#Never got around to finishing the comic this panel is in so I figured I’d just post it

[birdmenmanga]

One of the many things I really admire about you is how you DO things. You want to make a comic, you do it. You want to make an edit, you go and do it. You wanna do gifs, you figure out how to do it. You're constantly setting a goal and seeing it through and learning and growing as you go. And I admire that so so much because that's honestly not easy (at least it isn't for me). And I just wanted to let you know that

WOW I’ve never received an ask that made me pace around the room so much!! Thank you for telling me!! Forgive me for rambling in this response but I want to talk about the creation process a little bit— at least how I personally experience it.

Every project, no matter how large or small, is largely a fight between vision and pain. If my vision beats out my pain, I finish the project; if the pain becomes too unbearable, I hit the bricks (willingly or not).

Pain can mean a lot of things. It can mean frustration and dissatisfaction with your work in progress— a lack of technical skill that you can visibly see. It can mean the fear of ruining your vision by putting it down on paper. It can be the feeling that what you’re doing doesn’t matter. And in the context of this ask especially, it can be running headlong into wall after wall while learning how to use a new software.

I suck at learning new software. The learning curve for me is often so steep it feels untenable at times. Why can’t I do the simplest things? Why can’t anyone teach it to me in a way I can understand? I don’t even know if this YouTube video will teach me what I want to learn. And you’re saying I’ve got to watch 20 minutes of it to even see if it’s what I’m looking for?

I need you to know that for everything even remotely complete, even if it’s a work in progress, is built on a mountain of failures, of incomplete works, of past trials and tribulations. What I have of the music video for the SCP antimemetics division, built painstakingly in one of the most inaccessible and unfriendly video editing softwares, AVIUtl, dragged itself out of earthen trenches so that my music video for Pathologic could crawl pathetically. And that paved the way for the bits and pieces of the Kekkaishi music video, which walked so that the things I do for BIRDMEN could run.

I don’t think it’s really as simple as saying, “You want to make a comic, you do it.”

I think if I had never done any comics before in my life, I’d be so fucking frustrated with the process. But because I’ve been drawing comics since middle school, because I drew things and gave up and drew more things and gave up more, I was able to learn the language of comics by the time I entered high school, and by the time I entered college I had fought tooth and nail to learn how to use digital art softwares (I sulked a lot about this. I hated that everything I learned about making manga traditionally became essentially obsolete. I sulked soooo much about it it was unreal. don’t be like me).

That’s why I could finally, at that point, after almost 6 or 7 years of drawing, finally finish a 16-page oneshot for the first time in my life. Because I had hundreds and hundreds of pages of shitty pencil sketches of catgirls and schoolboys and what have yous. And knowing I could do that let me push myself further. I said to myself, I bet I could draw a story longer than 16 pages. I bet I could draw a story that’s 100. And I did. I had to sacrifice vision so I wouldn’t encounter so much pain, but I did it. And that’s why I think I can draw 600 pages now. Because it doesn’t hurt so much anymore, these days.

That’s not to say that drawing comics for me is an entirely painless process. It just means that the only thing I’m fighting is my self-esteem and perfectionism for the most part. I think my technical skills won’t fail me, not for panelling, not for compositions, not for art. It’s all about convincing myself that what I’m doing is worth it. Not the easiest, but certainly much less painful than having to fight that PLUS technical woes.

I think I understand what you’re going through, just a little bit. Maybe you don’t experience things exactly as I do, but I think you’re going through a lot of pain right now. That you have a vision, but you have trouble carrying out, whether it’s because of technical issues, unfamiliarity with the medium, a fear of beginning something you won’t end up finishing, or something else entirely. I don’t have too much sage advice for what to do here, but I want to assure you that what I do isn’t nearly as effortless as you might perceive it to be.

I want to take this chance and say to you that just from looking through your archives I can see that you’ve improved so so so much over the years. You draw often, you do lots of character design work, you’ve got a lovely and distinctive style. I know you mentioned one time that you wanted to draw a webcomic— and I say do it! Just dive into it.

The reason it took me so long to get to my level of competence in comics is because I had to reverse engineer a lot of shit. I used to draw things panel by panel, until I wanted a 2-page spread and realized, “Shit! I have to plan and pace out my story so that everything before the 2-page spread comes to a neat end on the left-hand page!” I used to freehand dialogue until I grew so frustrated with the fact that conversations seemed to constantly go off the rails that I realized, “Yikes, I gotta script this out beforehand...”

And so on and so forth. And maybe you’ll feel like you’ve wasted time and love on something that isn’t good, but just DOING things will teach you so, so much. It’s okay if what you make is bad. You can always start over, do it better this time.

This offer goes out to you, but really it goes out to any of my mutuals— if you ever want to talk about making stuff, whether it’s illustrations or writing or storyboarding, I’m always down. Whether you want technical advice or simple encouragement, feel free to reach out to me. I love seeing what other people are doing, and I know it’s really frustrating and scary to feel out a path by yourself when you feel like you don’t really know what you’re doing.

Art is so scary. It’s so painful. But even so, we can’t help but want to carry through with it, right?

#just thinking thoughts... #asks #confused-beany #waugh you changed your url!! #ohh... sorry for saying so much. but I've been thinking about this too lately. #chorus is actually very very painful to me. #from a technical standpoint it's not difficult. but I find it really hard to pick my pencil up sometimes. #even though I think it's so cool and awesome. #I'm just afraid other people won't feel the same you know? #on one hand: NOBODY can do it like me (hubristic) #on the other: nobody would want to do it like me (self-deprecating) #it's a hard knock life. but I'm holding your hand #if you want to talk btw. discord is the best place. dms are open!

[imnobodyuknow]

Sorry, I couldn’t resist.  ; )

(Epilepsy Warning Ahead)

So, after completing CrossCode: A New Home a few months ago (which I meant to do a review of, but didn’t get around to it, sadly), I was thoroughly delighted by the continuation of the game’s story and the extra challenges included in it, both story-related and optional.  That being said, I still think even Masahiro Sakurai would start crying after attempting some of those puzzles.

But putting all that to the side, I especially loved the fact that Lea and her “people,” shall we say, now had their own place to live, work, play, and (ahem) talk with one another.  Searching for the hidden treasure chests in it was also a fun challenge -- one that turned out to be pretty easy after some exploration, in fact, which is one of my favorite things to find in any adventure game.

There was one thing I found strange about Lea’s new house, however.  On the second floor is a big screen TV with a game console and stereo system (a gamer’s dream, in other words):

When you interact with the TV, you’ll discover that it only has one available setting, which I like to call “Super Rave Mode,” with music blaring from the speakers and color-changing lights flashing everywhere.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the reason for this could be.  Is that how the stereo system was designed, is that just how Lea likes it, or is it something else?  We’ll probably never know, but...I do have a theory.

It’s at least a possibility, wouldn’t you say?  You know someone’s a true friend when they take the opportunity to punk you every now and then.  X D

You’ll probably notice a few artistic flaws if you’ve studied drawing (if not, feel free to skip this part).  For one thing, Lea appears to be much taller than the TV in the first two panels, so the next three panels make no sense unless her legs suddenly got a lot shorter.  For another, her head seems a bit smaller in the third panel than in the others.  Proportions are still not my strong suit, apparently, but hey, at least I was able to notice it, right?

The miniature panel inside the fourth panel a little hard to notice, too, but it was still worth doing anyway, I think.  I always love it when comic artists get creative with their panels instead of making them the same every time, so I thought I’d try it out.

And strangely enough, those are all the flaws I can think of at the moment.  How about that?  X )  The tree in the sixth panel might have looked a little better if I hadn’t tried to draw its texture with the colored pencils, but...eh, why sweat the details?

Speaking of the sixth panel, you may notice one of my OCs hidden in it if you look closely enough.

He looks like a bubble with eyes, for reference.

There were a lot of details to figure out for this drawing (especially that last panel, which took me a few days to finish), but I had fun trying to get all of them right.  I used the above snapshot of the second floor of Lea’s house for the first five panels, while Lea herself was made after the picture of her found on the game’s pause screen:

Her facial expression in the first panel came from her “awed” sprite,

the one in the third panel is a variation on her “happy” sprite,

and the on in the fifth panel is based on her “annoyed” sprite (which I’ve only seen when she talks to a very loud Shad).

I also used the picture of her seen on the file menu during the epilogue as a reference for her profile in the fourth panel.

And of course, good old Emilie was made after her “grinning” sprite, with a few wrinkles added to her forehead.

I just have to say, nobody grins like that girl.  It’s not as adorable as Natsuki’s grin, maybe, but it’s still quite lovely.

And finally, the sixth panel was based on the area outside Lea’s house.  Duplicating it was a pretty fun (if time-consuming) challenge.

I have since reached that silver chest on her roof in case you’re wondering.  After a lot of exploring around, that is.

