian characters #artists of tumblr

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anumberofhobbies · 1 year ago

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What advice would you give to a new hobbyist? Model railroading is perhaps the greatest hobby because it incorporates almost every discipline into one adventure. It has something for everyone, but do not be put off if you are not good in all of them, because no one is. Approach building a model empire by thinking of it as separate pieces. Just like a car engine is made of a whole lot of items that work together, break down the modeling projects into individual units that will come together to make a complete package. Baby steps. Know your space. Select an area for the modeling project where the environment is controllable. Keep dust and dirt out as well as regulating the humidity. You will be working with different kinds of wood, metals, paper products, plastics, etc., which all expand and contract at dissimilar rates and react to water differently. Trackwork will not stay in alignment under adverse conditions, which will result in derailments and electrical issues. This will ruin your day and cause no end of frustrations. Also select a modeling subject that will nicely fit your space. Do not try and jam too much into it. When attending a recent convention with a panel of modelers answering questions, one person asked how he could start to build a prototype railroad. Being a prototype modeler for more than 35 years, my answer would have been to select an operating area on your prototype railroad that will fit your space, which includes trackwork, industries, and buildings. In my experience, I modeled the Midland and thought about including the iconic station on the railroad at Leadville, Colorado. This couldn’t be because I had other things I wanted to include. The size of the station alone with its accompanying trackwork would have required a 40’ long section of almost straight track. If you want to “finish” a layout, calibrate your ambitions with your allotted time. Consider both hours per week, how long you plan on living in a home, and how long you are going to probably live. For those who do not care about “finishing,” build what you want. I could go on and on, but after all, the hobby is about having fun, which can come in a variety of ways. Enjoy.

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wigglebox · 2 years ago

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NYCC The Winchesters - 1x01 screening, panel

Good morning/afternoon/evening people!

So I had to take a break from art in order to write down my first impressions on things for the prequel pilot and the subsequent panel after.

Note that I haven’t had any time to watch any interviews the folks did before the screening/panel, so this is just me writing what I experienced in ~*the room where it happened*~. The bulk will be behind a read more!

** Note, I try to avoid mega spoilers but I do go into my impressions of the pilot and my emotions with it, AND I do outline the characters. I try not to get into the nitty gritty since y’all will mostly be seeing it tomorrow anyway, but if you don’t want even a HINT of a spoiler, just don’t read it lol.

The tldr; I loved it, it has so much to expand on, and I can’t wait to start speculating with y’all again on something SPN based.

—

I won’t lie, I was nervous.

Not because I didn’t think this show wouldn’t do a good job, because it’s made it this far — which is a lot considering the last two attempts at a spin-off were dead in the water. I was more or less nervous of the audience reception.

Living in one's own head as a Supernatural fan makes you and your goldfish bowl of friends in your Twitter GC and Discord servers, have a set of parameters of what makes a good Supernatural episode or not. But not everyone else shares those parameters that you have convinced yourself are right.

And I was nervous because, given those parameters, I had to keep reminding myself that this isn’t Supernatural. It is its own thing. It’s its own form, own show, with a connection to the main show. These are new characters, even if we knew the older versions of two of them already. Everything is still basically brand new.

My nerves came from a mixture of anticipation, fearing audience reception after the year and a half wait we had to think about this show, and not knowing if I or the audience can see this show as its own individual self and not just another Supernatural episode.

Suffice to say after like, the first five minutes those nerves were gone.

The Pilot

I’m going to get this out of the way before I continue. Pilots aren’t ever perfect. Even Supernatural’s pilot, which is a pilot that I consider to be top-tier, has some clunkiness.

Pilots can drag, or pilots can speed — there’s rarely an inbetween. The Winchesters pilot seemed to be a little fast paced, trying to introduce the premise of the show a little too quick. The pacing of events and understanding and dialogue kind of felt like this should have been a two hour episode and not the 40 minute one we’re going to get.

And, some of the dialogue, just like in its predecessor, was indeed clunky exposition.

But I’m saying this as someone who yes, understands that’s what that was — but also someone who doesn’t take this into account when it comes to what makes a pilot successful. In fact, I never expect perfection in pilots.

The Winchesters pilot has a lot riding on it. Not only is it the third attempt at a spin off, but it’s having to perform two duties where the original Supernatural pilot only had to do one.

The Winchesters pilot has to both grab old fans, and intrigue new ones. The original Supernatural pilot just had to attract new fans and build up a new world.

So, given that The Winchesters has to do a little extra work, and given that it’s a network pilot, a pilot in general — for me — the fast-paced nature of the episode doesn’t really affect it negatively for me. I expected it, and I’m sure others did as well.

A successful pilot for me is 1) am I interested in this world/characters 2) did you make me ask enough questions to come back next week?

And, The Winchesters scored on both of those accounts!

The episode opens up with its standard cold open where you mostly see a character you have no idea who they are, doing something that’s going to launch you into the next 45 minutes of adventure with the main characters. But, this cold open also has to launch us into the entire season. It’s the first-ever cold open for The Winchesters and it worked very well.

I’m not going to get too much into plot, to keep this spoiler free, however I will say in my head I described it as the Scooby Doo Avengers. When I say Scooby Doo I don’t mean campy, zoinks, goofy monsters of the week — but that there is this team, that is clearly already close, willing to do what it takes to figure something out. And... they have a van lol.

In the group there is tension already from the get go, which I love. By group, I mean Lata [Latika but Lata is her nickname], Mary, and Carlos have already known each other.

Small spoiler, but at once point Lata tells, not asks, Mary “You’re still mad at me.” Carlos and Mary have tension and unresolved past things that they gotta talk about at some point probably. And John blends in with them rather effortlessly. I will say I’ll be keeping my eyes on John and Lata right now.

But all four of them had a chemistry that already worked. Not like “Oh we all love each other here, no problems at all!” kind of chemistry, but chemistry where you can tell that interactions aren’t being forced. Almost like they’ve been acting together for years by that point, even though they hadn’t.

That was another thing I enjoyed about this core four, the fact that they’re each their own characters but they’re also not standing out too much from each other. That they both don’t blend into each other, but also they’re not so over the top it feels like a caricature.

Here are my first impressions of the characters:

Lata is a book nerd, clearly the “brains” but she’s also rather timid, nervous about hunts, and finds her satisfying success when it comes to what she’s learned on the page rather than hunting down a monster. She’s softer-spoken, and I can see her being the more level-headed grounded one of the group. However, I can also see where her self doubt can get the better of her, and her fear, and given a conversation she has with Mary in the van — I have to wonder if something bad happened in the recent past that made her like this.

Mary is the kind of Mary I felt like we got with Sam Smith. Marching forward, doing what she has to do, almost “going through the motions” of being a Hunter. She already voices her desire to walk away from this, and it’s hinted in that conversation with Lata, something went wrong recently that caused a big upheaval in her life. But that’s kind of a plot point that can be saved for when you watch it Tuesday. Of all four of the characters, it felt like I knew Mary the most because we got later-seasons Mary for a hot second. However, you can see how Meg Donnelly brings her own understanding of the character to the table. I am so very interested to see where she goes throughout this series.

Carlos will be the problem child (affectionate). When the role was first cast, and you got his description, you saw JoJo getting cast, and then seeing him in the trailer, folks already pinged on him being the fandom favorite and I can see that. He’s sharp, witty, already has some one-liners, and I can easily see him causing but also solving problems for the group. One thing that gets me is that he comes across as almost stubborn, not willing to admit when he’s wrong, so I can imagine that comes back into play. That indication comes with a small conversation with Lata over something that happened in the past. It’s played off as a “ha ha,” but if you think about it deeper, you’re seeing someone who knows what he wants and likely will do what he has to do to get it. There are definitely two Alphas in this group, Carlos and Mary, and I can see them butting heads at some point.

And now we’re at John.

When this prequel was first leaked onto Deadline in June 2021, folks (save for myself and a few others that were on my timeline and Discord) immediately rocketed to their feet to voice their displeasure at John being a focal point.

Accusations of trying to twist the narrative and make excuses for John’s behavior in Supernatural-Prime (neglect, child abuse, etc.), or that the constant reminder that John and Mary’s love story was manufactured so how on earth could you have a story about it — or just the attitude in fandom that’s been in there since I’VE started, back in 2013, that John Winchester is an Asshole.

But, a few pointed out that indeed we don’t actually know anything about John aside from his father, Henry, “walking out” on him and his mother, and… that was it. The flashback episodes we had with Matt Cohen’s John were that of a story that we kinda already figured. “In the Beginning” was more about Mary and showing Dean how that deal was made, and “The Song Remains the Same” served as a lesson for Dean and Sam to understand that they “can’t escape fate” with their bloodline.

Nothing’s really known about John at all, especially before 1973.

That being said, I really have to spend this portion completely cheering Drake’s John on because holy moly.

Drake has, and will continue to have, an uphill battle trying to get the most hardened Anti-John folk on board (a struggle Matt Cohen didn’t have to have as much I think). But, given the life that he’s brought to John in this pilot alone, I don’t think it’ll be too much of a struggle.

I joked that with them casting Drake that “it’s almost like they want us to love and adore him” but I’m not even joking anymore. I adore him.

Indeed, it’s important to note that this John is not the John we wind up with in the main show. And the cast and everyone involved knows that and have stated as such in interviews. They’re not erasing or rewriting anything.

The truth, for me, is far more tragic:

The John in the pilot is likable with an almost puppy-like innocence, looking to get answers but also someone dealing with trauma himself as someone who went into the Vietnam War way too early and suffered the consequences of that. I won’t get into specifics, but there’s a touching moment when he’s describing what he saw and what happened to a dear friend and I almost cried.

You have a kid, and yes I’m calling him a kid, suffering from this trauma in a way that you see twice in the episode, while also someone keeping his head held high while following orders and the motions from his new group of Scooby Doo hunters that he stumbled into.

When asked how he found someone so fast, John remarks that’s what he does because he was in the Marines. So we get little glimpses of that.

His ending moment after the final climax of the action was so adorable I wanted to squish his cheeks and yes, I know that’s weird, but he was so proud of himself.

But, in my opinion, it also demonstrated something that I think may or may not come back — and that’s that he did what he did down there in the tomb almost a little too easily and without freaking out. And was excited to tell his new friends about it.

John in this show I think will become someone that even the most reluctant watchers may come to find they really like.

And to me, that’s making him automatically, from episode one, one of the most tragic characters.

Already in the pilot, I was mentally screaming for John to turn back, don’t investigate, don’t do any of this, because we know what’s waiting for him down this path.

I have to mentally make a line in the sand to separate Drake from Matt from JDM because there’s no way I can continue going with The Winchesters and not completely support and adore John and his efforts to understand the Men of Letters and also being with his friends.

With characters out of the way, I’ll mention we don’t get much with Ada or Millie, however I can’t wait to see more of them in the future and what they have to offer. Millie seemingly already knew about the Men of Letters and Ada — in my head when she was first announced as a character I saw her as a Bobby character, just the know it all that can be their “save us because we don’t know what else to do!” character. However it feels like she can, and likely will be, more than that.

As for the plot of the episode, this is where my “Is a pilot successful” requirement is filled for “Are there enough questions to keep me coming back.”

The answer is, holy shit yes.

Particularly two things, which I can’t wait to speculate on when the episode airs. One involves John and his letter with the Men of Letters star on it, and the other of who the big bad is for the entire season. I’m so excited to speculate with people on that.

But also, this hunters world in the 1970s is so different to me than what we were first introduced to in 2005. They don’t have cell phones, they don’t have GPS, they don’t have computers, they don’t have quick ways of communicating with each other. They will have a network, sure, but its the 70s. They also don’t have access to THEE Men of Letters bunker, at least for now, which holds a lot of information as well.

So I have questions about those too.

I didn’t want this show to just be about “hey let’s do a case study on John” and it doesn’t feel like it’s going to be that. I don’t mind that, but I also wanted this show to stand on its own.

And it’s clear that they’re looking at it in a way that will provide an actual story that can get folded back into Supernatural-Prime.

The Panel

After the pilot screening, there was a 30 minute panel with Danneel, Jensen, Meg, Drake, and Robbie and holy wow.

I wish I could convey to anyone reading this, especially anyone who had any doubts over anything, just how much this group cares.

Like, it’s not even just in their words saying it, but you can feel it, and I wasn’t even in the front row. It was this like, almost electrical current in the air that could reach you and make you truly, fully, 100% understand that they’re not doing this just for kicks.

They’re not just tossing aside whatever they want, that they’re not just doing this as a cash grab or anything — but that they’re a team of creatives that really truly wholly believe in this world that the main show created and wanted to explore that more.

They do treat the existing material with respect, and that they’re not going to just throw all those 15 years of blood sweat and tears down the drain.

I remember in the months following the Deadline leak, folks online kept stamping their feet about canon this and canon that. We haven’t had much press until just recently about it therefore come comments that would be made at a Supernatural convention by Jackles from time to time would have to suffice, but still didn’t convince many.

I think at the time also, when the Deadline leak happened, a lot of opposition I saw came from younger fans, or newer fans, who started season 12 and onward (or even after the show ended) and didn’t quite understand just how monumental it was that Robbie was brought on board.

Robbie stopped writing for the show in season 11 and I wanted to take an informal survey of fandom asking them if they truly understood the word that he did. Some folks don’t pay attention to who writes what.

His episodes I find tend to be some of the most gif’ed episodes on Tumblr or most talked about episodes in general. Any one of his episodes you’d likely find up in any fan’s top 10 list. He’s given us Charlie, Eileen, and even had a hand in bringing Chuck back both in Fan Fiction and in Don’t Call Me Shurely.

For many folks who were in fandom before Andrew Dabb took over some time in season 11, Robbie was easily one of the top three writers for many people.

And there’s a good reason for that. Between writing snappy dialogue and getting characterizations down really well, he’s also seemingly a master at these unconventional episodes. He’s had more normal ones like Goodbye Stranger, 8x17, and First Born (9x11) among others, but he’s also done Baby, Girl with the Dungeons and Dragons Tattoo, LARP and the Real Girl, Bitten, Fan Fiction, Meta Fiction and the like.

He’s written episodes that were great for character showcasing while also having unconventional storytelling apparatuses as well. My favorite one of his episodes was Time After Time, 7x12.

Suffice it to say, them grabbing Robbie for this project really stood out to me, which is probably why when Deadline first leaked the project, I wasn’t upset. To me, if Robbie was involved, then that’s really all I needed to feel secure in knowing that whatever, or however, they were going to tell this story, he’ll have fun figuring it out.

And I can’t even begin to describe how much it really does come across how much Jackles cares.

It’s very very easy for someone with that amount of talent to just peace out from a 15-year show that ended, a show that likely made taking other roles nearly impossible, and just go on to do bigger things.