One more thing I should add: Much as I enjoyed drawing this and so many other things with pencils and paper, I’ve lately been considering making a transition to digital art from now on.  It’s not that I’ve stopped enjoying traditional drawing (in fact, I’ll probably continue making it to some degree), but I’ve started noticing of how much time can be saved by choosing digital drawing instead -- no smudges, easily undoing mistakes, easy rotation, zooming, etc., so...I’m beginning to think that may just be the better option for me.  That’s not a final decision, though, so I guess we’ll see how it plays out.  If I can’t decide, maybe I’ll let you all take a vote on it.  You’re my audience, after all, so you may as well have a say in it.  ; ) 

In any case, farewell for now and thank you for indulging in my love and appreciation for CrossCode.  Or as Lea would say, “Bye!  Thanks!”  She’s very good at being succinct like that.  X )

#cuphead #cuphead: the delicious last course #chef saltbaker #crosscode #emilie sophie de belmond #lea #whyyyyyyyy?

[shadydirt]

☕️&🍩

#they’re both wearing cardigans .. because it fall... #Never got around to finishing the comic this panel is in so I figured I’d just post it #mercury black #jaune arc #caduceus #rwby #rwby mercury #rwby jaune #rwby caduceus

[walviemort]

Fairy Godfather, part 3

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He’s been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: Another update! Thank you to @sancocnutclub​ for her continued encouragement...which will be very apparent in part 4 ;)

rated T / 2.4k words / part 1 / part 2 / AO3

Though he had just passed the first trimester mark in this oversized pregnancy, Killian was pleased to find he was not lacking in the energy department. Granted, his first pregnancy had been similar—he’d had the most energy during the second trimester, despite the increasing size of his belly.

But his belly was a fraction of the size back then. Now, at 13 weeks, it was much closer to the size he’d been at 35 weeks with Hope. But he had yet to slow down—as evidenced by his and Emma’s morning activities; he was even on top.

There was no denying his present form was bulky, but he’d been too fatigued at this size with Hope to do much but sleep and eat. That was not a problem now, and both he and Emma were reaping the benefits. Reaching orgasm while she was caressing his bump? It was impossible to describe how amazing that felt.

However, he’d hardly finished when Hope began to cry out from her nursery. As much as he was still feeling good, moving did take a bit more effort than it had. This bump also weighed as much as his last one, and was only going to get heavier; at least it hadn’t dropped yet. But it meant that Emma was still quicker to her feet than he was, and sprang up to retrieve their 13 month old before she tried to climb out of her crib on her own.

Hope finally figured out walking a month or so ago—just in time for her first birthday—and he was well aware of the comical sight he’d made at her party, chasing after her with his protruding stomach. But at least he still could, even if he got winded more quickly than he’d like. 

Tink had been snickering at him during one such moment. “Hey,” he chastised and patted the bump. “Your kid is in here, so I’d watch the mocking when it comes to running after mine.”

“That’s fair,” she’d conceded. “Just let me know when you need help, though—I’ll gladly go after the little hellion.”

“I’ll hold you to it.”

They hadn’t needed her help yet, but it was only a matter of time—especially by the sound of tiny but insistent footsteps that were getting faster every day as they ran down the hallway. 

“Dada!” her little voice called out as she charged into the room and threw herself against his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“How’s my little cygnet today?” he enthusiastically replied as he bent down to pick her up. He had to open his legs to make room for the bump, but it was still an achievable feat, and Hope giggled as she flew into the air and the curled in as he carefully tucked her into his side. 

After a brief cuddle, she squirmed for him to set her down on the mattress, and gave his bump a gentle pat. “Hi babies,” she said (or tried to; some of those sounds were still being worked on). She’d noticed the bump a few weeks ago, once it had really started popping out. They couldn’t tell if she actually understood what was going on—and were glad she was young enough to not have to explain it—but she was at least careful and affectionate. 

He just hoped that continued as she grew steadier on her feet—and he grew larger and less so. 

Hope tucked herself back into Killian’s side and Emma sat down on the other. “This is a pretty perfect morning,” she sighed as she laid her head in his bare shoulder. “Do I really have to go into work?”

“I’m of the same opinion—but wasn’t Tiger Lily coming for training today?” She was the fairy who’d offered to take over his deputy duties once he no longer could—and he had a hunch she'd be an acceptable long-term hire. 

“Yeah,” she complained. “Just wish it could wait another day.”

“Or,” he suggested, “we get through today and then we can spend tomorrow in a similar manner.”

“I like the way you think,” she replied, then pulled him in for a kiss. 

He set Hope down on the bed, where she proceeded to tackle the pillows, and went about the process of getting dressed. His sleep pants still fit, although they were reaching the point where they were almost too snug on his hips, which had definitely widened more than last time. 

Thankfully, his maternity jeans were as stretchy as ever, and he hadn’t yet exceeded their capacity; the elastic panel hugged his belly comfortably as he slipped them on. 

Emma had bought him a collection of soft, short-sleeved t-shirts a size larger than he typically wore, and one of those slipped on easily, but the bump still stood prominently under navy cotton. Hopefully, they made these in several larger sizes. 

They stopped at Granny’s before heading to their respective workplaces for the day, and Killian consumed a larger stack of pancakes than he’d like to admit; good thing Belle took his measurements yesterday. At least there was also a generous side of fresh fruit. 

When he and Hope arrived at the library, he was only semi-surprised to see Blue there; she seemed to be showing up once a month or so to check in, but today had another goal. 

“Would you be okay with getting an ultrasound?” she asked. 

That was shocking. “Sure,” he said, “but will it be okay for them?” he countered, rubbing his belly. Inside, they seemed to be fluttering nervously. 

“If it’s fine for a human baby, it should be for them. It’s just—I see all these thorough notes and comparisons, and I’m curious what that would reveal.”

“Whale says he has an opening,” Belle added, phone in hand. “Shall we?”

They did, and headed out en masse to make the short walk to the hospital. At least, it should have been short, but Hope insisted on walking on her own and Killian’s pace wasn’t as fast as it normally was. 

Whale met them in the waiting room when they arrived, though, an eager look on his face. “Wondered if I'd see you this time around,” he greeted. “I’ve gotta say—I’m pretty curious about this.”

“Aren’t we all,” Killian answered dryly, bracing his hook against his lower back. 

“Come on; let’s take a peek in there,” Whale beckoned, and led them to an exam room. 

Killian passed Hope off to Blue and began the process of climbing up on the exam table; again—he was doing fine on the energy front, but a large bump was a large bump, and it not only was an obstacle to his mobility, but he was carrying around some weight he hadn’t been 13 weeks ago (and in more places than just the bump).

But he managed to get up there and lifted up his shirt without prompting; he knew the drill. During his seemingly arduous climb, Whale had been looking over Belle’s notes from both pregnancies. “Damn,” he commented. “I think your notes are more detailed than my charts.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Killian called out; Whale just chuckled and moved to ready the ultrasound machine while Belle rolled her eyes and readied her pen. 

Killian had forgotten how cold the gel was, but he got over it quickly as Whale began to move the probe over his (thankfully stretch mark-free) stomach. 

“Well I’ve never seen that before,” Whale said after a bit, and everyone focused on the screen. 

“I thought those were only in black and white?” Belle asked. 

“They are,” Whale confirmed. 

And yet, as the tiny images of multiple babies appeared on the screen, each one was showing up in a different color—the color of the orbs they started as. Tink’s green stood out front and center, but as Whale moved the probe over the dome that was Killian’s abdomen, all the other colors showed up, except—

“Where’s mine?” Blue asked, understandably worried. 

“Hmm,” Whale hummed, investigating. “One, two,” he started counting, finding 8 that were easily visible. “But it looks like…” He pressed harder on Killian’s belly, to the point of discomfort, but he didn’t complain—not when Blue looked so worried. 

“Yeah, there’s definitely one hiding in there,” Whale said. “I just can’t zero in. There’s some color bleeding through, though…”

And in between a pink-hued and navy-hued fetus, a bit of bright blue was visible. Blue sighed in relief. “Yeah, she’s just being stubborn,” Whale assured her. “You can probably blame it on Hook.”

“Hey!” he protested, but Belle’s snicker suggested she agreed.

“Anyways—from a development standpoint, yeah, I’d put you right at 13 weeks, although probably half the size. Were it a normal pregnancy, I’d guess you’d only go to 30 weeks or so, for safety—but I’m guessing that won’t be the case here?”

“No,” Blue said. “He’ll go all the way to full term.”

Whale whistled. “Thank goodness they’re small then.”

Several copies of the sonogram were printed off—as mysteriously colorful as they were on screen—with Killian taking one, another going in Belle’s notebook, and the rest going with Blue. There was some discussion of doing another ultrasound at the second trimester, but it was ultimately deemed unnecessary.

Whale bid them adieu but they lingered in the room, if only because it took Killian a bit to clean off the gel (he hated the way it got caught in the bit of hair on his stomach). Belle was wrangling the kids, but Blue was staring at the pictures, almost in awe. 

“You were worried, weren’t you?” Killian asked softly. “That she wasn’t there.”

“Yes,” Blue admitted. “It’s rare, but sometimes, they don’t all take. And I’ve just—I’ve waited so long for this.”

“I understand.” It had taken him and Emma quite some time to conceive Hope, and obviously they required assistance. 

“I guess I’ll just have to be patient,” she sighed. 

“Aye,” he agreed. “But—” He placed his hand on the top of his bump and furrowed his brow in concentration. “I’m almost positive she’s kicking my bladder at the moment.”

It drew the polite chuckle he was going for, but also meant he needed to excuse himself. Blue also took that moment to take her leave, but not without an emphatic thank-you.

He had to admit, as he shuffled off to the bathroom—he’d definitely been resentful of this arrangement to an extent. But seeing Blue’s genuine emotions there at the prospect of parenthood made that feeling dissipate. 

He was sure he’d have a mountain of complaints by the end of this, but being able to grant so many others the joys he’d found as a parent—that would be worth it. 

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

At 16 weeks, he hit the same measurements he had when he was at full term with Hope (literally those of the day before he’d gone into labor). But the bump still sat high on his frame. “I wonder if whatever magic is preventing stretch marks is also holding it aloft,” he quipped as he traced the curve of his belly. 

“It’s entirely possible,” Belle concurred. “Look at the difference.” In addition to measured data, she also had photographic documentation of his various milestones in both pregnancies; comparing the picture she’d just taken on her phone to the one from right before Hope entered the world, it was plain to see the similarities in how much they extended in front of him, but the difference in where it sat on his body. 

“We’ll see how long it lasts, though.”

In answer to his theory, he got another few weeks before things began to sit lower, though his stomach continued it’s outward expansion—a couple centimeters every week. But by his 17th week, he finally started feeling the pull of gravity and had to dig out the belly band he’d relied on the last month or so with Hope. 

But he soon noticed another issue. While he remembered what it was like to not be able to see his feet, and had gotten used to the obstacle about his midsection, he wasn’t prepared for it to stick out even more. 

Case in point: one morning during his 18th week, when he was attempting to surprise Emma with breakfast (usually she rose first, but a flurry of activity in his belly had woken him early). However, he was a bit farther from the stove than he was used to, as well as the cabinets, and he kept knocking into the chairs around the table; Hope was watching him from her own high chair in amusement, far more interested in his slapstick endeavor than her cereal. 

“What’s going on?” Emma’s sleepy voice asked after he cursed at nearly burning his belly on the oven. 

“Nothing,” he huffed, rubbing the spot on his bump that was just a bit too warm. “Just a failed attempt at treating my amazing wife.”

She glanced around, then smiled. “You were trying to make me breakfast but then your belly got in the way?”

“Aye,” he sighed. 

She walked over to him and pulled him into a hug—from the side, since she already couldn’t get close enough from the front—and turned his face towards her to kiss him. “You’re too sweet,” she said, tucking herself into his side. “And you treated me plenty last night,” she added in a low voice; he swallowed at the memory of their shared moment—probably one of the last times he’d be able to make love on top for a while, unless they got creative with the logistics, but dammit, he did it, and it was amazing. 

“I can finish this up; take a seat, okay?”

“I should be able to do this, though,” he complained. 

“And you will—in 5 months or so. But I told you I’d support you with this, so let me.”

He sighed again, but complied, and ignored the creak of his chair as he sat down (angled away from the table—he was also up a size in shirts, but his jeans were holding on…for now). “How did the gods see fit to bless this poor bastard with such an amazing woman?” he asked, watching the blush rise on her cheeks. 

“The same way they did for this lost girl,” she countered, then put a (heaping) plate in front of him. 

“I love you so much, Swan—thank you.”

She placed another kiss on his lips. “I love you too—always.”

Even if this wasn’t an ideal situation, he knew that he was blessed to have Emma at his side; he wouldn’t be able to get through this without her. 

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thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez​ @jennjenn615​ @superadam54​ @ashley-knightingale​ @justsomewhump​ @teamhook​ @88infinity88​​ (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #FAIRY GODFATHER #My ff

[foone]

Unbreathing Vacuum

I got an ADHD inspiration to write a short DS9 fic off a shitpost about Star Trek-but-all-the-computers-run-windows-98, so I wrote a thing about Odo and the crew's reaction to his seeming death. (This was written for twitter, so it's gonna have some weird paragraph breaks, sorry about that)

Odo is tracking down a Bolian weapons dealer with as many morals as hair follicles when he finally corners him in a cargo bay. It goes south, quickly, as it turns out weapons dealers have access to a lot of weapons.

His Bajoran security officer is laying down suppressing fire as Odo sneaks around behind the Bolian who is trying out a wide variety of strange weapons, colored beams shooting across the room like we're in a deadly disco of death.

Odo reforms into a grumpy humanoid behind the blue man group reject, shedding his Andorian Ice Fox form that let him cross the sea of crates without detection. Odo grumbles "I think that's enough, don't you?" as the Bolian turns and screams.

The football shaped object in his hands that was beeping increasingly frantic pitches drops to the floor, and he dives for it. Odo looks down in surprise, then recognizes what it is, but it's slightly too late, as timers on Klingon grenades are not known for their accuracy.

There's a flash of light and pressure as it detonates, and the cargo bay wall cracks, and the one sound no one wants to hear in a space station begins: the high pitched hissing of air rapidly leaving.

Odo gets to his feet in that uncanny way he sometimes does when he forgets to move like a being who has bones. He simply transitions from a body on the floor to a standing vaguely humanoid form. The Bolian, being closer to the blast, appears dead, or at least soon to be so.

He turns to his security officer to tell her to go call Chief O'Brien, when the hissing wall suddenly groans with the sound of bending metal, and the wall gives way completely. An entire semi-rectangular wall panel is ejected into the black, taking Odo and the dead Bolian with it

The security officer, nearer to the door, slams the access panel and dives through the door before it can finish opening, and rips off a barely attached wall panel to yank on the manual bulkhead release.

The door slams shut with typical Cardassian efficiency, not caring or bothering to check if there might be a limb or two in the way. The hurricane wind of all the station's air trying to escape is suddenly ended, and deafening white noise gives way to the low hum of the station.

Moments later, the crew up in Ops are reacting to the news of Odo's death in almost comically predictable ways.

Kira, the career soldier, is angry. She's seen many friends die in front of her, and she never let herself become numb to it. She's swearing at Odo in ways that the universal translator is so good at eliding, saying she always told him he was taking too many risks.

Just because he won't mind when someone stabs him doesn't mean he's invulnerable, she told him, and he, as always, almost-smiled in the way he only seems to do around her and grumbled about how he'd be careful.

The young doctor is barely holding it together. Kira's lashing out but it's a controlled sort of anger, a way she keeps a handle on the pain of losing people. Bashir, the eternal optimist to Odo's eternal pessimist, doesn't really believe in death, a strange trait for a doctor.

O'Brien is focusing himself on technical issues to avoid having to think about the emotional ones. What kind of weapon could have taken out a reinforced cargo bay wall? Had it been damaged before and incorrect repaired? He makes a note to do a full check of structural integrity

Dax has seemingly no reaction, but that's almost to be expected. You have a different outlook on death when you've died before, multiple times. As a near-immortal you see many people and make many friends, and nearly all of them will die long before you.

You have to learn to accept it, or it will kill you by inches. One of the downsides of seemingly endless life is there's a lot of time to mourn.

The commander is definitely feeling the impact of the loss, especially having had far too much experience with this particular kind of loss before. He flashes back to that time he always, in some way, still resides in...

When an alien force shows up and starts carving your ship into digestible chunks, you quickly become intimately familiar with the effects of sudden decompression on the humanoid body. It's not pretty, it's not as fast as you'd hope, and it's something you never forget.

He maintains his composure, leaning on his command training, and asks Kira to make a list of security officers she'd suggest promoting to Chief of Security. He thinks for a moment, realizes Odo had no family, and says he'll send a note to Dr. Pol

He turns back to go into his office when there's a dull thudding noise, and a sort of faint tink-tink-tink caused by the flexing of glass that happens with even the thickest of reinforced viewport.

He looks around in confusion, and Dax suddenly points at one of the high-up viewports. Floating outside the window, looking only slightly more annoyed than his resting "I hate life" face, is Odo.

It feels like something outside of a horror movie, a ghost floating silently outside a second story window, because humanoids don't just happily move around in the harsh void of space without needing a suit or a forcefield to keep them breathing.

But Odo isn't like most humanoids, after all. He's not a humanoid, for one. He's more a confounding self-propelled pile of goo that sometimes feels like pretending to be a humanoid shape.

This is made more obvious by the fact that he's only half there. His lower half is not legs, but a shimmering stretch of undifferentiated shapeshifter material, in order to hold onto an access handle tightly enough to give him the leverage to knock on a window.