But the fact that he stuck around and that even before the show wrapped in Sept. 2020 (due to the pandemic) he was already starting on this? That means a lot to me. Like, no matter what he does, he seems to want to keep one hand on his roots and that can only benefit us because you don’t do that unless you really believe in it and care about it.

It’s also hilarious to me that in these press interviews, he’s basically being outed as THEE biggest SPN brain rot stan and, he’s not alone there. We have jackets, dude!

So yes, up on stage, with them answering questions and describing the process, how they’re viewing this — you can tell there’s a reverence they have for the material and understand truly how much time, energy, blood, sweat, tears, smiles, sadness, chaos had gone into the main show.

The pilot was good, it was something that would keep me interested with the characters they presented and the premise of the rest of the season to come. It established that we’re not in 2005-2020 anymore, it established a kind of big bad that we’re not used to seeing*, and it had enough easter eggs that satisfied my little Supernatural heart but not over doing it.

*This is something I can’t wait to speculate about.

On a personal note, I’ve been excited since that night, and had felt almost like I was in limbo for the last year and a half waiting for this moment and it was so satisfying seeing the pilot and understanding that my excitement and enthusiasm wasn’t misplaced in the slightest.

I went into this with the question of “Will I be disappointed in all of this hype that I’ve helped build up for this, both in my head and outwardly?” And the screening and panel shot back: “Nah you’re good.”

So I can’t wait to rewatch this Tuesday night, and then I can’t wait to watch it the following Tuesday, and again, and again.

I’m excited for The Winchesters to grow its wings and fly!

#long post #spnwin #the winchesters #spn #supernatural #nycc22 #i left out a lot of spoilery things #and still can be kinda spoilery so keep that in mind!

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lefttigerobservation · 3 years ago

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on another note i finished the secret history today (16th dec— this is actually been a draft for ages asdjfhd). screaming. it was very, very well-written. this'll be a long-form work in progress but i wanted to share my favourite parts of the book. feel free to gloss over this <3

(pg 38— absolutely made me laugh)

He pointed to me as if he were the host of a panel discussion on a talk show. "And you, what's-your-name, Robert? What sort of pens did they teach you to use in California?"

"Ball points," I said.

Bunny nodded deeply. "An honest man, gentlemen. Simple tastes. Lays his cards on the table. I like that."

(pg 40— richard's first glimpse of julian's discussions, which are glorified monologues and Brilliant. i adore the sentiment because it's so relatable, in a weird way)

"(...) It is a terrible thing to learn as a child that one is a being separate from all the world, that no one and no thing hurts along with one's burned tongues and skinned knees, that one's aches and pains are all one's own. Even more terrible, as we grow older, to learn that no person, no matter how beloved, can truly understand us. Our own selves make us most unhappy, and that's why we're so anxious to lose them, don't you think?"

(pg 45— henry being a weird-ass man from the get-go; Richard being awestruck but overall meh)

"(...) Are we, in this room, really very different from the Greeks or the Romans? Obsessed with duty, piety, loyalty, sacrifice? All those things which are to modern tastes so chilling?"

I looked around the table at the six faces. To modern tastes they were somewhat chilling. I imagine any other teacher would've been on the phone to Psychological Counselling in about five minutes had heard what Henry said about arming the Greek glass and marching into Hampden town.

(pg 47— beauty is terror. WHAT A LINE)

"Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it."

also pg 47 is this:

"If we are strong enough in our souls we can rip away the veil and look that naked, terrible beauty right in the face: let God consume us, devour us, unstring our bones. Then spit us out reborn."

(pg 50— donna tartt's descriptive writing strikes again!)

"He was, if possible, even a bigger windbag than Dr Roland. Together, they were like one of those superhero alliances in the comic books, invincible, an unconquerable confederation of boredom and confusion."

(pg 59— bunny being, at first, a lovable idiot. i thoroughly despise him but he is written Impeccably)

"(...) why don't you buy yourself some Berlitz records and brush up on your French. Find a little can-can girl or something. Voolay-voo coushay avec moi and all that."

(pg 61— i don't want to go into it, obviously, but this is where i begin to thoroughly despise bunny for his really shitty homophobia and anti-semitism that made me, for a split second, wonder whether this was being canonically condoned. man, this must read like a satire at times! /hj)

(pg 64— charles and camilla slowly becoming more suspicious with bunny's "but I wouldn't want to marry him, would I?" line)

(pg 72— the ravens' mild foreshadowing, which i quickly googled albeit belatedly)

"Three of them for three of us. That's an augury, I bet."

"An omen."

"Of what?" I said.

"Don't know," said Charles. "Henry's the ornithomantist. The bird-diviner."

(pg 75— henry's 'aesthetic objection' to standardised tests lmao)

(pg 82— richard being genuinely depressed by reading the great gatsby because they seemed to be too similar)

(pg 96— the first impression of closeness between henry and richard)

"You're not very happy where you come from, are you?" he said.

I was startled at this Holmes-like deduction. He smiled at my evident discomfiture.

"Don't worry. You hide it very cleverly," he said, going back to his book. Then he looked up again. "The others really don't understand that sort of thing, you know."

He said that without malice, without empathy, without even much in the way of interest. I was not even sure what he meant, but for the first time, I had a glimmer of something I had not previously understood: why the others were all so fond of him. (...)

I doubt if Milton himself could have impressed me more.

(pg 98— henry's surprise about the moon landing)

Once, over dinner, Henry was quite startled to learn from me that men had walked on the moon. "No," he said, putting down his fork.

"It's true," chorused the rest, who had somehow managed to pick this up along the way.

"I don't believe it."

"I saw it," said Bunny. "It was on television."

"How did they get there? When did this happen?").

(pg 101— marion and bunny being completely predictably chaotic)

It would be Marion, her little mouth tight, looking like a small, angry doll.

"Is Bunny there?" she would say, stretching up on tiptoe and craning to look past me into the room.

"He's not here."

"Are you sure?"

"He's not here, Marion."

"Bunny!" she would call ominously.

No answer.

"Bunny!"

And then, to my acute embarrassment, Bunny would emerge sheepishly in the doorway. "Hello, sweetie."

(pg 107— richard's life at francis's country house)

Everything, somehow, fit together; some sly and benevolent Providence was revealing itself by degrees and I felt myself trembling on the brink of a fabulous discovery, as though any morning it was all going to come together - my future, my past, the whole of my life - and I was going to sit up in bed like a thunderbolt and say oh! oh! oh!

(pg 109— the description of "launching merrily down the path of sin again.")

(pg 119— richard's sudden desire to just live at the country house forever; his lack of plans)

(pg 137— richard, liminal. ghost imagery.... so prevalent omw.)

It seemed my whole life was composed of these disjointed fractions of time, hanging around in one public place and then another, as if I were waiting for trains that never came. And, like one of those ghosts who are said to linger around depots late at night, asking passers-by for the timetable of the Midnight Express that derailed twenty years before, I wandered from light to light until that dreaded hour when all the doors closed and, stepping from the world of and warmth people and conversation overheard, I felt the old familiar cold twist through my bones again and then it was all forgotten, the warmth, the lights; I had never been warm in my life, ever.

(pg 139— dr roland and richard's incredibly chaotic relationship, even if they barely speak)

I was at Dr Roland's office every morning like clockwork. He, an alleged psychologist, noticed not one of the Ten Warning Signs of Nervous Collapse or whatever it was he was educated to see, and qualified to teach.

(pg 141— richard's hallucinations and me being very very worried)

(pg 146, 149— literally just henry being kind to richard in hospital and at his home)

(pg 176— hello i am very mad at bunny's anti-semitism)

(pg 196— i am forever terrified by henry's description of the ritual, thank you donna tartt /hj)

(pg 204— i don't even know, i was so perturbed by this at this point. it begun to sit awfully with me but.)

"(...) Scarcely an hour before, we'd all been really, truly out of our minds. And it may be a superhuman effort to lose oneself so completely, but that's nothing compared to the effort of getting oneself back again."

(pg 227— bunny's habit of leaving crumbs in notebooks.)

(pg 229— i am deeply worried about the fact that richard would rather have died than ask his rich friends for money. crying)

(pg 235— the entire page, solely for how richard feels so close to the greek class because they see the world so beautifully)

(pg 262— the culminating realisation that bunny was a shitty person and continued to mock and nip at them)

(pg 263— this one line.)

Love doesn't conquer everything. And whoever thinks it does is a fool.

(pg 264— bunny's misogyny. more blue angry noises)

(pg 266— suspicious camilla and charles........)

(pg 326— richard after bunny's death, reflecting)

Not that everything 'went black', nothing of the sort; only that the event itself is cloudy because of some primitive, numbing effect that obscured it at the time; the same effect, I suppose, that enables panicked mothers to swim icy rivers, or rush into burning houses, for a child; the effect that occasionally allows a deeply bereaved person to make it through a funeral without a single tear. Some things are too terrible to grasp at once. Other things — naked, sputtering, indelible in their horror — are too terrible to really ever grasp at all. It is only later, in solitude, in memory, that the realisation have departed; when one looks around and finds oneself — quite to one's surprise — in an entirely different world.

(pg 329— henry's insistence that the snow is 'just going to kill all the flowers')

(pg 335— richard, high, being so touched by someone offering him More shit)

(pg 347— richard hungover and terribly shaken)

It was almost dark. There was a horrible, erratic humping in my chest, as if a large bird were trapped inside my ribcage and beating itself to death. Gasping, I lay back on my bed. (...)

(pg 347 & 348— absolutely laughing over how richard is just so confused about him crying)

(pg 349— everyone being embarrassed about the movies they fake saw)

(pg 355— charles being near tears and.)

"But how," said Charles, who was close to tears, "how could you possibly justify cold-blooded murder?"

Henry lit a cigarette. "I prefer to think of it," he had said, "as redistribution of matter."

(pg 367— this absolutely funny line about uta/ursula)

Besides being a house chairperson and a vigorous member of the student council, she was also the president of a leftist group off campus, and was always trying to mobilise the youth of Hampden in the face of crushing indifference.

(pg 380— henry being so bored by the 'nonsense' following bunny's death)

"(...) Honestly. Two hours. I don't know if I could've made myself go through with this if I'd known what nonsense we were letting ourselves in for."

(pg 389— francis and henry content)

"Someone would have to dig pretty deep to find that."

"Someone would only have to make two or three well-placed phone calls."

Just then the telephone rang.

"Oh, God," Francis wailed.

"Don't answer it," said Henry.

But Francis picked it up anyway, as I knew he would.

(pg 393— MORE francis and henry content)

He was running the water and I was on my way out when the phone rang.

It was Henry. "Oh," he said. "I'm sorry. I thought I dialed Francis."

"You did. Hold on a second." I put down the phone and called for him.

He came in in his trousers and undershirt, his face half-lathered, a razor in his hand. "Who is it?"

"Henry."

"Tell him I'm in the bath."

"He's in the bath," I said.

"He is not in the bath," said Henry. "He is standing in the room with you. I can hear him."

(pg 400— julian out here doing it for the aesthetics. the ball has not yet dropped)

The business had upset him, that I knew, but I also knew that there was something about the operatic sweep of the search which could not fail to appeal to him and that he was pleased, however obscurely, with the aesthetics of the thing.

Henry saw it, too. "Like something from Tolstoy, isn't it?" he remarked.

Julian looked over his shoulder, and I was startled to see that there was real delight on his face.

"Yes," he said. "Isn't it, though?"

(pg 414— richard's burnt coffee but henry......)

They hadn't been twenty feet from where I said, were even drinking the same muddy coffee from the same pot I'd made in the teachers' lounge. "That's odd," said Henry. "The first thing I thought of when I tasted that coffee was you."

"What do you mean?"

"It tasted strange. Burnt. Like your coffee."

(pg 419— bunny's kleptomania vice)

(pg 424— more suspicious charles and camilla)

(pg 437— the reporters genuinely being afraid of henry)

(pg 441— camilla crying and sciola and davenport being like: this is all your fault.)

(pg 445— the increasingly chaotic hysteria of the aftermath of bunny's death and everyone's weird ideas of faux mourning and real mourning)

(pg 446— richard comparing hampden's grieving to small children acting)

(pg 448— bunny being an impression to so many people, and having "touched people's lives" as he fulfilled a specific role and this is such a Striking scene to me because bunny sucked but richard was willing to be so distraught even amid all that irked him)

(pg 450— the description of tracy and richard's fondness for detached people after bunny's death)

(pg 458— mr corcoran's outbursts of grief and then Sudden recoveries left me Reeling but they rocked storytelling-wise)

(pg 473— henry and mr corcoran's plane story chaos)

He rambled on with this fraudulent recollection while Henry, pale and ill, endured his prods and backslaps as a well-trained dog will tolerate the pummeling of a rough child.

(pg 475— cloke and richard teaming up to steal henry meds)

(pg 481— just..... henry freaky but aesthetically so)

For a moment his face, pale and watchful as a ghost's, would be caught in the headlights and then, very gradually, it would slide back into the dark.

(pg 484— richard having been high in primary school: aka the equivalent of john mulaney's "now we don't have time to unpack all of that")

(pg 486— "one time uncle bunny called me a bastard" and the very high boys having to talk to mrs corcoran)

(pg 489— oh my WORD the fkn funeral scene where francis is waving at the wasp, camilla is taking off her shoe then charles KILLS it, so loudly)

(pg 495— Bun, I thought, oh, Bun, I'm sorry. *weeps*)

(pg 509— henry gardening)

(pg 514— the frantic hypochondria of francis slowly starting to suggest.... you guessed it! anxiety!!)

(pg 520— the broken mirror had me SHAKE)

(pg 541— the puzzle pieces clicking into place for charles and camilla. the internalised biphobia of charles and poor, poor francis. i wish he and richard could have ended up together but then i don't think any of them would have felt any good at all after)

(pg 558— the kosher strawberry drink that richard offers charles who, just minutes prior, was asleep in a SNAIL)

(pg 559— the fact that charles saw bunny fkn Sitting on the edge of the bed. right there.)

(pg 566— this line julian says after they talk about bunny's death)

"It does not do to be frightened of things about which you know nothing," he said. "You are like children. Afraid of the dark."

(pg 569— them all being worried that something Happened to camilla when she left with henry.....)

(pg 577— richard piecing things together and wondering; did henry make him do all of this? 'the alarm bell, richard')

(pg 582— the way tartt describes henry and camilla specifically as pluto and persephone,,,,, goodness me)

(pg 583— you know exactly the line. also richard's surprise at saying it so Obviously)

"Nothing," he said. "Except that my life, for the most part, has been very stale and colourless. Dead, I mean. The world has always been an empty place to me. I was incapable of enjoying even the simplest things. I felt dead in everything I did." He brushed the dirt from his hands. "But then it changed," he said. "The night I killed that man."