Seeing he's got the attention of the crew, he pulls his hands from the window and starts attempting to sign to them. Kira's the only one with any experience in Bajoran sign language, and the best she can make out is something like "he broke his... Weasel? Columns him... Boat?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes, like only a shapeshifter really can. The sigh is silent of course, but if anyone could grumble in disappointment in the vacuum of space, it would be Odo.

His hands blur together as he shapeshifts them into a new form: a small flat panel, with Bajoran lettering in a large block font, perhaps a little too blocky as his aggravation is coming across even in typographical form.

COMBADGE DAMAGED BEAM ME ABOARD

Dax and O'Brien quickly confer, taking a painfully long moment to figure out how to lock onto something that is neither wearing a working combadge or reads as a life sign. Finally they figure out how to get a lock, and engage the transporter.

The grumpy-looking chief of security rematerializes on the Ops transporter pad, adjusting his "uniform" in an entirely unnecessarily maneuver he long ago picked up in his study of humanoids. He's naked, after all, he just looks like he's wearing clothes.

"Thank you for bringing me in", he grumbles, not saying the "finally" everyone can clearly hear in his tone. "It turns out that you can't open airlocks from the outside, so I wasn't able to come in the obvious way."

O'Brien, still slightly surprised by the sudden reappearance of his "dead" coworker, falls back on technical details as always. "That's a safety system we installed. The airlocks won't open unless they detect a ship is docked."

Kira chimes in with "Yeah, the Cardassians didn't have that restriction, as they wanted the freedom to just toss Bajorans out the airlocks when they felt like it." Odo responds with his usual grunt, a dismissive "pah, you solids and your weaknesses and your squabbles" noise.

Sisko replies "Regardless, it's good to see you alive and well, Odo."

Odo half-nods. "Commander, if you'll excuse me, I have reports to file and a safety lockout to implement. As tempting a prospect as it might seem, I wouldn't want Quark to end up to be sucked out the station's new orifice when he comes looking for his shipment of Yarmok sauce."

O'Brien jumps in with his typical urgency, half-covering up the feeling of "I should have fixed that already, damn" that he's seemingly always feeling around here. "I'll send a repair team down there right away."

Odo doesn't turn as he walks to the lift. "That would be appreciated, Chief. I'd rather not have to walk along the outside of the station again today." he says, punctuating it by activating the lift and descending out of view.

Sisko rubs his forehead. This is a strange place indeed, and despite all the headaches it gives him on a daily basis, he's beginning to feel almost at home in this remote alien place.

This place is strange, the people are strange, the situation is strange... But they're his strange.

Maybe someday they'll stop surprising him. But he doubts it, and he isn't sure he would want them to.

He sits down at his desk and pulls up another of the day's reports, thankful he doesn't need to write that letter to Doctor Mora Pol, for more than one reason.

It's never easy losing someone under your command, and writing that letter to their next-of-kin never gets easier either. But it's a good day when you don't have to do either.

#star trek deep space nine #ds9 #odo #star trek #fanfic

[bigskydreaming]

Tom is already rehashing some things, like too many homages to the nineties run, Zucco's daughter plot point, Beatrice had ideas for societal reform he's taking that and giving it to Dick. It'll probably be half hearted, but it stings that Beatrice left just a few issues ago and she's already completely forgotten for the sake of DickBabs or a love triangle.

Like the thing about the nineties runs is I mean, as much flack as we give various elements of them, there’s so much from that time period that was good? Great, even! Just....myself and the writers seem to have very different opinions on what the most interesting elements of the nineties comics were, oh well.

And omgggggg I’m still so mad about Bea, and its literally Shawn Tsang all over again. The writers keep introducing new, interesting characters, investing just enough time and focus into them to have us interested in them and wanting to see more.....and then they toss them aside to go back to drawing from the same well as always.

And the thing is, this isn’t even about me not really being a Dick/Babs shipper, because honestly, I’m not enjoying the Dick/Kory stuff in what I’ve seen of Titans Academy either, and for the exact same reason:

When they create new characters like Shawn and Bea, they KNOW they’re starting from scratch and need to build interest in those characters from the ground up. So they’re forced to put their best foot forward. There’s no short cut there, if you want people to care about a brand new character you have to give them REASONS to care. You have to make those characters likable, you have to make people WANT to root for them, you have to hook them with intriguing backstories that don’t feel formulaic and new angles that don’t feel just derivative of older characters, and that’s how we got stuff like Shawn’s history as a former sidekick to a villain and now running a support group for rogues trying to turn their lives around, and Bea’s work in societal reform.

But then the second they stop having the patience to build the new characters up enough that the interest in them can actually start to reach the levels that lets older characters last and grants longevity....they just toss them aside and move on....except they never really move on, just backwards. Because the problem with so MANY superhero couples, far from just Dick and Babs or Dick and Kory, is just....how lazy it seems to make so many canon writers. They just fall back on rehashing the same old tropes and just updating popular moments that resonated with fans in the past, now just recreated with a slightly more modern twist but without ever really being anything new. 

Even with ships that I’ve never really been sold on in the past like Dick/Babs, I’ve always said, there’s usually nothing stopping me from GAINING interest in them.....its just....the writers have to GIVE ME A REASON TO. And so many of DC’s writers just aren’t even trying. They’re just moving parts around and pushing characters together in various arrangements like everyone’s just a puzzle piece that you can mix and match however you want......and then just basically expecting readers to be interested purely because of who the characters are, or because it hinges on a nice moment that they then milk the hell out of without ever expanding that into building actual STORY around these moments but rather just squeezing each one til they get everything they possibly can out of it and moving on to the next as though its all just about chasing the next soundbite...because it is! LOL.

And honestly, this problem extends far beyond just the Nightwing title or the Batfam or Taylor’s run or writing in particular.....its a company wide issue right now. In fact I would bet just about anything that its a matter of editorial edict, that even before Taylor started his run DC said okay here’s the approach we want everyone taking with their stories right now:

And that’s like.....its all about banking on nostalgia and the comfort of the familiar right now. I think Taylor is drawing all these elements straight from the 90s Nightwing comics, like Blockbuster and Dick having been a cop, etc, because these are the elements of past Nightwing stories that are so well known. Its the same reasoning behind why they put Tim back as Robin and so many of their new characters are just new spins on old faves like Punchline and Harley Quinn, and why they’re pushing all these older ships that haven’t been together in ages and why specific team lineups are reappearing....its because nostalgia is the name of the game for DC right now, and all their writers are just pulling together threads of classic stories that have stood the test of time, figuring anything that landed particularly well with fans in the past will sell with people here and now, and weaving these threads together and brushing over them with a modern social issues veneer. 

As an approach, its basically all just about repackaging previously successful story moments and elements with just enough changes or in just new enough a configuration that readers aren’t likely to complain en masse that like “hey we literally already read all this. We’ve already BOUGHT these issues. When we were kids.” Its minimizing creative risk while maximizing monetary profit. Spend as little creative capital as possible outside of anything that’s already been successful in the past and as such is a relatively proven quantity, instead of testing new material that’s an unknown and runs the risk of falling flat and thus not being profitable.

And see, I’d almost guarantee that all THAT, that whole line-wide approach to DC’s storytelling, is because the powers that be looked at the last several years of stories and how many of THEM fell flat with readers, and decided that the problem was they’d BEEN trying too much new stuff and readers just didn’t like it. Because they WERE concentrating on presenting totally new stories and building up new ideas throughout their books.....but readers have been pretty vocal for years now about being disenchanted with most of DC’s major stories. And so DC I think looked at that and came to the conclusion that okay, people just don’t want new right now, they want the familiar.

But like.....DC’s problem IMO was never that they were trying new stuff? The reason so much of their new and original storylines weren’t gaining traction or bringing in readers and kept shedding old readers had absolutely NOTHING to do with them being new and previously unseen storylines, which makes falling back on nostalgia very much a non-solution to entirely the wrong problem.

No, DC’s problem for years has been that they’ve been all about spectacle instead of story. There’s ZERO emotional pay-off to any of their biggest plot twists or character beats, and emotion is LITERALLY what people read stories for. Its all about racing to the climactic action packed finish of every storyline and then immediately resetting everyone back to square one and jumping straight into the next big story, without ever giving the events of any of their stories time or reason to MATTER to the characters.....and if they don’t matter to the characters, our proxies that we’re viewing these stories through, then why should any of it matter to us? Why should any of it linger, dig in roots, resonate with us as moments that left an impact and that we accordingly want more of?

And again, like because I’m a Dick Grayson focused blog I’ve obviously largely been focused on how much I dislike the SPECIFIC reactions or non-reactions to so many of the major beats in his stories.....but it was spread throughout their entire line.

Bruce and Selina almost got married....but why should anyone care outside of Tom King’s title when nobody else seems to, no other characters feel anything about this, and Bruce in none of his other appearances seems the same as ever without any reminder that he just almost got married but then didn’t.....and if the characters don’t ever seem to be affected by or feeling a need to revisit or reflect on recent stories, why should we bother remembering them either? 