(pg 590— the fact that they suddenly realise the letter julian received WAS bunny's)

(pg 602— henry trying and failing to explain to a Subtly horrified julian. a wrecking scene)

(pg 603— "It is always hard for me to talk about Julian without romanticising him." what a book. what an author.)

(pg 605— this line about beauty and art and how convoluted, i just... here)

"There is nothing wrong with the love of Beauty. But Beauty— unless she is wed to something more meaningful— is always superficial. It is not that your Julian chooses solely to concentrate on certain, exalted things, it is that he chooses to ignore others equally as important."

(pg 611— CHARLES being the shocking intrusion to reveal julian really is gone)

(pg 614— henry's accusing julian of being cowardly, of only wanting to keep his name out of it, and that he loved him more than his own father. broke my heart in a super super weird way)

(pg 616— henry not liking charles' use of the word 'fuck' is such a.... feeling..... and continuing onto page 617 where richard has in-depth made it akin to his own parents and realised: no one is in control here. no one is flying this plane.)

(pg 622— charles' insistent worry of henry wanting to kill him)

(pg 623— charles' cat being a 'mummified, hissing bundle' made me laugh, grateful for it amid all of this weight)

(pg 633— richard realising no one is looking at him while he's shot Gets me)

(pg 635— camilla being kissed between the eyes. and henry. henry henry henry.)

(pg 641— richard being able to get out of his exams with his 'excellent excuse' and his 'ride to the underworld lit by shell and burger king')

(pg 645— sophie dearbold being 'frightened' by richard's early morning looks,,,,, i do wonder.)

(pg 649— priscilla. that's it.)

(pg 653— this line and also the notion they're all wondering if henry faked his death even though he couldn't possibly have)

"Well, you know what Julian would say," said Francis. "There are such things as ghosts. People everywhere have always known that. And we believe in them every bit as much as Homer did. Only now, we call them by different names. Memory. The unconscious."

"Do you mind if we change the subject?" Camilla said, quite suddenly. "Please?"

(pg 654 & pg 655— richard wanting to move and marry camilla. but her still being very in love with henry)

(pg 657— the 'closing montage' of the epilogue; the revelation that marion and brady decided to nickname their daughter bunny.... got me)

(pg 660— henry. henry henry henry)

"Are you happy here?" I said at last.

He considered this for a moment. "Not particularly," he said. "But you're not very happy where you are, either."

St Basil's, in Moscow. Chartres. Salisbury and Amiens. He glanced at his watch.

He turned from me and walked away. I watched his back receding down the long, gleaming hall.

final note: this book ruined me. if you have the stomach for some of the heavier themes in this book, i highly suggest giving it a read. yes, donna tartt is impeccable, yes, her writing has improved, but it is nonetheless spectacular. bye bye now :]

(edit: i'm glad to see so many people are relating to my unhinged concern and love for this novel alfhahskf)

(edit as of 14/01/22: FINALLY BOUGHT MY OWN COPY. now to maths to figure out which page is which.)

#the secret history #the secret history donna tartt #donna tartt #donna tartt the secret history #blue rants #blue reads #bunny corcoran #camilla macaulay #charles and camilla macaulay #charles macaulay #richard papen #henry winter #francis abernathy