Jason was dramatically and fucked-upily (yes its a word, I totally looked it up and everything) exiled from Gotham....and then all of that is undone in a single issue with one low-stakes awkward conversation between him and Bruce. Damian quits as Robin and goes off the map and everyone in his family is like “hey don’t we have a littler brother, I feel like we did maybe” for one panel per story arc, and that’s it. Roy’s back from the dead and everybody’s like oh hey cool instead of the kind of return we used to get like when Donna came back and everyone was like oh shit, this MATTERS, because we MISSED you....just like Dick’s death never mattered to anyone but fans of his character because much like I was just saying earlier with them not really giving me a reason TO emotionally invest in Dick and Babs’ relationship if I wasn’t already, same thing with the aftermath of Forever Evil. They didn’t give anyone else reason to emotionally invest in that as something that HAPPENED to Dick and that he was AFFECTED by....because the writers didn’t bother writing him as all that affected by it and it was just like oh he’s a spy now, all that was last year’s content, we’ve moved on, keep up.

And on and on it goes. Ric Grayson was the same problem all over again. Rinse and repeat down the line with everyone from Wally to Donna and etc etc etc.

THAT’S why DC’s stories have been falling flat. It has nothing to do with people not being interested in new ideas, characters or directions, its that’s ALL they were giving us, but it was like just reading wiki summaries of events just alongside pretty art, but no real emotional weight or substance to anything we were reading....and thus, literally nothing that we couldn’t get much the same outcome from if we just...stuck to reading wiki summaries after the stories were over, with no real need to follow along with them. For years most fans have basically just been about keeping up to date with changes in the characters’ lives, but without feeling any real need to watch those changes unfold and play out.

And so honestly I worry we’re just gonna be subjected to a company wide rehashing of old and familiar storylines, directions and character beats, but repackaged and delivered in the exact same way DC was delivering us their new stories and ideas these past years....and its basically going to have the same results, because its the same problem. They didn’t actually fix anything by switching gears, they just shuffled around the actual issue.

And DC’s just gonna be like well now wtf are we doing wrong, we were so sure this would work, everyone LOVES nostalgia right? Did we pick the wrong stories and character beats to bring back?

When really its like......it honestly doesn’t matter WHICH stories and beats they rehash, because its not about them picking the ‘right ones,’ the real keepers, the stories that everyone really WAS eager to see brought back or made new again.....

Its about like, the only reason any of those stories or beats or dynamics stood the test of time and are still familiar and well-known....is because the stories AROUND those moments and ideas gave us reason to emotionally invest in them and retain them as crucial to our view of the characters and things that would resonate and stay with us for a long time.

It was never that any of those ideas or stories were just so innately brilliant that they couldn’t help BUT linger in the overall reader consciousness...it was the fact that we CARED about what happened in those moments and stories.

*Shrugs* But I mean hey, what do I know? I’m just a dude on the internet lolol. 

[ectonurites]

I admire you for managing to make it through the New 52 Teen Titans like I have started the first New 52 run at least 4 times with the intent to actually make it through but then stopped in the middle either because I got so mad about how their characters were butchered or I just literally couldn't take the writing anymore. (It's usually around the Bar Torr stuff, that's usually where I tap out) so I've never even finished Vol 4 let alone Vol 5 so uhh yeah kudos to you for sticking through it.

it was a WILD RIDE I can tell you that. like... its just not good. It's not a good comic, and it's not like a 'oh hold on it'll get better' situation because it just doesn't.

The main reason that I went into it was because I wanted to understand New 52 Kon and what his deal was because skimming wikis was just not giving me enough of an answer on his deal and I wanted to know wtf was going on. And the New 52 Superboy book and Teen Titans Vol. 4 are just like, incredibly linked, they have a lot of stuff crossing between them (especially around the Bar Torr stuff when the Kon & Jon switch happens) so I figured fuck it lets push through all of this.

And then my second motivation was also to know and understand the context of that New 52 tim/kon scene with the begging him not to go stuff, because I was just. Curious. And that's like halfway through Vol. 5 so by that point it was like well, guess I just gotta finish it now bc there's not THAT much left.

I read all of them (so Superboy Vol. 6, Teen Titans Vol. 4 & 5, and most of the events they tied into [i skipped a few because i'd just already read them separately tho]) over like... 5 days? Less than a week for sure, because I just binge read when I get going on something even if its not good. Feels like a fever dream.

I liveblogged it in some of my friends' dms which made it funnier at least bc I could just laugh at what a mess it all was as I went and send funny panels.

#i would not recommend these books. however i do think they are incredibly funny bc of how bad they are sometimes

[makeste]

not a cavalcade of Katsuki panels

damn, anon. you stone cold came for me with that last part. and just fyi to all onlookers, this was before I had posted the headcanons ask proving this exact point lmao.

but a challenge has been issued now! so I will do my best to pick a variety of impartial panels featuring a veritable medley of characters. not sure I can really provide much in the way of insightful analysis of symbolism and metaphors and stuff, but I can certainly type a lot of words about the pretty pictures, and about how cool people look when they’re standing around all serious surrounded by clouds of billowing smoke.

why I like it: I figured we’d start off strong. no point in holding back. can the other panels possibly even hope to compete. maybe. we’ll see.

why I like it: because, you see, he punched a giant robot, and it exploded. you see that, there? and the text was all “SMAASH” in humongous comic book letters, and it was pretty cool. also Deku is very tiny and the robot is very big. and just to clarify, most of the time if a tiny fifteen-year-old child tries to punch an 80-foot robot, it’s not actually going to go all that well, and the robot probably will not explode. but in this case it did! and so this is a very novel and unexpected outcome, which makes it all the more visually striking, which is a very good thing to be when you are trying to show off the brand new superpower which your protagonist just inherited, and letting people see it in action for the very first time.

why I like it: so you may have noticed we just skipped a whoooole bunch of chapters lol. this is because there are almost 300 of them, and so I’m going to have to use a bit of discretion. anyway so this is a gorgeous panel. just, everything about it. the lighting; the expressions; Shouto’s hesitation; and his mom facing away, not looking back yet, and us not yet knowing how she’ll react. and the fact that they’re visually separated by as much distance as possible -- at opposite ends of a two-page spread -- and yet they’re so close, closer than they’ve been in years. mm. anyway it’s pretty.

why I like it: first of all because there’s nothing like seeing a deserving character get punched in the fucking face, and few characters IMO have been as deserving as Stain. and second because this is Deku, showing up to save the day out of nowhere at the last minute, because excuse you, but he’s a motherfuckin’ hero. sorry to interrupt your evening plans of stabbing a kid while lecturing him about why, philosophically, he deserves to die. but I’ve got a package here for a Mister Stain. it’s from Mister Smaassh, with two A’s and three S’s.

why I like it: fyi, anon said nothing about a cavalcade of BakuDeku panels. you didn’t think I’d let that loophole go to waste, did you? but nonetheless I will try to restrain myself until we get to the second ground beta fight. anyway, I like this panel because All Might’s canonically 7′2″ self looks about twelve feet tall here, and he is just TOWERING over these two boys, who’ve been tasked with somehow outwitting him during this curiously sadistic final exam. and it’s just an interesting perspective, because we know they both look up to him, and here they are physically looking way, way up, up, up at him.

why I like it: now this is how you do a villain entrance. I love absolutely everything about this. the sheer scale of destruction, and the way he’s just sort of casually hanging out there in the middle of the panel almost dwarfed by all this dust and smoke and carnage, and yet is unquestionably the focus of the page. the way that you can’t actually see his face, not yet. not until the end of the chapter. the way the clouds are drifting so calmly and peacefully in the night sky in stark contrast to the horrific events that are about to take place on the ground. this panel gives me literal chills, especially when I think about All for One’s creepy theme music playing in the background.

why I like it: this panel is so iconic to me that it’s one of the first ones I immediately knew I had to go and find when I got this ask. this entire fight is perfection from start to finish, and there are other panels that are more artistically striking if I’m being honest (in particular, the ones where he’s half-transformed with his face perfectly split down the middle between Muscle Might and Skinny Steve). but there’s just something about his determination in this panel, though. something about the fire in his eyes, and the way he clenches his fist. “my heart is still the heart of the Symbol of Peace.” I remember being sooooo fucking anxious when his true form was revealed, wondering if this was it, if the people watching were going to turn on him, if he was going to lose both the fight and their faith. turns out I was wrong on both accounts. basically what I am trying to tell you guys is that this panel was and is still the most badass thing I’ve ever seen.

why I like it: because he’s just a frail old man doing what he can to protect the last flickering embers of the thing that enables him to fight on. there’s something so fucking desperate and yet so determined about this image. he knows it’s futile, but still he persists.

why I like it: damn it was hard to find a “you’re next” panel with just the right angle I like best. this is probably as close as it gets, but I kind of wish Deku was somehow visible in this image as well. but at any rate this is an amazing moment, and All Might is dramatic af for basically no reason but IT’S BADASS. “no I’m not going to actually look where I’m pointing. it’s cooler this way.” or was it because he wasn’t sure if he could keep the emotion off of his face if he actually turned and looked? in this moment of knowing that it was finally over for him, that he would never be the Symbol again, and knowing that he had no choice but to move on and entrust that burden to the next generation? damn.

why I like it: I... fucking... okay, here’s a fun fact. did you know that I still get emotional over this panel almost a full two years after reading it?? obviously a good 84% of it is the context -- All Might losing his power; Deku being forced to take up the mantle before he feels ready; All Might feeling responsible for him; and both of them being so desperately grateful to have each other in that moment. but don’t underestimate that remaining 16% either though! this is just an extremely well-drawn hug, on top of everything else. All Might pressing Deku’s head to his shoulder with his fingers laced in his hair is some mighty fine fiercely protective hug tropes there, you guys. and the way Deku is clinging to his shirt so tightly his knuckles have probably gone white?? while he cries?? while both of them cry? ON THE BEACH? WITH THE WAVES LAPPING SOFTLY AT THE SHORE IN THE PEACEFUL NIGHT AIR?? jesus fucking christ. this hug contains more emotions than I am capable of carrying inside me at once. I just sort of have to let them flow in and out little by little until they finally subside.

why I like it: you bet I skipped right from Kamino straight to Deku VS Kacchan Part 2. no regrets. anyway, so these two panels are an absolutely gorgeous one-two punch. so much has changed from the days when they were innocent little kids marching off into the woods to have adventures. they’ve changed. their relationship has changed. and yet, at the end of the day, Izuku is still willing to follow Katsuki even without being given any kind of explanation. and Katsuki still seeks out Izuku when he’s on the verge of having a spectacular emotional breakdown. because he doesn’t know who else to turn to. and because despite everything, there is trust there still, on some deep, fundamental level neither of them fully understands or knows how to acknowledge. anyway, so these two panels just give me a ton of feels all about the passage of time and how everything changes and how you can’t get back what’s lost, but also sometimes if you look deep enough you find that parts of it were never fully gone.

why I like it: because in a striking display of dramatic main character energy, these boys decided to stage their life-changing destiny-affirming rival fight on the coolest possible stage in the middle of the goddamn night. and then Katsuki made it even better by producing WAY MORE SMOKE than his attack by all rights should have produced! and then they went and crouched down all symmetrically so as to more poetically make intense eye contact at each other. I really like panels with smoke and/or dust clearing dramatically. there are like four more of them coming up on this list. what can I say. it’s cinematic.

why I like it: I actually had this one as my icon for a while. it’s rare imo to see an action panel that’s so balanced and has so much going on and is so clean and easy to read. both of their poses are so dynamic. I like the way the arc of Izuku’s kick is drawn, and I love the way you can clearly see that Katsuki propelled himself backwards with his quirk in order to dodge it. it’s just a really cool little panel that for me perfectly sums up the general feel of this fight, and its awesome choreography.

why I like it: actually you know what, before I go any further, let me skip ahead a bit and add three more panels with this same energy.

I just really, really love these rare moments when all differences between them are momentarily forgotten and they’re just two teenage boys caught up in the intense pressure of an awkward social situation. the one enemy neither of them is the least bit equipped to handle. anyways Horikoshi clearly enjoys it too because he seems to delight in drawing it over and over and over.

why I like it: because it’s more billowing smoke and dust. because it’s Endeavor, the guy we all swore we would never ever root for, and then 160 chapters later Horikoshi pulls this shit without an ounce of shame. because it’s All Might’s pose, but tweaked juuuuuust enough so that Enji can avoid copyright claims. because he knew that pose well enough to know which arm not to use. because Endeavor is a profoundly flawed human being, wholly incapable of filling the void All Might left behind. and yet he still tries. because it’s better than nothing, and because it’s all he can do. it’s the one thing he can do, his sole redeeming virtue. he tries. he doesn’t give up. anyway so yeah, Horikoshi didn’t have to take the single most unlikable person in the entire manga and give him the world’s most controversial and openly scorned redemption arc. but he did! and I think it’s one of the best things about this entire manga.

why I like it: because nothing in BnHA is just black and white!! it’s messy and layered and complex, just like in the real world. Shouto despised his dad for almost his entire life. with good reason! Enji was abusive and selfish and treated his son more like a prized possession than a person. we as readers are fully aware of all of this, and we sympathize with Shouto 100%, and that’s completely by design. Horikoshi is well aware of this. so for him to still give us this little moment, where Shouto is so relieved that Enji survived that he drops to the floor and presses his face against his hands in this little prayer gesture -- whatever you think it might mean -- is just so fucking powerful, and again speaks to his commitment to refusing to let anything in this series be completely clear-cut and unambiguous. I love that the characterization of Shouto and Natsu hating their dad exists side by side with the equally authentic characterization of them being terrified that they’re about to watch him die. because those two things aren’t contradictory! sometimes that’s just how it is. anyway so this is a beautiful moment of nuance that instantly adds so much to this relationship with just a single panel.

why I like it: for once the symbolism is so obvious that even I can’t fail to miss it! Izuku’s face half in light and half in shadow as he thinks about the power bestowed on him. “All for One’s power.” anyway so in my mind Izuku having AFO could not be any more fucking foreshadowed if he was wearing a freaking t-shirt with the Musketeers saying on it and the background was peppered with little Sistine Chapel-esque images of AFO giving his quirk to his brother lmao. but regardless of how it does end up playing out, this is nicely done.

why I like it: I wasn’t sure whether I should include this image, given that I just made a whole separate post about it a few days ago. but I just really like it, okay. this is one of the all-time great entrances in the series. Bakugou being perched on that pole for absolutely no reason other than to add visual interest. Todoroki’s hair blowing dramatically in the wind. Katsuki’s frayed pant hems and characteristically asymmetrical facial expression. the fact that you just know both of them spent the ride home with their faces pressed to the windows of their taxi cab hoping desperately for an opportunity to break in their brand new licenses, and then lo and behold. that’s amazing you guys. it’s almost like you’re main characters or something.

why I like it: they did great.

why I like it: because I lost my fucking shit at this fucking reveal and can you even blame me?? we knew coming in how much trouble Endeavor and Hawks had dealing with just one of these Noumus, and then Horikoshi goes and divulges that the villains have at least A DOZEN MORE waiting on standby. including Hood right there in the foreground, which is a fantastic touch! this panel, for me, almost instantaneously established the League as a legitimate threat once again, and gave me the kind of spine-tingly evil vibes I hadn’t felt since the Kamino arc. and while the payoff might not quite have lived up to my expectations, the Mirko fight at least was more than worth it.

why I like it: BILLOWING SMOKE AND DUST CLOUDS. you just see this vast landscape of destruction that Tomura has oh-so-casually wrought, and this once-powerful enemy utterly defeated on his hands and knees bowing before him. and it’s just like, oh. Tomura just became a fucking king, didn’t he. he finally stepped up and became the main villain. really the main villain, not just an awkward fumbling NEET whose adopted dad is not-so-secretly pulling all the strings. he did this himself. he went out and conquered and Awakened and won himself a fucking army. and he’s just standing there so cool and casual in the aftermath of it all. and then he goes “oh wait, you guys have money right, that means you can buy us the good sushi.” yes, Tomura. yes.

why I like it: um because this panel is fucking amazing?? hello?? do I really need to explain this one. the detail is jaw-dropping. he’s got the little scars which are either from the head wound that caused his death, or from his Noumufication. his expression is fucking heartbreaking, and the transition from Kumo to Kuro is so subtle and seamless, and yet it distinctly is both of them. this panel is gorgeous and fucking haunting and almost made me gasp when I first saw it.

why I like it: the decision to have the night sky take up so much of the space in the panel was [chef kiss]. nothing says existential like the night sky on a cold winter’s night.

why I like it: this is the best panel in the entire fucking series.

why I like it: dude. showing his actual family holding onto him with their hands in the same spot as the severed fashion!hands was a stroke of genius in and of itself. but combining that with the emotional tension of them desperately trying to hold him back and protect him from AFO?? that’s just so fucking smooth it’s almost inhuman. just how much meaning can you cram into a single image?? sometimes I wonder just how far in advance Horikoshi plans these things.

why I like it: guess I’m just a big fat sucker for panels of Tomura calmly standing around in the ruins of his own senseless destruction. the sense of scale on this one is really great, too. and yet again, those dust clouds. gotta love it.

why I like it: because Tomura literally appears out of nowhere, like he’s ripping a hole through the fabric of time and space. it’s so fucking sudden and he looks evil as FUCK, and Deku and Kacchan are totally caught off-guard, and it is scary. this is one of those panels that made me say “holy shit” out loud. in fact I practically screamed it. and the angles are all funky and weird, and the sky is all BLACK FOR NO REASON, and it really just feels like Tomura could reach right over and just MURDER THEM like it was nothing. just like that. this panel is so incredibly effective at conveying how hopelessly outclassed the boys are. they’re not even in his league, and it’s honestly terrifying.

and on that happy note, we have come to the end of my list of favorite panels! and I gotta say, it’s really gratifying that a good deal of them are from this year alone. I said it in another post a few days ago, but imo the overall quality of the series has been insanely high as of late, and it honestly just blows my mind whenever I stop to think about it. the art is still this good six years into the game. the story is still this good. we are spoiled goddammit.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #all might #endeavor #todoroki shouto #shigaraki tomura #horikoshi kouhei #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #asks #anon asks

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero

I guess I should provide my hottt takes on the new DBS movie.  A few days ago, they did this video for Comic Con announcing the title of the movie and teasing some details about the story.  