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ibis-gt · 3 years ago

Text

HA. FINISHED IT. 7256 words. here’s what boots is doing in alien au. warning that the first bit is kinda heavy but he gets better i prommy. henjoyyyy

~~~~

In the deep, dark void of space, a tiny craft floated aimlessly along. Ninety percent of its electronic functions had been switched off to conserve power. All it was doing now was generating enough warmth and oxygen to keep its single occupant alive. He sat in the pitch black hull of what would undoubtedly become his coffin and thought to himself.

Had it been twenty four hours yet? He’d gotten pretty good at guessing this lately, often within minutes of the exact time. It was his only fun these days, now that he had to keep the ship’s AI powered off for most of the day. His hand crept across the console. He knew every button and switch on the thing by heart now, didn’t even need his sight to find the one panel he needed. His finger hovered over it for a second. He counted to five, then closed his eyes and hit it.

His vision behind his eyelids flared red as the lights came on, the perfect silence of the ship disturbed by the electronic humming of power flowing to the console. He cracked one eye open and read the display in front of him.

08:05:03.

Boots sighed. He’d gotten 08:02:42 yesterday, his best time yet. Soon, he was sure, he’d hit right on 08:00:00. He just needed more practice.

“Day 68 since the attack,” Boots said into the microphone in front of him. “I’ve taken to leaving the craft drifting, only using the propulsion features when I need to shift around space debris. Nothing out here could do me too much damage, anyway. I’m thinking about lowering the temperature of the craft a couple degrees. Of course the only way I’d really save energy is by dropping from 70 to 40 at minimum, but I want to ease myself into it at first. Rations are holding up okay. Got a little surprise for myself tomorrow, can’t wait to see how I’ll react. If I make it.” He scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I’ve started putting out the SOS signal every five hours instead of every three. Someone’s got to come around eventually. Probably. Hopefully.” Boots paused and stared at the wall. “I mean, I’m only in the third most dangerous patch of space in the galaxy. Surely there’s tons of, oh, I dunno, wealthy merchant vessels with zero qualms about picking up random drifters down on their luck. Just gotta hold out a little longer, one’s due any day now. Any day now. Any day now. Any…” He trailed off. “Anyway. Townsend out.”

He hit the button to end the recording and watched the little file zip off into the ship’s databank. Someone’s going to have a great time listening to me slowly go insane in here when they finally find this piece of shit lifepod, Boots thought. I mean, they’re going to start a drinking game and everything. Take a shot every time I repeat myself. Take a shot every time I cut another quality of life feature to prolong my existence a little longer. Take a shot every time I fantasize about rescue. Die of alcohol poisoning by day fifty…

He smacked his face lightly with both hands, trying to break himself out of the spiral. No death talk. Can’t start down that road. Gotta keep active, gotta keep positive. Time to send out the SOS again, and then power down the ship for a bit. He pulled the radio towards himself and fiddled with the dials til he got the frequency right. He ought to just keep it set to the right channel all day, but scrambling it and resetting it when it was time to broadcast again was something else to do.

“SOS. SOS. SOS.,” he repeated in monotone. “Lifepod drifting in quadrant Zed Alpha 23, last known coordinates 235532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942, relative to the system’s third star. Attack by space pirates left one known survivor. Requesting immediate pickup. Message repeats. SOS. SOS. SOS…” He repeated this a few times and switched the radio back off. He’d given up on waiting for a response a couple weeks back. Boots powered down the console and sat back in his chair.

Now the waiting game. Something tickled at the back of his mind. Had he said the numbers right in the SOS? 235532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942, right? Or was it 235632.4234, 399325.3234, 100534.3942? Or 335532.4234, 399324.3234, 100434.3942. Or were all of them wrong. Or did he not know where the hell he was. When did he last do his readings? They were stored on the computer right in front of him. He could power it back on and look.

Boots bit his lip. He could power it back on and open up the chess feature. He could power it back on and open the drawing program. There were lots of ways to keep him busy and all of them would drain what little power he had so, so quickly, and leave him to die in the vacuum of space. No death talk. Think about something else.

He got out of his chair and paced the length of the ship. It was thirty steps exactly from the console at one end to the airlock at the other. Ten steps from either side of the short end. Windows lined each long end, letting him glance out at the vastness of the abyss around him. He didn’t like to stare out for too long. He’d spent the first couple days trying to count all the stars out there, but it did something strange to his head, and he’d lose all sense of time, all sense of space, all sense of himself. Movement was good, it kept him from getting lost in his own head. He didn’t exercise too strenuously, but it was probably a good time to start his basic stretches now, keep him limbered up.

He sat down and extended one leg out, tucked the other in, and reached for his toes. Hold for a count of thirty, then switch legs. Hold for a count of thirty. Switch so that one leg was tucked under his body, the other extended behind him. Hold for a count of thirty. Switch legs. On and on, he cycled through pose after pose, held, and switched. It hit him that he was probably going to be in better shape physically after this than he’d been in a while, just because now he had a regular routine. He couldn’t help it. A fit of giggles overtook him, and he lost the pose he was holding, collapsing in a twitching heap on the floor as he laughed. Oh god. He’d really lost it, hadn’t he.

It was a few hours later by his best guess, and about time to send out the next SOS. Boots’s hand hovered over the panel, he counted to five, and he turned on the ship’s console. 1:15:53. Not bad. Just as he reached for the radio, the ship’s AI spoke for the first time in days.

“Alert! Incoming vessel! Titan-class, threat level maximal. Evasive maneuvers highly recommended.”

Boots gaped at the screen in front of him, displaying a pixelated version of his surroundings. In the middle lay a tiny green dot that represented his craft. The entire left side of the display was taken up by a massive blue shape, closing in on his location with a slow, deliberate pace. It was so much to process all at once that all he could do was stare while his mind tried to catch up.

Why hadn’t the AI alerted him before - it was turned off. Of course. Proximity sensors had been designated obsolete on day twelve. This vessel must have heard his SOS. A good thing? Or a bad thing? Titan-class vessels were nearly all designed for combat. More importantly, they were designed specifically for giants. Space-faring species were given class designations based on size, and Titan-class vessels could hold anywhere from class five to class twelve species - beings that stood between twenty to a hundred feet tall. Boots remembered the basic size sheet plastered in practically every ship’s manual and shuddered, remembering how miniscule humans looked at class two compared to the rest. The ship in front of him was no doubt teeming with sixty foot tall behemoths armed to the gills. So much for the kind-hearted merchants he’d dreamed of. They were scavengers, probably, vultures here to pick his carcass clean. Boots let out a little involuntary laugh. Good luck, boys, there’s nothing here of any value. Except -

His eyes darted to the cabinet that held tomorrow’s surprise. Well. He wasn’t going to make it to tomorrow to have it then, was he? Might as well have it now. Boots stumbled over, shock making his legs go wobbly and weak. He yanked the cabinet open and pulled out the little flask that held his secret stash of whiskey, kept safe all those years since he’d pulled it out of the wreckage of some party yacht.

Boots wandered over to stand in front of the windows, gazing out at the approaching vessel. It was so huge he couldn’t see all of it at once, could only make out a row of lights and the edge of some massive energy cannon. It was drifting inexorably closer. They’d be upon him in minutes.

“To 69,” Boots said, holding the flask aloft. “And 420. And all the other funny numbers.” With that, he tossed back the ounce of amber liquid, savoring the burn as it cascaded down his throat and settled in his gut.

A numbness hit him as he took in his fate. It was inevitable, wasn’t it? If he was lucky, they’d power up that cannon and blast him into space dust. If he was unlucky, they’d take him aboard to have some fun with him. His mind’s eye filled the vessel with dozens of huge, mean space pirates, all eager to get their hands on the piddling little human and pull him apart like taffy. No death talk. Look on the bright side. At least something was finally happening.

He flinched as a bright green beam shot out from the vessel, engulfing his lifepod entirely. Since he also wasn’t incinerated instantly, he assumed it was some kind of tractor beam rather than a laser cannon. His assumption was proved right when the front of the vessel yawned open like the titanic maw of some great whale and his tiny lifepod was pulled into it.

The pod settled on the floor of the vessel’s loading bay, and Boots pushed his nose up to the glass to get a look at his new surroundings. Huge metal crates lashed with thick ropes sat on all sides. He squinted at a marking stamped on the side of the nearest crate and the pit of his stomach dropped. Those were Service symbols. He’d been caught by the stars-damned space police.

Boots chewed his lip and tried to think. Had he been involved in anything big lately? There was that fuel heist the other month, but surely everyone had forgotten about that by now. Anyway, he’d only helped with intel, there was no way they knew he even had irons in that fire. Unless someone ratted him out? No, the crew was too tight-knit for that. But who knew what had happened while he’d been lost out here? He was so out of the loop, they could have found all kinds of info. Wait, there was no way they even knew it was him. He didn’t put his name or any identifying information in the SOS, and even if they had some voice recognition software, his had grown weird and cracked from disuse, and the radio was shit. It had to be too distorted for anyone to recognize. No way they knew it was him. No way.

Boots was shaken from his reverie, literally, as the whole ship rattled, a massive THOOM echoing through the loading bay. It was followed by another, and another, growing steadily closer. He shoved his face to the glass again and saw a gigantic pair of boots thudding towards where his piddling little lifepod sat. He scrambled for something, anything, he could use as a weapon, but of course it was fruitless. He hadn’t had time to grab a blaster in the mad dash for the lifepod back on the ship so many weeks ago, and even if he had the behemoth coming towards him was too huge for it to have any effect. Could he try to hide? Play dead? It would be absurd, of course, they’d clearly heard his cry for help. But if he just didn’t come out, what would they even do?

His train of thought was abruptly derailed as the footsteps stopped and the being called out to him. The voice was so loud and so deep it vibrated through Boots’ chest. “Hey, you okay in there?”

Boots was frozen, staring out the window at the toe of a boot the size of a small spacecraft. The giant waited, probably expecting him to hop on the radio and broadcast a response, or step out and talk to him. His mind raced, trying to find a way out of the situation.

“Hello? We got your distress call, are you still in there? Are you hurt?”

Boots’ eyes darted from side to side. Think. Think think think. Why was his mind a total blank? All the times in the past he’d come up with some genius plot to get him out of certain doom, and now it was like a bowl of mush up there. That’s probably what nearly seventy days of total isolation does to you, but still! The boot creaked and the light was blotted out as the being crouched down to inspect the lifepod more closely.

“Huh,” the voice continued, now sounding almost like the giant was talking to themself. “That looks like a Harlequin-class lifepod. Couple modifications to it, too. Those fins aren’t standard… And that radio array… Hm.”

Shit! Shit! Shit! All those definitely illegal mods were not going to leave a good impression. He needed to do something to distract them, and fast.

“I’m going to pick up your lifepod now,” the voice boomed, back at full volume. “I’ll be as careful as I can, but please hold on to something to secure yourself.”

Finally, Boots’ body kicked into gear. He flattened himself against the wall next to the window, hopefully hidden from view from the giant. A quiet thud reverberated through the lifepod as the giant’s hand wrapped around the hull. Boots could see the tips of their fingers through the other set of windows, and the sheer size of the huge blue digits made him shiver. If the giant wanted to, they could crush his pod like an empty beer can. His stomach churned with the thought and with the motion as he was lifted up into the air. He could just imagine the giant’s eye on the other side of the glass right next to him, scanning through the little vessel. What would they see? An open cabinet, empty food containers strewn across the floor, but otherwise no signs of life. And then what would they do?

Boots got his answer as the giant turned the lifepod around in their hands and looked in the other side. He was caught like a deer in the headlights, clearly visible through the windows opposite him. Ah. Well. So much for that.

The giant appeared to be a deep blue-green all over. All Boots could see was part of his face and his eye, which was a completely blank milky green color, no iris or pupil visible. It still seemed able to see him, the muscles around it contracting slightly as it widened in surprise upon spotting him. The lid settled back down and the giant spoke again.

“Please exit your craft and submit for questioning.” Most of the concerned, caring tone was gone. This was a brusque, official order. Boots swallowed hard, but his fear was evaporating in the face of a sudden wave of anger. He hadn’t survived all on his own for two months just to turn himself in quietly. He pushed himself away from the wall, fury making him bold.

“Like hell I will!” Boots screeched. “You’ll never take me alive, you bastards!” He held out his middle finger and waved it at the giant. Then he tried a couple other rude hand gestures for good measure, in case it didn’t understand the first one. The eye narrowed. Ah good, it had gotten the message.

The floor under Boots’ feet tilted as the giant turned the ship on its side, and he first slid, then tumbled head over heels down towards the console, smacking into it hard enough to daze him for a moment. He watched, sprawled out on his back, as the other end of the ship was crushed between the giant’s fingers and ripped away, leaving a sparking hole in the hull. He felt the ship begin to shift again and he scrabbled for a hold on the console as it tipped the other way. He’d barely managed to get his arms around a monitor before he was dangling in the air over the hole in the ship. He could just make out some huge blue-green surface waiting just below the opening, and had enough brain power not dedicated solely to fear to be utterly incensed that the man was trying to dump him out like the last tic tac.

As if to compound this mental image, the ship began to shake gently up and down, then more insistently, and finally Boots lost his hold on the monitor and went plummeting down to the surface below. He expected to smack into a hard surface and break something, but found himself bouncing on something soft and leathery. Boots pushed himself up on his elbows and glanced blearily around. Ah. Of course. It was a hand. Presumably the same hand that had torn his ship apart like wet tissue paper. And here he was, completely at its mercy, a little drunk on fear and alcohol. Well, he wasn’t about to go out without a fight. He got unsteadily to his feet and whirled around to face the being, and his screams of defiant rage died in his throat.

Huge blank eyes half as tall as he was glared down at him out of a face the size of a house. It bore an expression of disgusted bemusement, like Boots was something small and pitiful and half-dead that a pet had dragged in. A pair of goatlike green horns sprouted from the man’s head and swept back in an arc. His thick beard and hair were a deep, rich blue that almost hurt to look at after being stuck in such low light for so long. A jagged scar cut through his left eye, extending from just above the brow to down below the cheek. A silver symbol on chest clearly marked him as the captain of this vessel.

The captain tucked the remnants of Boots’ lifepod in the chest pocket of his uniform. Then he extended a finger and pinned Boots to his palm as he brought him in closer for inspection.

With just the tip of his finger he’d rendered Boots completely immobile. No amount of squirming could get him free, so he was helpless as the man took in his rumpled clothes, his pale, wan face, his tangled mop of hair. The captain’s nose scrunched and he pulled back a little. Oh, yeah. He hadn’t had a shower in a few weeks. He’d grown used to stewing in his own juices while trapped in that little ship, his own sense of smell shutting down to protect himself forever ago.

“No insignia or mark of rank,” the captain murmured, and even speaking quietly his voice vibrated through Boots’ chest. “Buuuut…” The finger lifted and prodded him in the side, flipping him over onto his back. “A-ha. Thought so.”

Oh, shit, Boots thought. The jacket. The decal on the back. The one that loudly proclaimed him as a member of the galaxy’s most notorious junker gang.

“That’s, uh, not mine,” Boots lied. “Found it in the lifepod.”

“Uh-huh,” the captain rumbled. “Sure. Is your name Townsend, by chance?”

Shit. That was also on the decal. “Y - no. Not at all. It’s, uh… Frank.” He got nothing but scathing silence in return. Boots rolled over, shoving the man’s finger aside. “You can’t prove anything. I plead the 17th.”

“Look, Frank,” The captain began. Boots couldn’t be sure, but he thought he rolled his eyes when he said it. “I’m not here to arrest you or whatever. You’re protected under Distress Law, even if you had a warrant on you I couldn’t do it. But I’ve got my eye on you, junker. Anything on this ship goes missing, I’ll know who did it.”

“Oh, sure, pick on the guy who’s been lost in the void of space for three months,” Boots spat. “One hell of a rescue.”

“We’ll get you cleaned up and fed, set you down on the first space station we come across,” the captain said, ignoring him. “We’ve got a human on board, you can borrow some of his clothes, probably. You look about the same size.”

“How the hell would you know,” Boots grumbled, but under his breath. His senses were starting to come back to him. Even if he were protected under whatever law, pissing off a guy the size of a skyscraper wasn’t a smart move. But Boots had been making smart moves for three months now and he was exhausted. As the captain turned to lumber out of the airlock and towards the rest of the ship, it hit him. He’d done it. He’d survived. He’d been rescued.

Relief, grief, and euphoria in equal measure spread through his body like a wave. An uncontrollable giggle burst out of him, just a short, hyena-like bark at first. He slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it, but more came, wracking his body, and soon he was laughing and sobbing all at once, convulsing uncontrollably as the captain stared down at him in concern.

“Are you… good?”

“I’m great,” Boots sighed, and fully passed out.

He came to slowly, in a haze, lying facedown on some hard metallic surface. High above him, the voice of the captain rang out as he argued with someone.

“... a little thief, some junker, I don’t want him roaming around the ship on his own. I’m not saying we throw him in the brig but he needs an escort or something.”

A pause as they responded, but whoever it was, their voice was too quiet to hear.

“No offense, Algers, but you’re not exactly… have you ever been in combat? Had any practice with that stun gun you’re carrying? Hand to hand combat, de-escalation training, anything like that? …Yeah. I don’t want you following the hardened criminal around. You’re more likely to be a hostage than a captor. Ow! Hey! I am the captain of this ship, you know.”