I gotta say, this is exactly why I’ve never had any interest in Comic Con.    They put this on YouTube, I guess because of the pandemic, but any other year they would have gathered an enormous crowd and made them stand in line for hours to watch all of this in person.   I live in the Midwest, and when I went to comic book conventions it was for the sole purpose of rummaging through back issue bins.   SDCC was always promoted like the biggest and most important convention in the U.S., but all I ever heard about it were trailers for movies and TV shows.   Or, like, you had to go to Comic Con because that was the only way to get an exclusive Orange Lantern Hal Jordan action figure or something.   They would always hype up all of this useless stuff and I just never heard of anything so important that I was willing to fly out to San Diego and stand in line for three hours for it.   So now SDCC peels back the curtain with this video, about something I’m fairly interested in, but it’s really not that big a deal.  I found out most of the information on Twitter before I even knew to watch this video.

But I’m just not that hyped about trailers or sneak peaks or sneak peaks at trailers.   Which is probably why I waited this long to talk about it.  

I’ll just go through the video.   The first four minutes are Hironobu Kageyama performing “Cha La HEAD Cha La” live on the stage.   That’s a pretty epic way to open this, but I feel like it oversells the importance of this event.  You finish watching him and you think you’re about to see the movie itself, instead of hearing from the people who made it.  

Next we have Sascha, the host of this panel.   He speaks better English than I do, but I’m not sure what the point was in having any of this in English since he has to talk to the guests in Japanese.   Pretty much all of the important information in this video is in Japanese, and I think everyone understood that going in.   I guess it does give an international feel.  If I spoke another language as fluently as Sascha, I’d want to show it off too.

4:56 is where Masako Nozawa comes out, and she’s just a joy to watch.   She looks like this sweet grandmotherly figure, all warm smiles and then she busts out “Ossu! Ora Goku!” and immediately sounds like a badass. 

Guest #2 is Akio Iyoku, Toriyama’s editor.   Not to be confused with the awesome editor who poo-pooed all the androids and Cell’s semiperfect form.    That was Yu Kondo.  Iyoku comes out dressed like Goku, but he can’t talk like him so he’s immediately second-tier. 

Guest #3 is Norohiro Hayashida, Producer from Toei Anaimation.   He is also rocking the Goku cosplay, which would be a faux pas in most fandoms, but he can just say that he’s cosplaying as Krillin or Yamcha, which gives him greater nerd credibility because those are more obscure references.

Around 8:30 we really start getting into this, and they show us a model sheet of Piccolo.  Is Piccolo being in the new movie a big surprise?   He had a dry spell in the mid-90s, but he’s been in every Dragon Ball movie made in this century so far.   And it’s not like they changed his look, like when they put Goku and Vegeta in those adorable coats last time.   I’m not complaining about any of this.  It’s nice to see that a) Piccolo is confirmed for new movie and b) they didn’t tinker with his appearance.  

All I’m saying is that they only brought up this model sheet to show off how they’re using his color scheme from the manga as opposed to the anime.   Hence the red belt and the yellower arm sections.   In the anime, the belt was always blue, and his biceps were hot pink instead of off-yellow.   But it’s such a subtle thing that even Sascha didn’t pick up on it.   It’s like they were hyping up the fact that it’s such a minor change.    I like it, don’t get me wrong, but it’s a weird flex.   Also, he looks like he still has his five-fingered anime hands, so I’m not that impressed.   Give us four fingers, Toei!

Sascha asks Masako Nozawa what she thinks about Piccolo and she just starts off with “He was Gohan’s teacher,” and talks about how strong and cool he looks.    She speaks of him like he’s a family member, because she’s awesome.

Next up, we have Pan, and now we’re talking.  The scuttlebutt is that this was the character Toriyama was referring to when he spoke of an “unexpected character”.  And I guess Pan fits the bill, since I don’t think anyone expected her to be this old in the movie.   I understand this is her kindergarten uniform, so she’d have to be about five or six years old.  I love Masako Nozawa’s reaction here.   Throughout this video, you can see that Goku and Gohan aren’t just roles to her.   

I’ll put on my fanboy hat here and point out that Pan’s age may imply that this movie takes place after the final episode of Dragon Ball Z.    She looks older here than she did when she fought Wild Tiger, at any rate.   So far, the entire Dragon Ball Super franchise has been set during the ten-year gap between the Buu crisis and the finale of Z.    So everyone has been wondering if DBS would move beyond End of Z, or whether Akira Toriyama even still recognizes the continuity of those final chapters.   They were supposed to be ten years of peace, but all the battles in DBS say otherwise.   Also, I’m pretty sure Pan and Bulla’s ages in the DBZ finale don’t line up well with their appearances in Super, but I’ve never studied it very closely.  

So this might be set post End of Z, or this might be Toriyama retconning End of Z altogether.  I’m interested to see which way this goes. 

Here’s Krillin, still working for the police, although his uniform looks more like Bronze Age Lex Luthor than anything else. Like Piccolo, the “big” story here is that he’s been tweaked to resemble the coloring in the manga, so his sclera are now white instead of fleshtoned.  

Never mind that, here’s Piccolo’s house.  This is probably the breakout star of this video, because I think everybody is excited to see Piccolo’s house.   Because it’s new lore!  No one even knew if he had one or not.   It was a running gag in DBZ Abridged that he was homeless.   I mean, congratulations to Krillin for getting his eyes colored in right, but that doesn’t tell me anything new about the character.  But Piccolo’s house is a big friggin’ deal.   What’s inside of there?  What’s on the second floor?   Check out his mailbox.   What kind of mail does he get?  It’s exciting.  

Nozawa even points out that she and her co-workers would talk about this sort of thing in the recording studio.    That’s a big deal to me, that the voice actors think about the same kind of stuff that I do as a fan.   

Around 15:30, they start talking about Toriyama’s commitment to the making of this movie, which seems like a weird thing to focus on, because he wrote the screenplay to the last two movies.   Did anyone think he was stepping back? I get the impression that there’s still some hard feelings about the failure of Dragon Ball Evolution, in the sense that they want to reassure everyone that we’re still in good hands.   I suppose one of these days, Toriyama won’t be as heavily involved in a project like this, so maybe it makes sense for Toei and Shueisha to make it clear that today is not that day.

On the other hand, Toriyama was just as involved with Broly as he was with Resurrection F, and Broly was a much better film.  The Dragon Ball Super manga seems to have revived the old argument over who’s to blame when the story is a letdown, and I think that misses the point.  Look, the Zamasu arc sucked, and I don’t care who wrote what parts, or whether Toriyama had a bad idea or whether he handed a good idea off that was badly executed.   They can hash that out behind the scenes if they want to.  

About 19 minutes in, they show us this model sheet, and refuse to explain who these guys are or what they’re doing in the movie.   Are they villains?  Who knows?  I’d like to think they’re important characters to the story, but I have my doubts that Krillin will have a big part to play.  

At 20 minutes, they announce the title of the movie, and I’m not very thrilled with “Dragon Ball Super: Super Hero.” They can talk it up as much as they want, and maybe the title is relevant to the plot, but it’s just too many uses of the word “super”.   Especially when they’ve got another series called “Super Dragon Ball Heroes” on YouTube. 

Then we get this teaser trailer, or whatever you want to call it, with a CG Goku hopping around and doing his classic fighting pose.  Now, for some reason, lots of people concluded that this means the entire movie will be done in this CG style, which has led to a debate over whether or not that’s a good thing.  If they can make the whole movie look this slick, then I’m fine with it.  Hell, I’m not picky.   They could animate the whole thing in Yukio Ebisawa style, and I’d be thrilled. 

But I’m not understanding where people got the idea that it’s definitely going to be a 100% CGI movie.   They never spell that out in this video, and they even go out of their way to admit that this shot of Goku isn’t actually from the movie.   So is there some other source people are referring to, or did everyone just jump to conclusions?  

And that’s pretty much it.   I don’t mean to sound negative on this panel, but I don’t feel like they revealed very much, unless this is actually going to turn out to be Piccolo and Pan having an adventure by themselves.    I think Toei could make a movie like that and it would be a success, but I have my doubts that they’d go in that direction.  If this is going to turn out to be another big slugfest with Vegeta, then I’m down for that too, but don’t show me Piccolo’s house if the movie’s going to be about Vegeta punching a guy. 