That last bit sounded nearly coy and playful. Boots shook his head and tried to sit up. A bone-deep exhaustion permeated his whole body. It took every ounce of willpower he had to slide an arm under him and lever himself up on his elbow. He managed to glance muzzily around and took in the scene. He was laying on the console of the captain’s chair in the main command center. The chair was set up on a dias overlooking a swath of computers and monitors lining the wall against the front window of the vessel, showing the stars as they raced past at just under light speed. The captain himself was standing some distance away, talking to seemingly nobody. There were only a few other crew members in the room, mostly manning navigational consoles. They were all huge, but none were quite the size of the captain. No one was looking at Boots.

Ha. An escort would’ve been a great idea, Boots thought, because I’m getting the hell out of here right now. He got one leg under him and pushed himself up to his knees. His head swam with the motion and he nearly toppled over backwards. He felt horribly lightheaded and top heavy at the same time, like his head was stuffed with cotton balls but his neck wasn’t strong enough to support his skull. It gave him a queasy floating feeling, like he was being tossed around on ocean waves. Boots swallowed hard to quell the nausea and got to his feet, legs shaking ever so slightly. After the dark, cramped confines of his lifepod, the huge open space and bright lights of the cockpit made his senses scream with overstimulation. But like hell was he going to stick around and wait to see which giant monster would be his babysitter. He’d commandeer another lifepod - this one at least would be more spacious than the last - and get himself back to headquarters to report the loss of the vessel.

Movement to his left caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see two massive paws place themselves on the console. Boots stared into a huge pair of curious canine eyes, with several smaller sets of eyes around them. A big wet nose snuffled in his direction. A giant mouth opened and panted happily, letting a huge tongue loll out and splat onto the console. Then it lunged for him. Boots didn’t even have time to scream.

By the time he’d realized what had happened, he was being carried by the back of his jacket through the corridors of the ship, dangling some fifteen feet off the ground. The dog-like alien that had nabbed him was joined by two others that tried to duck their heads under his captor’s chin to sniff and nip at Boots. He kicked at them as they got near, but only succeeded in making himself twist and spin, once nearly falling out of his jacket altogether. From then on he opted to hang on for dear life.

At last he was lowered to the ground and let go, but before he could move, those noses were on him again, sniffing and snuffling, mussing up his hair, his clothes, nearly knocking his glasses off. He curled into a ball and tried to play dead, but one of them nudged him over onto his back and licked him. Immediately he was drenched in slobber, and knew he had to act before this went any farther.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay! Down! Back! Get away! Bad dog!” Boots scrambled to his feet and held his hands out, backing away from the three giant alien dogs staring down at him. They whined and tilted their heads, one holding up a front paw like it was going to take a hesitant step towards him. He pointed at that one and said “No!” as firmly as he could. The paw lowered slowly.

“Right. Okay.” Boots wiped as much of the slobber off his face as he could and shook his head, trying to get the stuff out of his hair. “No more of that. Ugh, it’s everywhere…” He shook his arms and swiped at his clothing, knocking more of it away.

The dog aliens whined softly and made sad eyes at him. Now that he wasn’t in danger of being licked to death, Boots got a better look at the pack. They were huge, each about twenty feet tall at the shoulder, with vaguely canine forms. They had six legs and long, thin tails that curled and flicked behind them. The one on the right was solid green, the one in the middle was a greyish blue, and the one on the left was green with lighter splotches. Rightie had folded ears, while Leftie’s were bolt upright, and Middle had one up, one down. They all had weird gadgets and gizmos strapped to them, too. Rightie had a set of goggles over their main set of eyes and a pair of saddlebags on either side. Middle had a single eye scanner and a pack that looked to be full of pipes and wires. Leftie had no goggles and a toolbox slung on their right. All three bore collars with the Service insignia and a speaker on the front. Just as Boots started to wonder what it was all for, Leftie spoke.

“Human?” The voice crackled out of the speaker on their collar. “New human? We have a new human?”

“Smells funny,” Middle chimed in. “Lots of smell. Smells a lot.”

“For us do you think? Captain’s smell on him. New friend? New family?” Rightie’s tail started to wag, and the other two perked up, Middle dancing in place.

“New family! New family!” The three of them repeated over each other, riling each other up. Boots tried to back up again, but before he could get far, Leftie lunged forward again, this time bowling him over and smushing him between their face and the floor. The other two joined in, trying to push each other out of the way to scent mark him.

“Okay! New family! That’s enough!” Boots yelled, managing to get a hand on the nearest snout. He pushed with all his strength, but it wasn’t until the alien gave in and pulled back that he was able to get upright again. “A little breathing room, please.”

The dogs obliged, laying their faces down mere feet away from him. He could see their whip-like tails wagging away and could only imagine the damage those things could cause. Huh… there was a thought.

“I’m… part of the pack now, huh?” Boots eyed them carefully. They seemed to be doing what he said. Maybe they’d recognized his natural leadership abilities and designated him the Alpha of the group. It made perfect sense. He grinned. “Okay then, listen up. Here’s what we’re going to do…”

Boots wasn’t much of a tactician, but he figured he didn’t need to be if he had three giant alien dogs at his command. He’d mounted up on Middle, whose name he learned was Y, and had X - Leftie - and Z - Rightie - follow on either side. His plan was simple: rush the command center, take out the captain, and take control of the ship. All they’d need was one well-aimed bite to the jugular and it was all over. These things had viciously sharp teeth, he’d learned. Once he’d proven he could best the biggest guy on the ship, everyone else would fall in line. That’s how it always worked in junker circles, anyway.

They reached the door to the command center. Boots gave the signal to wait, calling out a quiet “whooaa, there,” and pulling on Y’s collar. The three obediently ground to halt, X and Z looking up expectantly at him.

“Okay, remember the plan,” Boots said. “On my signal, Z, you trip the door, and Y, you make straight for the captain. We do this quick and clean.”

“Yes! Yes! Surprise Captain!” Y’s collar said, and they yipped happily.

“Shh!” Boots hissed. “Stealth mission, remember? X, you be ready to take out anyone near the door who might try to stop us. We only get one shot. Ready?”

The dogs gave him a huff and a nod. Boots took a deep breath to steady himself, raised an arm, and swept in down in an arc.

“Go!”

Z hopped up on their hind legs and hit the open door button with a paw. X burst through the door first, surprising a tall, gangly orange creature who’d been loitering next to it. Boots grinned as he heard them yelp in surprise, falling over backwards under a ton of excited dog alien.

“Now, Y! ATTAAAAAAACK!”

Captain Mersharc whipped around, staring in open-mouthed shock at his incoming doom. Boots smiled grimly, ready for the bloodshed to come.

Y trotted up to Captain Mersharc, tail a-wagging, with precisely none of the expediency or viciousness Boots had demanded. Mersharc glared at the human who was kicking his heels furiously into Y’s side and yelling. He knelt down and plucked Boots up by the back of his jacket, holding him up in the air while he gave Y some quick chin scritches, finishing with a ruffle of the ears and a pat on the head. Then he stood and regarded the struggling human with tired exasperation.

“Did you get it out of your system yet?” Captain Mersharc asked. “I can let you kick the air a while longer if you want.”

Boots quit kicking and glared right back at Mersharc. He folded his arms, trying very hard not to look like a pouting child and failing miserably.

“Anyway, before you made your little daring escape, I was going to have Luther here be your escort around the ship.”

Boots glanced around for whatever horrifying giant monster was called Luther, but was surprised to see the Captain gesture at a figure perched on his shoulder. A human man sat there, legs hooked into a pair of fabric loops to keep him secured. He waved at Boots and shrugged.

“Took him forever to wear me down on that, too, so great job letting all that effort go to waste,” Captain Mersharc continued. “Instead, I think I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

Boots opened his mouth to protest, but couldn’t get a word out before he was unceremoniously dumped in the same chest pocket that had once held his lifepod, although that was now thankfully absent. He tumbled down the side of the fabric chute, landing with a soft ‘oof’ at the bottom. The pocket was dark, with only a sliver of light filtering from the opening up top, and it practically pulsed with the huge, slow THUMP-THUMP, THUMP-THUMP of the captain’s heart beat. Just as Boots struggled to his feet, a firm pressure slammed him against the brick wall that was the Captain’s chest. It let up, then squeezed him once more, hard enough to force the air out of his lungs. He slid to the bottom again, dazed, and realized Captain Mersharc must have patted his pocket to secure him. Suddenly Boots felt far less inclined to act out. The Captain had been remarkably gentle with him, all things considered, and he didn’t want to find out what it was like when he was being rough.

“Careful,” he heard a small voice say. It must have been Luther up on the captain’s shoulder. “Humans are delicate, remember?”

“He’ll be fine,” Mersharc grumbled. His voice had vibrated through Boots’ chest before, but now that he was pressed up against the man’s chest it practically rattled his teeth in his skull. “He’s probably survived worse.”

“He can hear you!” Boots shouted. Mersharc chuckled, and Boots’ whole body shook again.

“See? He’s fine.”

“Hmm. Can I talk to him?” Luther’s voice sounded closer now, like he’d moved along the captain’s shoulder.

“C’mon in!” Boots called.

“All right, but.. Be careful, eh?” Mersharc murmured. If he was trying to keep Boots from overhearing, it was pointless.

Boots saw the tips of Mersharc’s fingers dip into the pocket, forming a little ramp that Luther clambered down. Boots patted the fabric next to him, inviting Luther to take a seat, and studied the man carefully. Short, curly brown hair, big sweet hazel eyes, a smattering of freckles, and a big round nose. Just as he’d suspected. The man was unbearably cute. Boots resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Luther didn’t seem to notice his disdain, fishing in his pocket for something.

“The captain asked me to look through the lifepod and bring you any personal effects but there kind of… weren’t any. Except this?” Luther held out the flask that’d held Boots’ whiskey. It had his full name and an illustration of a pair of boots hanging from a wire engraved on one side. Boots took it reverentially and tucked it in his jacket pocket.

“Thanks. Thought I’d lost that when the big guy ripped my ship apart. Got some sentimental value.”

“I found it wedged behind the console,” Luther offered. “Hunear did a sweep of the floor in the airlock just in case, too. Sorry the captain, uh… got a bit rough with your ship. He can have a kind of short temper at times.”

“Hmph. Especially if he’s already decided what kind of person you are,” Boots grumbled, folding his arms. He hunched up and looked away, biting his lip to try and smother the little pang of grief that shot through him at the thought of his ship. It was probably beyond repair at this point, which meant its AI wasn’t recoverable. It’d helped keep him sane for half his voyage, running chess games, popping up fun science facts, even holding brief conversations. It wasn’t advanced enough to have a whole personality, but it was all he had until day thirty, when he’d had to shut it off to conserve power. As soon as he got another drink he’d pour a little out for it.

“Well, from what I heard, you flipped him the bird, the qaronk, the wheel, and the flitz,” Luther counted on his fingers, “plus a few others he didn’t know, and said he’d ‘never take you alive, copper’?”

“Uh… close enough” Boots muttered. “It wasn’t my best moment, sure. But that’s no reason for him to treat me like a criminal.”

Luther’s eyes darted to Boots’ jacket, and he gave Boots a Look. “Uh huh.”

“Look, it’s not like that!” Boots protested, spreading his hands out in front of him. “Okay, okay, I’m involved in some shady stuff, but I don’t do the actual stealing, I’m just the fence!”

“You’re knowingly transporting stolen goods, and you think that makes you better than the people you work with?”

Boots scoffed and shook his head. “It’s a rough galaxy out there, kid. We don’t all get to choose to keep our hands clean. I don’t kill anybody, and I don’t steal from people who can’t afford it. That’s as good as it gets.”

The comment seemed to strike a chord with Luther. He looked away and fidgeted with his wrist communicator, avoiding Boots’ eyes. “Well… maybe this is how you get out of it. I’ll put in a good word with the captain, maybe we can take you with us. I’m sure you’ve got some skills we could use - tenacity and survival, if nothing else…”

“Ha! Like hell. I’m sure if it weren’t for whatever law he’d’ve thrown me out the airlock by now.”

“You’ve got him all wrong. He’s just very protective of his crew. Any perceived threats make his hackles rise. And people on this ship get very… attached very quickly. You get someone on board to like you, he’ll warm up soon enough.”

“I got the dogs, didn’t I?”

Luther winced. “Yippers. They’re called Yippers. And you immediately tried to use them to mutiny, so I don’t think that put you in his good books. You’re going to need someone else to vouch for you.”

“Someone like you?” Boots raised an eyebrow.

“Well. Yes.” Luther brushed his hair out of his eyes, looking sheepish. “The captain and I do have a certain… understanding.”

“Huh.” Boots looked critically at Luther for a minute. “You two dating or something?”

Luther went red as a beet. “N-no! I mean! We’re just! We’re very good friends. It’s not like - I mean, he’s my superior officer, and all, it wouldn’t be appropriate, and anyway it’s none of your business!”

“So you are dating.”

Luther was saved from stammering out another reply by a massive blue finger and thumb that snagged the back of his uniform and lifted him out.

“That’s enough of that,” Captain Mersharc rumbled. “Back to your post, Officer Algers.”

Boots blew a strand of hair out of his face and smirked, leaning back against the side of the pocket. Ah. So it was like that, was it. Mister big scary alien had a soft spot for the cute little human. He’d have to remember that in case he could leverage it somehow later. Boots and Luther looked fairly alike, at least in that they both had chin-length brown hair and fair skin. But Luther was all soft roundness where Boots was sharp angles, and maybe that had something to do with it. He’d just have to perfect his innocent eyes and hope for the best.

He scratched at the patchy beard that’d grown in during his isolation. Hey, there was a thought. Wasn’t he supposed to get a bath at some point? And the Yipper slobber didn’t count. He stood up and yanked at the fabric against the captain’s chest.

“I’m not letting you out so you can terrorize my communications officer some more,” Mersharc said without looking down.

“I want a bath!” Boots yelled. That got the captain’s attention. He glanced down, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh? Okay, we can probably facilitate that.” He started to reach into the pocket, but Boots smacked his finger as it drew near.

“I’m sick of getting hoisted around like a sack of potatoes! You dangle me in the air one more time, I swear I’m gonna barf on you.” Boots had been ready for an argument, but he wasn’t expecting the captain to burst out laughing.

“Alright, alright, fair enough,” he said. “Here.” He reached in and curled his index finger around Boots’ back, pressing his thumb against his middle to keep him secure. Then he lifted Boots out and set him in his other palm. “How’s that?”

Boots blinked in the sudden light. He craned his neck to either side, taking in his surroundings, and noted that Luther was back on Mersharc’s shoulder. Presumably his post, then.

“Yeah, this’ll work. So about that bath? And I need to shave.”

Mersharc hmm’d for a second, rubbing his top lip with a finger. “Spose you could use the sink in my quarters for the bath. Algers, you got your multitool?”

Luther pulled a small silver rod from his belt and pushed himself forwards, sliding off the captain’s shoulder. Without missing a beat, the captain moved his hand over so that Luther landed neatly on his palm next to Boots.

“Here. It’s got a shave function.” Luther held the tool out to Boots.

For a half second, a possible future flitted through Boots’ mind. He could reach for the tool, but feint and pull Luther into a hold that would only take the slightest of twitches to snap his neck. He’d be in the palm of the captain’s hand, but he’d have all the power. Mersharc wouldn’t dare make a move for fear of losing his precious human. He could hold the whole ship hostage, get them to go anywhere, take whatever he wanted, and ride home in style…

The moment passed. Boots took the tool from Luther with a nod of thanks. He glanced up and caught the look on Mersharc’s face. He’d expected Boots to make a move, and he was genuinely surprised he hadn’t. Boots gave him a wry smile and flipped his hair out of his face. “I clean up nice,” he said, winking at the captain. “You’ll see.”

Maybe he could make it work with this crew after all.

#writing #g/t #giant tiny #cam and luther #alien au #beauregard orlando townsend #cam mersharc #luther algers #WORK WITH ME ON THIS ONE i ran out of steam.#and expect a morning reblog it's Late #also patch notes: cam's like 100 ft tall now bc i decided i wanted him Bigger.

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recurring-polynya · 3 years ago

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Once again, I am thinking about the dubious claim that people make from time to time that Renji would have gotten better character development in the TYBW arc if Byakuya had died. The thing is, though, that Renji did get excellent character development in this arc, particularly with respect to his relationship to Byakuya, it was just very subtle and I want to talk about it.

So, the first thing I want to point out is that the captain-lieutenant relationships is one of the major themes of the TYBW. A lot of this is sort of weird and awkward, but this is perfect, actually, because captain-lieutenant relationships are, for the most part, weird and clunky and awkward. Take for example, the part that I always make fun of, where the captains are told not to go to bankai, and Hitsugaya, Komamura, Byakuya and Soi Fon immediately go to bankai-- but they all do this on the assumption that they are luring their opponent into a trap to see how this works, and that their lieutenant will somehow ??defeat them anyway?? (well, except Soi Fon who seems to think she can one-shot her Quincy). There’s Sasakibe’s funeral, where we find out that Yamamoto cared far more for him than we ever imagined. Kyouraku returns Nanao’s zanpakutou to her and stands behind her as she defeats an opponent he can't. Iba carries Komamura’s body off of the battlefield as he loses the last of his humanity. Isane struggles to keep her head above her grief because that’s the burden Unohana left her with. Rose avenging Kira. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto fighting and (sort of) dying together. The Zaraki-Yachiru thing. The Mayuri-Nemu thing. Momo and Shinji actually got to have a relatively normal one, which they each deserved, but at least they got to have normal one together. Anyway, that could be an entire essay, but as usual, I only want to talk about Renji and Byakuya.

Renji’s introduction as a character happens in stages. Initially, he sort of appears to be Byakuya’s sidekick-- he's here to do the dirty work during Rukia’s arrest, while Byakuya stands by and calls the shots, but even early on, it’s clear that Renji’s a little hung up on Byakuya. He’s trying to impress him, and gets more embarrassed and self-conscious as things go progressively pear-shaped. When Byakuya finally enters the action, Renji’s thought bubbles reveal that he’s watched Byakuya for a long time, that he knows all his moves. When we get the Renji backstory reveal a few issues later, we learn that Renji’s goal is to defeat Byakuya, which he seems to feel is necessary to seeing Rukia again, even though there has never been any sort of causal link revealed between these two things. Don’t get me wrong, if Young Academy Renji had tried to continue to be friends with Rukia, I think Byakuya would have kicked him out on his ass, but it’s clear that a lot of Renji’s hang-ups are internal-- he doesn’t want to face Rukia again until he can stand against Byakuya. I think the origin of this is that he simply wants what’s best for Rukia, and he can’t stomach the idea of asking her to leave her rich, noble family for him, unless, of course, he’s somehow better than Byakuya in some dimension, and the only thing Renji’s ever considered himself good at is fighting.

Even more interesting is that he’s chosen to go about this by... studying the man’s every move and becoming his lieutenant. But for as much energy as Renji has put into learning Byakuya’s favorite combat moves, he doesn’t actually know anything about him as a person. He’s shocked when Rukia predicts that Byakuya won’t lift a finger to help her, and then horrified when this actually comes to pass. A few chapters later, as he’s running Hinamori through, Aizen comments that “Adoration is the state furthest from understanding.” I would probably classify Renji’s feelings towards Byakuya more as admiration or idolization, rather than adoration, but I think this statement is also very true of Renji and Byakuya’s relationship. Unlike poor Momo, Renji gets a little more time and opportunity to do something with this information. With a little Ichigo-forced soul searching, he realizes that he’s not going to come out the hero of this story no matter what, but if he doesn’t do something, Rukia’s not going to come out of this story at all, and even if he’s not really ready, he’s spent 40 years trying to figure out how to beat Kuchiki Byakuya, let’s hope all that was good for something.

The Byakuya-Renji fight has no direct impact on the events of the Soul Society Arc. It makes Byakuya show up to Rukia’s execution 5 minutes late and without his scarf. Renji gets healed, so it really doesn’t matter all that much to him, either. You could argue that they both wasted a bunch of energy (that they could have used to fight Aizen later) but it’s primarily a character-driven moment of them both drawing lines in the sand about where they stand, vis a vis Rukia. Byakuya wins this fight, and he wins it handily, but he’s wrong, as he comes to realize a few issues later, when Ichigo kicks his ass and tells him he’s a bad brother, a lesson that Byakuya will take to heart for the rest of the manga. Byakuya claims that the difference between Renji and himself is class, but the real difference between is the heart, and in the long run, Renji is the real victor of this fight.

The hospital scene is an interesting footnote to this. Byakuya defeated Renji, but Byakuya was the asshole and everyone knows it. There’s an expectation that perhaps Renji will quit or perhaps Renji will give him an earful and perhaps even Rukia will choose to leave the family, either to go to the Living World or to be with Renji (and Byakuya would deserve this), but instead, both Renji and Rukia give Byakuya another chance, which is not, I think, a place Renji ever expected to be.

Rukia and Byakuya building up a sibling relationship after this is fairly straightforward (although I’m sure it had its weird moments), but Byakuya and Renji now have this profoundly awkward relationship where Byakuya is obviously in charge, but he sort of depends on Renji as a personal compass because he’s shit at dealing with people and he doesn’t want to screw stuff up with Rukia again. Take for example, the part of the Hueco Mundo arc where Orihime is kidnapped and Rukia and Renji desert their posts to come help rescue her. Kubo takes to the panel-space to tell us that Byakuya has tacitly approved this. As a clan head and a captain, a person who is entrenched in the hierarchy of Soul Society, Byakuya couldn’t possibly go to Hueco Mundo-- but he can turn a blind eye while his sister and lieutenant scurry out through the Kuchiki family senkaimon. Renji, for his part, tried to go to Hueco Mundo through official channels and got shot down. We don’t know what Renji would have done if Byakuya had explicitly forbidden him from going, but it doesn’t matter-- Byakuya enabled Renji to follow his heart here, because Byakuya can’t. Rukia would have gone to Hueco Mundo regardless. She cares about Byakuya, but she doesn’t depend on him for validation the way Renji does.

I said this was going to be about the TYBW, so let’s get to that. Early in the arc, we’re shown several scenes where it’s clear that Byakuya respects and values Renji as a lieutenant, but he’s also pretty damn patronizing to him. Renji is the first one to engage As Nodt, and when Byakuya shows up, he acts surprised that Renji hasn’t taken him out yet, but then proceeds to take over the fight (real, “stand back, fives, an eleven has arrived” energy). After Byakuya then loses his bankai like a doofus, Renji wants to take point so that Byakuya can figure out As Nodt’s attack and Byakuya won’t let him... and then proceeds to get thrashed.

This has to be one of the most emotionally charged fights in Bleach. Byakuya is losing, and Renji jumps in, absolutely incensed that As Nodt would use Senbonzakura against Byakuya. Renji isn’t doing great, but he’s not doing terrible when Byakuya gets up and tries to help Renji, even though he’s a big bloody mess. As Nodt reacts by shredding Byakuya into chunks, and Renji just loses it, and if Mask de Masculine hadn’t shown up and kicked him halfway across the Seireitei, I daresay Renji would have killed himself trying to take down As Nodt.

This is where I usually make the point that if Byakuya had died to here, it would have broken Renji into little pieces, but that’s not today’s essay. Instead, everyone goes to the Royal Realm, and by virtue of the fact that Byakuya is injured worse than everyone else, Renji has to go forward without him or his approval.

In typical Renji fashion, the thing that motivates Renji here is not glory or heroism, but the desire to accompany Ichigo, the need to be with his friends in their times of trial. In fact his companionship here is absolutely essential-- at Hikifune’s, Ichigo expresses deep doubts that he’s doing the right thing, and Renji reminds himself that if he wants to protect others, he has to take care of himself first.

At Nimaiya’s however, Renji and Ichigo are split up because they must follow their own paths. The other extremely interesting thing that happens here is that Renji’s sword is reforged. Byakuya shattered one of Hihio Zabimaru’s joints the very first time Renji used them in combat. Renji brushed it off at the time, saying that he could get by without it. Even though Byakuya has long been his motivating force and his mentor, he’s also been held back by his connection to him. And at this point, it’s gone.

I really wish we got to see where Renji and Rukia meet up again, but we don’t. Unlike with Ichigo, though, Rukia doesn’t seem to need anything from Renji. They travel together, fight together as equals, wear matching outfits, like you do. Oh. Wait. After all this time, in the 493 chapters between Needless Emotions and Blue Stripes, Renji can finally see himself as an equal to Rukia. They get. bankai. Together.

I want to emphasize that it’s not really anything about Rukia herself that allowed Renji to make bankai, it’s the fact that he’s finally managed to move past the feeling that he’s not enough. Defeating Byakuya would not actually have solved this problem, and having Byakuya dying in front of him wouldn’t have either. Renji gets criticized for losing a lot of his fights, but that’s such a key to his character. He’s not always the strongest, he doesn’t always win, but he keeps fighting for what he cares about. He struggles with his need for approval, for external validation, but Renji is at his best when he doesn’t have time to think about that, when he’s just fighting by his friends’ sides against impossible odds, doing what he knows in his heart is right.

I think people tend to make a little more than is strictly necessary of the line where he tells Mask that he’s “a villain”, I think he’s most just making fun of Mask’s own self-aggrandizement. On another level, though, this is just Renji being at ease with himself. Byakuya typically enters a fight bloviating about the honor of Soul Society and “how dare you raise your sword against me, the 28th Head of the Kuchiki” and even Ikkaku had the whole deal about telling people your name before you kill them, but Renji is more like “you beat up my friends, so I’m gonna break your face,” like there’s no ego in it, just you’re there, and he’s there, and then you’re lying on the ground and he’s taking a nap somewhere. This is so different than the insecure, posturing young man he was at the start of this series and I love this growth for him.

Even after he eventually meets up with Byakuya again, something has changed about their dynamic. The group gets split up and rejoined two or three times, and Renji and Rukia always stay together while Byakuya ends up fighting alongside others, Hisagi and later Hitsugaya and Zaraki. This is cemented in their last scene together, where Rukia and Renji try to stay with Byakuya and he sends them off to fight with Ichigo by saying “your help is not needed here.” In some ways, it’s an echo of Byakuya sending them off to Hueco Mundo, but in other ways, it’s acknowledging that they are their own people, not just an extension of him.

Hitsugaya follows it up with this:

There’s more here than meets the eye, though-- Byakuya and Renji have maintained a pretty strict superior-subordinate relationship, because that’s the easiest way for them to make sense of the world, but the fact is, they do care about each other and are important to one another.

I know there would be a certain narrative satisfaction in seeing Renji make captain at the end-- he’s one of the hardest working people in Bleach, and it frankly seems weird to see Iba get the haori when he doesn’t. But Renji has never wanted to be a captain. Renji becoming captain would, in some ways, be a failure. He spends years pre-canon chasing rank and prestige because that’s what he thinks will make him worthy, and it didn’t. Instead, he found worth in being himself, in loving his friends and being there for them, in learning things from Byakuya and teaching him things in return. Renji doesn’t need to be Byakuya’s lieutenant anymore, he just does it because he likes it. It makes him happy. What better character development is there than that?

#renji abarai #byakuya kuchiki #tybwa #god i love to get up on a saturday and write essays about renji's character development #tldr: renji checks off all the gotei career milestones *except* making captain and then proceeds to lean in to his true calling: malewife #we stan legends only

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eisforeidolon · 2 years ago

Note

https://youtu.be/91PsKb85qlg

In case you want to see where Jensen said his favorite season was 5-15....it's around timestamp 38 to 40:00 at NOLAcon main panel.

Thanks for the link, anon! [X]

Yeah, like I said, I mostly go by my memory and it's not remotely infallible. I do remain pretty sure that Jensen has given a different answer previously, though, and let's be real, I think it's pretty clear he's being a bit facetious for the laugh in this particular answer, transcribed below:

Fan: [after some banter over her describing them as cute] My question now is if you could pick a season for each of you that was your favorite, what was your favorite season that you guys did? And I guess, why?

Jared: I'm gonna say two things. One, is the truth that I've answered before, season 4 was pretty special for me, for many reasons. But I will go another season, I mean, how do you pick? But I think another season I had a lot of fun in, even though it was very - it seemed daunting? Was season 6 - that was soulless. Yeah, I had a lot of fun, I remember going, it's - 'cause Kripke did the first five seasons and then Sera took over? And I remember I was in LA for some reason, and I went to the writers' office and hung out with Sera, took her a bottle of wine, champagne, or something? To say like, 'Congratulations on the show and this and that, and what's the show about?' And she was like, 'So get this, you do come back from hell, but you're soulless.' And I was like, 'What? I don't know what that ... I don't even know how to start preparing for that.' So I was able to spend that hiatus preparing and then I had a really damn good time doing it, and so I'll go with 6 for today.

Jensen: Um, I kinda lost count after about 4? So from like 5 to 15 is like all kind of one big season? So, uh ... that season. 5-15.

Jared: That was a good season.

Jensen: A good season.

Jared: One of those good old 200 episode seasons. [laughing]

Jensen: No, it was really, it was - I think that one, really the arc, you know, from 5-15, I think really, really spoke to me. It was a long one, but we got there.

Jared [to fan]: What was your favorite?

Fan: Um, I think like my first favorite, 1-4 are my favorite. Not that they weren't all good but I just loved that you guys went out and you did, like each episode was a little different one. That was my favorite.

Jensen: I literally picked the complete opposite. There were two options, there was 1-4 and I picked 5-15, and then she was like, 'Cute. Again, you're being cute, but you're wrong. It's 1-4.' Which, well played.

Jared: Bravo. Thank you so much.

#askboxery #anonymous #nolacon 2021 main panel

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thankskenpenders · 4 years ago

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Is it me or did the first five pages of IDW Sonic #40 feel... weird? Like a lot of flat colors, very little shading, effects felt unfinished... I thought maybe it was just something wrong with my issue

I just kind of thought it was a stylistic choice when I was reading the issue. There have been scenes in previous issues with flat colors, including Adam and Reggie's crazy technicolor kaleidoscope effect at the end of #37 (which are easily two of my favorite pages in the whole series)

It's important to realize, though, that this issue had two pencilers, two inkers, and two colorists (neither of whom had colored the previous issues of this arc). Compare that to most IDW issues, which have one penciler (sometimes two), no separate inker, and one colorist. And I don't think it's hard to figure out why. With two main series issues AND a 30th anniversary special due out this month, that adds up to 120 pages of Sonic comics for the crew to finish, as opposed to the usual 20. (In particular, Aaron and Reggie have mentioned how monumental a task the 60-page Seasons of Chaos story in the anniversary special was to complete.) And for once there was no room to delay the issue a week or two, because IDW promised a solid month of Sonic releases for the anniversary. I would not be surprised at all if production on this issue was very down to the wire and they had to bring on some extra help at the last minute

I don't think this hurt the story at all - the action was still fun and those scenes with Belle were still EXTREMELY impactful. It's just important to remember that comic books are made by human beings, and most of the time the priority is just getting the book out the door, not polishing every single panel to a mirror shine. (And a few pages with gorgeous pencils and minimal shading is, of course, NOTHING compared to some of the stuff Archie published to fill space)

#anon #ask

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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago

Text

It’s Always Been You ~ 144

OUT OF TIME MASTERLIST

IT’S ALWAYS BEEN YOU MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,660ish

Summary: The time travel mission gets started.

Notes: You must read Out Of Time in order to understand this. The chapter numbers continue from Out Of Time.

“I’m going to look the suits over one last time before looking my reactor over,” Tony whispered to Y/N. “Are you going to be okay alone for a little while?”

“I’ll be fine,” she responded. “I need some time alone anyway.”

“Okay. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

They shared a brief kiss before Tony headed for the lab and Y/N went outside. She was craving a run, wanting time to short through her thoughts. She began with a slow jog, slowly increasing her speed the more she thought about everything that had happened and could possibly happen.

Rounding the track for the seventh time, she noticed Steve waiting. She rolled her eyes and pushed herself to run faster passed him. Too bad Y/N wasn’t a super soldier too, he quickly caught up with her.

“We need to talk,” Steve said, running beside her.

“I’m done talking,” she retorted, trying to push herself harder.

Steve sighed and easily caught up with her again. “Well I’m not. Can you stop for a second?”

“No.”

“Y/N, I just want to talk.”

“And I don’t want to listen.”

“Please.”

“Steve, I really don’t want to do this—“

“I’m sorry.”

Those words had Y/N skidding to a sudden stop. She was panting, too shocked to turn around. As soon as the words left his mouth, Steve had stopped. They were a few feet apart, but it felt like miles.

“What?” Y/N breathed out, slowly turning around.

“I’m sorry,” her brother repeated. “And in saying that, I know that it’s not enough. But… I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for exactly? Bringing me along with you back in the 40s? Me waking up before you? You not accepting that I’m different now then I was, and that’s okay? Or for you not trusting me? For doubting me?”

“For all of it. I’m sorry that I brought you along on that world tour. I’m sorry that you fell from the ship and I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry that you had to spend years without any family members, believing that Bucky and I were dead. I can’t—“ He shook his head. “I can’t even imagine how lonely that felt. Because I woke up and I still had you. Though, you had changed…. And I’m sorry for not accepting it sooner. I… I guess I’m just hurt because you kept those things for me. Out of all people, you kept all these things from me, your twin. Your abilities, Coulson, your knowledge of the Stones… you knew so much, yet you didn’t share it…. And… And I guess I’m jealous.”

“Jealous? Of what?”

“You’ve found someone who loves you and fights for you. And you fight for equally in return. You guys lean on each other through everything, which is so admirable. And you have Morgan, who is the greatest thing. I love her so much.”

“She loves you too.”

“I want what you have… and I haven’t been able to find it. It’s killing me… the only person who I’ve ever wanted a family with was Peggy. And that’s not an option.”

“You’ll find someone better than her. I know it’s hard to believe, but you will.”

“I’m sorry, for everything. I really am.” Y/N was hesitant to believe Steve, and he could tell. “I don’t want to go into tomorrow, whatever may happen, without having cleared things up with you. I don’t want to do tomorrow without you knowing that I do love you and I do trust you…. Can you forgive me?”

Y/N bit her lips and looked away, trying to keep the emotions at bay and failing. She looked back at her brother and took a deep breath. “Yes… I forgive you.”

Steve rushed up and bear hugged his sister. She quickly wrapped her arms around him as well.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve whispered.

“I know,” she replied. “I am too. Let’s try and not be at each other’s throats constantly.”

“I think I can do that.” He pulled away, still holding onto her arms. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Putting up with me.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly made it easy on you either.”

“Right. Have you called Morgan yet tonight?”

“I haven’t, but she’s probably already in bed.”

“Do you think we could try? I want to see her, before anything happens tomorrow.”

“Good thing I have her on the line right here, Cap,” Tony stated, walking towards the twins.

“Uncle Steve!!!” Morgan squealed from the phone.

“Mo!!” Steve quickly swiped the phone from Tony. “How’s my favorite niece doing?”

“Good! Happy and Pepper let me swim in the lake today!”

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, pushing to get into the view of the camera. “It’s October!”

“I didn’t— Morgan give me the phone,” Happy ordered. He swiped it from the little girl. “We didn’t let her! She snuck out.”

“Way to go, Mo!” Tony cheered.

Y/N smacked his arm. “Don’t encourage this,” she scolded.

“Sorry.”

“I’m sorry, momma,” Morgan said sadly, taking the phone back from Happy.

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Y/N replied. “I just don’t want you to get sick. Okay?”

“Okay… when are you and daddy coming home?”

Y/N made eye-contact with the men surrounding her before looking back at her daughter. “Hopefully tomorrow night, or the next day.”

“Yay! Will Uncle Steve be coming with you?” Y/N looked at Steve.

“Of course,” Steve answered. “I need some time with my biggest fan.”

“Yay!!!!!”

“Okay,” Tony took the phone, “it’s time to go to bed, little miss. We love you.”

“Love you 3000!”

“Love you baby,” Y/N said as Tony hung up the phone. “This is going to work, right?” She looked at the men, pleading with her eyes. “We’re going to get the Stones, bring everyone back, and no one is going to die…. Right?”

Tony cupped her face and her hands when to grab onto his wrists. “Nothing is going to happen,” Tony promised her. “We are all going to be okay. And we,” he paused for a brief kiss on her lips, “are going to get back to Morgan safely.”

“Tony’s right,” Steve agreed. Tony broke contact with Y/N’s face, bringing an arm around her waist and pulling her into his side. “We’re going to get through this.”

“I hope so,” she whispered.

~~~

Tony and Y/N said goodnight to Steve and headed straight for their room. The door had barely shut before Tony had her up against the wall and his tongue in her mouth. Y/N willing grasped onto him, letting him take control.

“I love you,” he murmured against her as they worked together to tear their clothes off. “I love you… I love you.”

“Are you trying to make up for us not having sex when we said we would?” She panted ever so slightly.

“Maybe,” he smirked, lifting her up. “Or maybe, I just want to show my wife how much I love her before we head off to the past tomorrow.” He gently laid her on the bed and he knelt over her. He ran his fingers down the side of her face. “I love you,” he repeated.

“And I love you… now, are we doing to do it? Or are you going to make me beg?”

~~~

The Team could feel the weight of their mission when they woke up in the morning. Getting geared up, everyone checked everything over numerous times. Scared to over look anything. The Team headed to the platform together, with Steve leading the charge. Bruce stopped at the control panel as the rest walked up onto the platform. They each took a position around where the opening would be, Y/N in the middle of Steve and Tony. They all looked at their Captain to say something before they headed off. With a sigh and a second to get his thoughts together, Steve began:

“Five years ago, we lost. All of us. We lost friends… We lost family… We lost a part of ourselves. Today, we have a chance to take it all back. You know your teams, you know your missions. Get the stones, get them back. One round trip each. No mistakes. No do-overs. Most of us are going somewhere we know. But it doesn't mean we should know what to expect. Be careful. Look out for each other. This is the fight of our lives. And we're gonna win.” Looking passed Y/N, Steve and Tony shared a look. “Whatever it takes. Good luck.”

“He’s pretty good at that,” Rocket commented.

“Right?” Scott agreed.

“Alright. You heard the man,” Tony said. “Stroke those keys, jolly green.”

“Tractors engaged,” Bruce responded.

Tony reached over to Y/N and tugged her into him, landed a loving kiss on her lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she responded.

Bruce joined them on the platform and the quantum realm opened up. Tony and Y/N separated, looking down at the swirling colors. Natasha was smiling excitedly.

Turning to Steve, she said, “See you in a minute.”

Steve gave her a small smile in response before the Team’s helmets formed and they shrunk, entering the quantum realm. They were all together at first, until their GPS’ split the groups up to where they were heading. Tony, Steve, Y/N, Bruce, and Scott landed in New York 2012, in the midst of the Battle of New York. Their suits disappeared and Y/N immediately gasped loudly, stumbling back. Tony and Steve were quickly at her side to stable.

“Honey? Honey, talk to me,” Tony urged as Y/N’s breathing matched her rapid heartbeat. “What’s going on?”

“Th-The Stones,” she gasped. She could feel the connection forming once again. “They… I can…”

“Can you control them?” Steve questioned, trying to see if he could see what Y/N was trying to get at.

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Do you need to sit down?” Tony wondered.

“I’ll be fine. I just…” The buzzing began, making Y/N cringe. “I just need a second. But you guys can start without me. It shouldn’t be hard for me to catch up.”

“You sure?” Steve asked.

“I’m sure.”

“Alright then, we all have our assignments. Two Stones uptown, one Stone, down. Stay low. Keep an eye on the clock.”

Suddenly 2012 Hulk passed by their alleyway, smashing everything along his way. Bruce put his hand on his face, embarrassed. Steve looked at him.

“Feel free to smash a few things along the way,” Steve said.

“I think it’s gratuitous, but whatever,” Bruce muttered. He looked Y/N’s way. “You coming?”

“Yeah,” she responded. She leaned over and kissed Tony, pulling him closer by his neck. “Please be save.”

“Always,” he smirked. The two shared one last kiss before Y/N broke off and headed Bruce’s way.

“Need a lift?” Bruce asked, tearing off his shirt.

“Nah,” she grinned, opening a portal behind her. “I think I have a better way.”

“Jealous!” Scott exclaimed. “Do we have to— Ahh!!”

Scott failed to finish what he was saying, due to the fact that Y/N had opened portals beneath the others. She waved and blew a kiss as they fell through, landing them behind the Tower. She chuckled as she went through her portal, Bruce following. Closing the portal, Y/N and Bruce looked to see that they were in the Sanctum where they had met Dr. Strange.

“Hello?” Y/N said. “Is anyone—ah!”

Her trick was played on her and Bruce. The two of them falling through a portal and onto the roof.

“Careful,” the Ancient One warned. “I just had the floors waxed.”

“I’m looking for Doctor Strange,” Bruce said, him and Y/N standing up.

“You’re about… five years too early. Stephen Strange is currently performing surgery about twenty blocks that way.” She pointed. “But you should have known that already.” She looked right at Y/N. “What do you want from him?”

“That, actually.” Bruce pointed towards the necklace around her neck.

“Ah! I’m afraid not.”

“Sorry, but I wasn’t asking.”

“Maybe we should—“

“You don’t want to do this,” the Ancient One interrupted Y/N.

“Ah, you’re right, I don’t,” Bruce responded. He made a grab from he necklace. “But we need that Stone, and we don’t have time to beat it—“

The Ancient One quickly pushed Bruce’ astral form out of his body. Bruce, who now looked more human, stared at the Ancient One horrified.

“Let’s start over,�� the Ancient One said, “shall we?”

“You know who I am?” Y/N asked.

“I do. But, do you know who are?”

“I’m getting there. And I’m so sorry to bug, but we really need that Time Stone.”

“No.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“I do.”

“Then you know why we need it.”

“Still, a no."

“Please, please,” Bruce, still in astral form, begged.

“I’m sorry, I can’t help you two. If I give up the Time Stone to help your reality, I’m dooming my own.”

“With all due respect, I’m not sure the science really supports that.”

The Ancient One created a projection of a long ray, simulating the flow of time. Projections of the Stones hovered above it.

“The Infinity Stones create what you experience as the flow of time. Remove one Stone and that flow splits,” she explained before she plucked the Time Stone projection away and pointed at the diverging line. “Now, this may benefit your reality, but my new one… not so much. In this new branched reality, without our chief weapon against the forces of darkness, our world will be overrun. Millions will suffer. So, tell me, can your science prevent all that?”

“No, but we can erase it,” Bruce retorted. “Because once we are done with the stones, we can return each one to its own timeline at the moment it was taken. So, chronologically,” he held the Time Stone projection, “in that reality,” he set it back, “it never left.” The diverging line disappeared.

“But you are leaving out the most important part. In order to return the Stones, someone would have to survive.”

“We will. I will. I promise.”

“I can’t risk this reality on a promise. It is the duty of the Sorcerer Supreme to protect the Time Stone.” She turned away.

“Then, why the hell did Strange give it away?”

She turned back, shocked. “What did you say?”

“Strange, he gave it away,” Y/N repeated, surprised that the Ancient One didn’t know since she seemed to know everything. “He gave it to Thanos.”

“Willingly?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We have no idea,” Bruce answered. “Maybe he made a mistake.”

“Or I did.” She returned Bruce into his body and opened her necklace, revealing the Time Stone. “Strange is meant to be the best of us.”

“Ancient One, please trust us,” Y/N pled. “I am realizing now you only know so much, but you know what I am meant to do. And I cannot do it without the Stones. They were destroyed and I have no access to them. We need the Stone so that we can bring everyone back and… and so that I can complete whatever calling the Stones have put upon me… Strange knew the calling as well. So he must have given the Time Stone away for a reason.”

“I fear you might be right.” She handed Y/N the Time Stone.

“I’m counting on you two. We all are.”

“Thank you.”

Y/N handed the Stone over to Bruce, who had something to put it in. Bruce nodded before pressing a button and disappearing. Before Y/N could follow after him, the Ancient One called out to her.

“Y/N.” Y/N stopped and turned. “Before you go, you might want to check on your husband and brother.”

“What? Is something wrong?”

“Just go to their meeting place. And, Y/N, be careful.”

next chapter >

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

Note

One last one for the moment; top five superheroes who definitely AREN'T Pulp Heroes, but could be with a little tweaking?

Oof, that's a hard one. It's a hard one because, again, there ultimately isn't that much separation between the two to the point there's enough of a hard line in there to work with, but I guess the cat's out of the bag now that I've staked claims on there being differences between them.

Okay so, not counting superheroes who are deliberately modeled after actual pulp heroes, so no Tom Strong or Night Raven here. I'm sticking mainly with comic book superheroes (barring one oddball exception) since the medium separation is important), who I think could become pulp heroes with some tweaking.

5: Captain America

Sort of cheating because I already covered it here, but I definitely have to include Captain America in here, especially in the stories they actively go for a "pulp" vibe as well as the earliest ones.

Fun fact about Marvel: As Timely, they actually began life as pulp publishers. Not just pulp publishers, but specializing in some of the sleaziest, ghastliest magazines of the era, and you can bet this carried over to their superheroes. Where as DC's superheroes took inspiration from the big pulp heroes such as The Shadow and Doc Savage, Timely's superheroes seemed instead much more inspired by Weird Tales stories and Poverty Row horror films, and even in the 60s, Marvel never really abandoned their horror roots, the trick was just using them as a baseline to create superheroes. In DC, the world's first contact with superheroes begins with the world looking in wonder at a friendly strongman. In Marvel, it began with the world looking in panicked horror at a flaming monster rampaging through the streets desperately trying to not burn everything it touches. It should come to little surprise then that the majority of characters I'm including in this list are Marvel characters.

People think Captain America's first comics largely consisted of him fighting Nazis left and right, but they were actually much more often based around him encountering monsters and creatures of horror, like the above panel where it looks like Cap's staring down the beginning of Berserk's Eclipse (RIP Miura).

The early Captain America comics pretty much consisted of Kirby dipping his toe into the monster comics he'd make in the 50s which would later bleed into the 60s Marvel entourage. They even tried repackaging Captain America into a horror anthology in the 50s titled "Captain America's Weird Tales", just imagine how different the character would be today if that somehow stuck.

Imagine a world where Steve Rogers never became leader of The Avengers, never got to become the shining beacon of heroism of an entire universe, and instead, when he was unfrosted, he woke up to find a world running rampant with crawling nightmares and Nazi tyranny, and he has no idea what's become of his former sidekick. That definitely sounds like the start of a promising pulp adventure.

4: Namor

Another Timely creation. In Namor's case, he didn't so much encounter horrors from beyond imagination, as much as HE was the terrifying thing beyond us ready to rampage upon mankind, whose first on-screen act consists of the calculated slaughter of a ship full of innocents. The first true villain protagonist of comic books. Not just an anti-hero, a villain intent on wiping out the human race.

And not just a cardboard supervillain, but the beautiful prince of a race of ugly fish monsters, a momma's boy who's doing what he thinks is right by warring with surface dwellers. While Namor's become largely defined by his gargantuan arrogance, here, he's almost childlike, despite being much more brutal and villainous here, spurred on by the whims of his mother, who even acknowledges that Namor had no real reason to kill the divers but did so anyway, and now encourages him to genocide. His mom even tells him "Go now, to the land of white people!", and the very last panel of the story even states he's on a "crusade against white men".

The massacre of explorers at the hands of something beyond their understanding. A monster born of an interracial coupling. A race of fish monsters with bulging eyes, antagonistic towards humanity but are shown to have positive traits just the same. A dash of racism. There is no mistaking The Sub-Mariner's pulp horror influence.

A non-white superhuman warrior born from a Lovecraftian horror story, who gradually moves away from his villainous crusade into becoming more of an anti-hero, never truly putting aside his hatred for humanity, remaining a temperamental, unpredictable outcast, with a strong, palpable undercurrent of anger in his stories. I could very easily buy Namor as having crawled out of a Weird Tales story and I can't think of other superheroes whose origins are as steeped deeply in pulp horror.

3: Doctor Fate

Technically we already have a pulp hero version of Doctor Fate in Doc Fate, and I'll get to him separately, but even besides him, the earliest Doctor Fate stories in particular feel very much like he's a character steeped in the worlds of pulp and pulp horror who decided to put on a superhero costume and show up in comic.

He's got a similar set-up to The Shadow, from the pulp Shadow in the sense that he's a mysterious, eerie crimefighter who dwells as a presence more often than an active character and who kills criminals without remorse, always watching and waiting for the right time to strike as a a wrathful old-testament force of vengeance, and from the radio Shadow due to him using superpowers to fight crime while being accompanied by a smart, fierce love interest.

Originally, Fate was not a sorcerer, but instead a scientist who discovered a way to manipulate atomic structure, of his and other things, thus making it appear that he can do magic (although we never see his face, and he's implied to be thousands of years old, before they settled on the Nabu origin). And going back to Lovecraft, a lot of it appears in the earliest Fate stories. Fate was given powers not by a sorcerer, but an alien worshipped as a god. He barely encounters traditional monsters, but instead contends with hidden races, zombie slaves, abandoned alien monoliths, and half man and half fish creatures. Fate may have actually been the very first pastiche of Lovecraft in pop culture.

And of course we can't forget the gloriousness of Doc Fate pulling an Indiana Jones on us.

2: Wolverine

I don't even think you'd have to tweak Wolverine at all. You'd just have to get him out of the costume and Avengers/X-Men associations (although the X-Men have a substantial background in pulp sci-fi stories like Slan and Odd John, so they aren't really at odds here), maybe tone down his powers a bit and, that's it. Logan's already the kind of character who has such a varied sandbox history, whose powers can lead to so many different scenarios, that it's not a stretch at all to picture Wolverine in the usual pulp hero scenarios.

You can have half-naked Wolverine running around in the jungle with animals Tarzan-style, take him to Savage Land if you wanna throw dinosaurs in there. He's already Marvel's foremost "wandering samurai/cowboy" character which was one of the stock and trade types of the pulps. Western? Done. Samurai? Done. Wuxia? Just put him in China and add a couple extra fantasy elements. Wanna make a sword and sorcery story with him? He already comes with a bunch of knives and savagery and ability to survive grisly injuries. Horror? The MCU is crawling with them, or alternatively, tell a story from the perspective of someone who's being hunted down by Wolverine. Wanna tell a detective/noir/post-apocalypse story? Logan's right there.

Wanna have him crossover with pulp heroes? He's lived through the 1800s and 1900s and traveled all over the world, you could feasibly have him meet up with just about any of them. Logan may actually be the purest example of your question, because he's very much not a Pulp Hero, and yet, he definitely feels like a character who could have been one, at just about any point in the history of pulp magazines. He's perfect for it.

1: Wario

WAAA-okay, look, bear with me for a second here, I'm not just picking Wario because I love oddball choices and he's one of my favorite characters, I got some logic to this.

Okay so, the first question here: is Mario a superhero? While I'm usually adverse to calling characters prominent outside of comic books superheroes (hence why I'm definitely not interested in debating whether Harry Potter or Goku or Link or Frodo are superheroes), I do think it's a pretty shut case that, yes, Mario is a superhero. Superheroes don't just come in the form of skintight crimefighters, right from the start comic books have had varied types of superheroes appearing in comics and comic strips. For example, the "funny animal" superheroes are a type older than superhero comics, and they were arguably not only the most successful type of superhero of the 40s-50s era, but arguably defined trends dominating nonfunny animal superheroes, traits that predated or influenced Captain Marvel as well as Otto Binder's reshaping of Superman that defined much of superhero convention as we know it. It's part of why the question of "Is Sonic a superhero" has a very clear Yes as an answer.

So upon establishing that, yes, funny cartoon characters can be and are superheroes too, is Mario one? Well, I'd say yes. He's got an iconic uniform, he's got superpowers, he goes on fantastical adventures, he is both a nebulously general do-gooder as well as having a clear mission as protector of the Mushroom Kingdom. His adventures span multiple storytelling formats, he's got catchphrases, he even dresses up in Superman's colors and has a Super prefix iconically associated with him. Not a superhero the way we usually think of, but a superhero nonetheless.

And Wario? Well, putting aside Wario-Man who's more of a running gag than anything, Wario does just about everything Mario does. He's got all the traits that define Mario as a superhero short of a Super prefix and the selfless mission (which isn't exactly a rule). He goes around and gets into crazy adventures, he picks up items, beats bad guys, conquers the odds, and gets some kind of prize for it. He's got Mario's physical traits, and Mario's costume, and just about the same name short of a single letter. The caveat being, of course, that he's Wario, and so everything Mario is or does has to be exaggerated to gross extreme.

Mario is paunchy and strong, Wario's round and built like a powerlifter. Mario's got a friendly face and a fluffy mustache, Wario's got a massive horrible grin and jagged razors for a stache. Mario is a bit of an overeater, Wario can and will eat anything in front of him. Mario gets around with acrobatics and magic power-ups, Wario brute forces his way through everything and just rolls with whatever injuries he picks up along the way.

Mario gets fire powers by consuming magic flowers. Wario sets himself on fire and barrels around destroying everything in his path. Mario harnesses the elements or abilities of beings around him to clear obstacles and solve puzzles, Wario gets turned into a zombie, a vampire or a drunk to get the same things done. Mario befriends and rides dinosaurs who raised him from infancy, Wario piledrives dinosaurs and then uses their bodies to beat up more dinosaurs. Mario pals around with fellow heroes, princesses and friendly fantasy creatures, Wario pals around with aliens, witches, mad scientists, cab drivers, and lanky weirdos. Mario always ends his adventures joyfully leaping to the next one, Wario usually ends up either cackling in a pile of treasure or completely broke.

Mario races through plains to rescue princesses, Wario invades pyramids to hunt for treasure. Mario jumps through planets with baby stars guiding his path, Wario crashes into the Amazon jungle and fistfights the devil. You can see where I'm going with this.

If you were to take one of Nintendo's heroes to make them into pulp heroes, Wario, specifically the Wario Land Wario, may be the only one who really could do it, because in essence, he's the videogame equivalent of Professor Challenger. He's Bluto moonlighting as Indiana Jones, the weird brute adventurer for weird brute adventures where everything's off limits and you can trust our intrepid hero, who really shouldn't be a hero on all accounts, to deliver us a good time, give or take a couple deaths, scams, shams and oh-damns to complete said mad treasure hunts.

#replies tag #not pulp heroes #comic books #dr fate #wolverine #captain america #namor #wario

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aquaticalay · 5 years ago

Text

F.R.I.D.A.Y. I'm in Love (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: While singing 'Friday, I'm in love' by The Cure in the kitchen to yourself, a certain AI thinks you're talking to her. She tells you something you didn't know, and decides to play matchmaker on Christmas morning, because why not?

Genre: christmas fluff :)

Word count: 2.5k

Song: Friday, I'm in Love by The Cure

Note: Merry Xmas! This is my last fic before vacation! This is also my first one shot in a while. Hope you like it!!

You were the first one awake at the compound, but that wasn't anything out of the usual. You always wake up at least half an hour earlier than anybody else in the compound without fail, every single day. It was simply an old habit you can't seem to get rid of, no matter how tired you were or how late you slept the night before.

The only thing that made a difference was that it's the day before christmas. Since you and Bucky were the only people with no family to celebrate it with, the two of you stayed behind to keep an eye on the compound. You had somehow convinced Bucky to agree on helping you set up decorations today. Besides, you also need help setting up the realistic-looking artificial pine tree at the corner of the common room. You already had a vision: green, white, and red ribbons filling up the ceiling and fairy lights as far as the eye can see.

But that was your plan for later in the afternoon. Right now, the sun had just barely began to rise.

You made your way to the kitchen, thinking of making pancakes for breakfast. You hummed a tune as you opened the cupboards for a pan and ingredients. You eyeballed the flour and sugar, sifted them in a bowl and went to the fridge to get the rest of the contents needed.

Lost in your own world, the tunes you hummed turned into cohesive words, an actual song that you had been listening to lately and can't seem to get out of your head.

"I don't care if Monday's blue," you sang, cracking the eggs, making sure the shell stayed out of the batter, "Tuesday's gray and Wednesday too."

You poured the milk and butter, "Thursday, I don't care about you," you grabbed a whisk and pretended it was a microphone, "It's Friday, I'm in love."

"May I guess with who?" FRIDAY quipped suddenly.

You yelped in shock and dropped the whisk into the batter, some of it splattering to your shirt and face. Just a little, but enough to piss you off.

"What?" You asked, slightly annoyed.

"You told me you were in love," you heard the AI say through the built in speakers of the room, "may I guess with who?".

You let out a lighthearted laugh, "First of all, it's just a song," you rolled your eyes with a smile, amused by the misunderstanding of the supposedly smart AI. "Secondly," you continued, "I am not in love with anybody at the moment."

FRIDAY then said, in a matter-of-factly manner, "But you are."

Furrowing your eyebrows, annoyed, you stubbornly told her, "No, I'm not."

"You are," the AI insisted, and before you can deny it once again, she told you, "You show all physical and hormonal signs of being in love— increased levels of dopamine, adrenaline, and norepinephrine, increased heart rate, and dilated pupils— in the presence of Sergeant James Barnes."

Your mind stopped just enough to catch up with what FRIDAY. was telling you.

"What?" You asked, flustered, as blood rushed to your cheeks, "No!"

"It's true," said the AI calmly, then displayed a panel of hologram on the island kitchen, usually used for mission briefings— your vitals, including your hormone levels. "These are your average body scans whenever you are in the same room as Sergeant Barnes," she said.

"That's enough, Friday!" you exclaimed, almost squeaking, embarrassed. She then took down the hologram, to your relief.

You admit, you have always been fond of Bucky, and dare you say, quite attached to him, but it never occurred to you that you loved him, mostly because everytime you even thought of the four-letter terrifying word, you pushed it to the deepest, darkest corner of your mind, lock it in a glass box and throw away the key, never to be seen again. The subject of love terrifies you, though the thought of being romantically involved with Bucky did give you a certain feeling of satisfaction and comfort, and maybe, just maybe, hope of it being able to work out.

Oops, there's the thought again.

Time to bury it six feet underground.

"In case you're curious, Sergeant Barnes also—" the AI started, but you shushed her furiously, "Fri, I don't want to hear it."

"But—" she began, but you cut her off again, "Please don't."

Sensing your discomfort, she stopped saying whatever she was about to say.

You continued to make your pancakes in peace, if there was ever any.

You hummed the tune of the same song, careful not to say the actual words to it. You turned on the stove an put a frying pan on it measuring your batter out for an even and fluffy pancake.

The automatic door opened, and Bucky entered the room, yawning. He was wearing a grey shirt and shorts. As he smelled the sweet aroma of the batter cooking, his gaze turned to you.

"Mornin' doll," he smiled lazily, greeting you. He seemed to be in an especially good mood today. Ever since you joined almost a year ago, he had given you the nickname, and you adapted to it quickly.

"Morning, Buck," you hummed, flipping the pancakes. Bucky walked towards you and took in the smell exaggeratingly. "Hope you made some for me."

You chuckled, "Of course."

You stacked the first three pancakes on an empty plate and handed it to Bucky, who gave you a chaste kiss on the side of your head.

This type of casual affection has been going on for a while now, a little over five months. He'd kiss you on the cheeks or forehead whenever he said thank you, hello, or goodbye. You'd also cuddle against him on movie nights and lean on his shoulder while sitting on the dinner table, but neither of you ever spoke about it. You never wanted to think much about these flirtatious exchanges. You assumed this was just who he was, and you were just playing his game. He was a ladies' man in the 40s, after all, and you were just all-all round playful person.

You stacked your own pancakes and turned off the stove.

You sat next to Bucky on the couch, who was currently pouring a shit ton of maple syrup on his pancakes, squeezing the bottle with his metal arm.

You chuckled at his behaviour, and he raised his eyebrows at you.

"What are you laughing at?" He tried to pretend to be serious, but he can't help but show a hint of a grin on his adorable face.

"Nothing," you shook your head playfully and started eating the sugar-filled breakfast.

Deciding it was too quiet, Bucky decided to ask FRIDAY a favor. "Friday," Bucky called, "play some music, please."

FRIDAY complied almost immediately, and the tune of the song she played was too familiar.

Your cheeks turned bright red in a matter of seconds. Why would she play that?

"I don't care if Monday's blue

Tuesday's grey and Wednesday, too

Thursday I don't care about you

It's Friday, I'm in love"

Bucky stuffed pancakes in his mouth as he listened to the song, "I've never heard this song before," he mentioned, his head moving subtly to the tempo of the song, "It's nice."

"Uh, yeah," you managed to nervously blurt out.

Bucky turned his head to you, "You cold, doll?" He asked, concern in his voice.

"No, why?"

"You're red," he pointed out worriedly, "Are you sure you're not sick?"

"No, I'm just—" you started, trying to find an excuse, but nothing comes to mind. You couldn't tell him you're embarrassed, and you already told him you weren't cold, "—I don't know."

As the song continued playing, Bucky placed the back of his hand on your forehead to check for a fever, but he was met with a normal, cool skin. He tried not to think too much about it. He shrugged and told you, "Just let me know if you feel unwell, okay? I know where Scott keeps his emergency cold medicine."

You managed a nod, and tried to distract yourself by eating your pancakes.

You started to feel relief wash over you as the song came to an end, but when it did end, it started to play again, as if FRIDAY had it on loop.

"Weird," Bucky quipped.

"Yeah, weird," you said, a little quieter than usual, "Friday, please play another song," you said, but Bucky cut you off, "No, I want to listen to it again," he said, "One more time? I really like it."

You sunk into your seat, having forced to suffer through this song again.

That afternoon, Bucky helped you set up the ribbons and lights, and now he was helping you with the tree ornaments.

The time you spent together were spent in laughter and joy, playfully teasing each other. He told you a lot about his old family traditions, how his little sister Rebecca and him would use their spare money to get their mother a gift every year. In return, you made him hot chocolate, made from your grandma's special recipe.

"Bucky," you called, "give me a boost so I can get the star on top of the tree."

You showed him the star. It was brilliant red. He chuckled to himself, wondering if you intentionally got it to match his old logo.

Without warning, he grabbed your waist, and spun you around playfully. You yelped in shock, steadying yourself by putting a hand on his shoulder. You laughed a little, "The tree, Buck," you reminded him, and he chuckled, rolling his eyes. "okay, okay."

You placed the star on top, and he set you down gently. You were facing him, and for a split second, you nose touched his and you were looking straight into his icy orbs.

You looked away, pretending it didn't happen.

"Help me with the ribbons," you quipped. Bucky grabbed the box full of colorful decorations. "Okay," he replied. You weren't sure, but you could've sworn he sounded a little bit disappointed.

The rest of the afternoon was spent decorating the tree, and it was all fun and games until Bucky started humming 'Friday, I'm in love,' under his breath, a song that seems to be stuck in his head.

You and Bucky fell asleep on the couch after a Christmas movie marathon. You woke up in the same position you fell asleep: cuddled up against Bucky, you head on his shoulder and his human arm wrapped contently around your waist. You adjusted your eyes to the light coming in from the big glass windows, and tugged on Bucky's side, "wake up."

He groaned a little, his eyes blinking to life.

"Merry Christmas," you smiled, still leaning your head on his shoulder, too lazy to get up.

"Merry Christmas, doll," he replied, a sleepy but sincere smile on his face.

You mustered enough energy to look at the Christmas tree, and was shocked to see one small red box under the tree, decorated with a fittingly small green bow. It was empty the last time you saw it.

"Did you–" you turned to Bucky, who nodded right away, "How?" You asked curiously.

"I slipped it there before we started the movie," he admitted, a slightly rosy color on his cheeks.

"Is that for me?" You asked, and he nodded.

"I- I've got a present for you in my room," you told him, half-way panicked that you've forgotten his present in your quarters.

Rushing out of the common room, Bucky watched you as a sigh left his lips.

He found himself humming the song he heard yesterday again. He took the present from under the tree to give it to you first hand, then walked to the island kitchen to get some water. He doesn't remember all the words, except the ones at the very end of the chorus.

He mumbled a string of noises, but lightly sang the last part in his best singing voice, "Friday, I'm in love."

"I know," Friday said through the speakers. It surprised Bucky, but he didn't show it. Sitting down on the bar stool of the island, Bucky asked, "What?"

"I know you're in love, Sergeant Barnes," the AI said.

Bucky let a heavy breath out. Friday was right. He was in love. With you. "How did you know?"

"Your physical and hormonal body scans when you're around Miss (Y/n)."

Bucky only chuckled dryly. It was nothing he didn't already know, "Too bad she doesn't feel the same, huh?"

"Actually—" the AI started, but suddenly stopped when you rushed back in the room, a heavy box decorated with a patterned white wrapper in your arms. It was huge compared to the gift he got you. You put on the marble countertop and climbed on the stool next to his.

"Here," you said excitedly, "open it!"

Your excitement was contagious. He gave you a hearty laugh and ripped the wrapping paper. When he was finished, he realized what it was. A record player.

"Wow, (Y/n)," he said, twinkle in his eyes. He raised it so he could see it better, "I- thank you."

"You've been telling me about how you used to listen to music," you told him, "So I got you a more modern one."

"Your turn," Bucky said, giving you your present.

It wasn't wrapped, it was just a red box with a bow. You opened it and you looked to him for explanation.

It was a necklace with a dark silver star pendant.

"It's beautiful," you sighed, admiring the jewelry, "Thank you."

He gently took the necklace in his fingers, and looped it behind your neck, hooking it so now you were wearing it.

"I asked Shuri to make it from the scrap vibranium used to make my metal arm," he told you, a warm and loving smile on his mouth, "So you can have a piece of me with you."

Suddenly, you wondered if FRIDAY was right about you being in love with him.

"Ahem," said a human-like voice from the ceiling. It was FRIDAY, calling so you would look up.

The two of you saw a holographic mistletoe from the projector above you.

Damn, FRIDAY.

You smiled. It was a good excuse to kiss him, right? Wasn't that the rules of the mistletoe?

You reached up a little to press a short but sweet kiss on his lips, catching him off-guard.

"I-" Bucky turned beet red, "can you do that again please?"

Pleasantly surprised, you nod as you let him caress your cheeks, and pull you in for a longer kiss, his lips moving against yours in sync, like you were pieces of a puzzle. You melted into his arms and laid a hand on his thigh for support.

"I love you," Bucky said as he pulled away. Wait, he thought to himself, I love you?!

He meant to say merry christmas!

In his mind, you only kissed him because of his mistletoe. He was seconds away from apologizing, but then a content sigh left your lips, "I love you, too," you admitted shyly

He looked at you with a loving look that has always been there, yet you've only noticed it now. His thumb stroke your cheek softly, the contrast of metal and flesh strangely comforting.

"What is it?" You asked.

He cracked a smile. "My dad used to spend christmas morning with my ma," he said, "She told me one day I'd find someone to spend it, too."

"Would she have approved of me?" You asked, curiosity laced im you silky voice.

"I swear to god she'd love you," he cupped both your cheek and pressed a kiss on the tip of your nose, "Merry Christmas, doll."

"Merry Christmas, James."

You made an internal note to self to thank FRIDAY later.

-end.

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