Bottom line: I’m still looking forward to this, but I don’t feel like I know much more about the movie than I did before.   Well, except for the part about Piccolo’s house.  I’m looking forward to seeing the inside of it.

#dragon ball #dragon ball super super heroes #piccolo #pan #krillin #goku

[mcrmadness]

Madness draws: Behind the Scenes of the “Alleine in der Nacht” die ärzte fan comic.

A few weeks ago I posted this comic:

This post is yet again just another drawing behind-the-scenes post but You can go and reblog the original post here.

And as always, all my ramblings are under the cut!

This one was relatively easy to do because I just woke up one morning and internally died from laughter because this idea just happened like a random pop up window in my brain. I wrote it down to my phone notes and later on also into my sketchbook:

I was laughing out loud when I was drawing those images, Bela’s face still is cracking me up :D And because I’m yet again trilingual with my comics, there’s only one word in my mother tongue and it’s: Bela laulaa = Bela sings.

And other fans might recognize the lyrics of the song, I needed to write them down in order to decide which ones would fit the comic the best.

This one is then again me trying to see how it will fit on a A4 paper. Originally I saw it in my head more like a short, regular comic strip with 3 panels but somehow I couldn’t get it to fit into 3 panels. And 4 panels was too many in a row so I decided to go for a full page then. That caused bits of trouble to me because I normally don’t draw the comic book faces THAT big and it’s surprisingly hard to draw them in bigger scale. (With pencil drawings it’s the opposite, the bigger the better. It’s much easier to draw an eye the size of a finger instead of a size of a tip of a needle.)

Here’s the first sketch! Just the shapes to see how and what I need to draw. Sorry for the awful photo quality again, my phone’s camera has really gotten really bad after these 3 years of use...

Anyhow, the third panel caused me some troubles because I knew how I wanted Bela’s arms and hands to be but I didn’t see them that good in my head so what I did next was to try different postures into my sketchbook:

I also tried this foreshortening technique I saw in a video of after a Tumblr post, even tho I don’t find that too hard to do myself anymore but it was still interesting and can really help making the eye and brain to see the image in 3D. So here I finally figured that I wanted Bela to have is arms like he was singing something very theatrically. I think it turned out pretty good.

Next I struggled with the bedsheets and I figured that I am a bit too good at blocking out information when I draw because I tried to draw unmade beds from reference photos and I’m able to follow a line but also able to completely not see any other lines around the line I’m following. Like I’d often follow a line to somewhere and suddenly notice that wtf there’s SO MUCH MORE lines all over the place in the photo but I just did not see them.

^Here’s two pages in my other sketchbook that I got for the comic stuff especially because the paper is actually white. The bigger sketchbook has light yellow tint to the paper so it can mess up with the colors when I need to try out and look for perfect colors from the colored pencils. (This sketchbook is also smaller aka A5 because Derwent sketchbooks are expensive but this was the only A5 one with a bit grainy paper in white. The A4 one is cheaper and from Mont Marte.)

After a while I was done with the besheet and the rest of the second sketch. I don’t have a photo of the comic with just the lineart, only a photo where the first panel is already colored and now I actually need to talk about the coloring.

That caused me lots of trouble because I really love playing with lights and shadows in everything (drawing, photographing... everything) and I do know how to do the night effect in black and white, but I have only once before done that with colors and it’s never that easy. Plus that one was my first comic when I started drawing again in 2018 and it was not that good to begin with.

I run some tests with the pencils, as well as some shading tests:

Käsi = hand, iho = skin. I use Derwent Flesh Pink (I have a 72 set of Derwent Watercolour pencils) for the skin color and was then trying out other colors to see which one would look the best for shading. It was actually really difficult to do and my sister suggested that I’d use only cold colors but like... how do you use cold colors on a skin without making the character look dead? :D

I imagined that there’s a moon shining in from a window that would be behind the “camera”. I almost ruined the first panel because I wasn’t exactly sure what was I even doing and what did I want from the colors:

Here’s the lineart and almost finished first panel in colors. I really liked the lineart and this would have looked so nice in black and white too, maybe even better. But I just saw that blue background so strongly in my mind that I just had to go for it.

The first panel was really difficult to do like I said and I almost ruined it at some point. But it also taught me something because with the rest of the panels I knew to start with the skincolors and end with the black (I started the first panel with black, I think... kids, never do that, always start with the light colors! :D) and I think the last panel is the best what comes to the colors in the final comic. I also added light blue here and there to make it look more like the colors of a moon at night:

I’m actually very happy with all of the other colors in this panel! It also reminds me of a book I had and used to read as a child. It was about this girl that went to an appendix surgery and all the images were drawn with either colored pencils, pastels or crayons and it looked grainy the exact same way as this one too. It also had lots of red and orange and brown colors in it. (I wonder if I still have the book here...)

Then there’s also the title and “Das Ende”. Originally I was going to do the late 80s logo they have e.g. on the 80s live vhs/dvd but then I just saw another post in my dä blog’s queue and I just needed to do this logo instead!

I had just a couple of weeks prior ordered a pack of white Sakura Gelly Roll pens and needed to test what would make the best compination and with which black!

I also had bought a white paint pen but it’s useless. As you see, it just looks grey after it dries and it just... doesn’t look nice. Plus it takes so much time to dry AND it’s extremely messy and I have paint more in my hands and a puddle on the paper but barely none where it should be. So my choice for the logo was to use either Pigma Microns or Promarkers (I think I chose the latter) and the thickest Gelly Roll aka 10. This was the result:

And I’m actually super happy about how it came out! Couldn’t do that good looking spots on the letters because can’t make splashes with a gel pen so I did a few bigger ones here and there and then just poked everywhere with the pen to make it look more random. You can actually see how it’s slightly whiter than the paper if you look closely, but it’s not too strongly whiter so it looks pretty nice like this.

So, this was less work than the “Widumihei” one but it was also an interesting piece to draw. And I think I have now this comic drawing more freshly in mind so that drawing the next ones (there’s three waiting for sketching already) will be much easier as well :)

#here take the last behind the scenes post then #I mean next ones are going to be actual new drawings because now I'm done with these I had in mind #mcrmadness draws #mcrmadness draws: behind the scenes #my comics #dä fanart #die ärzte

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #12- Gay Rights: the Movie

Finally finished with our franchise obligations! Let’s get back to the main story.

Those are some ominous ellipses. Almost like something bad is going to happen!

Let’s take a look at Cover A for this issue.

When this was released to the general public, alongside the synopsis that stated the Lost Lighters were going to run into a group of Decepticons, a lot of people thought we’d be seeing them meet the Scavengers. This isn’t the case, and that’s not Fulcrum. It’s some other K-Con, one that has purple in his color scheme.

Our story opens up with a narrative framing device:

Welcome to “Before & After”, one of the more ambitious issues of MTMTE in terms of storytelling. Roberts really likes bouncing between scenes and POVs, and he’s really indulging that here.

Rodimus and crew have loaded up on one of the Lost Light’s scouting ships to check in on a planet called Temptoria. Whirl’s leading all the guys in the front in a war cry that wouldn’t be out of place in Hollywood’s version of the Vietnam war, while Brawn demonstrates how to not properly handle a gun. Rodimus tries to explain what exactly they’ll be doing, but no one’s listening, feeding off of the chaotic energy. The back seat isn’t quite as rowdy.

Oh, Ambulon’s here? That’s got to be awkward. And Perceptor’s looking mighty cross about having to pick up a gun again. Isn’t he supposed to be retired from being a science sniper?

Rodimus finally gets everyone to settle down long enough to explain the situation, though not without a little jargon mixup.

Basically, Ultra Magnus went down to Temptoria while the “Shadowplay” story was being told, and found out that the organic populace had been enslaved by a group of Decepticons, and, more importantly, the sovereign agreement that the planet had with Cybertron’s been violated. Also, these guys might have been the one’s who kidnapped the Circle of Light. You remember those guys, right? The guys who were supposed to be in the 2012 Annual, but they weren’t, and Drift got really mad about it.

Rodimus wraps up the briefing with a “’Til all are one!” And we cut over to see what Swerve and Tailgate are up to. Tailgate seems to be a little nervous, not the type to enjoy waiting, but Swerve seems to be doing just fine. Why is that, exactly?

Even if Rung’s still a steamed side dish of a vegetable, he’s still here, in a way. And good on Swerve for not assuming Tailgate can visualize in the same way he can. Aphantasia is more common than one might think.

Escapism is an interesting way of dealing with your problems, but I don’t know enough about wartime psychiatry to know if this is something that would actually be considered a viable solution or not.

Oh, now that I’ve said it, I’ve got the research itch.

Later, later.

Anyway, Tailgate gives it a spin, and his happy place is surprisingly domestic for such a seasoned professional.

Pipes, it’s a clear glass, it’s not hiding anything from you.

Speaking of Pipes, he’s seated next to Hound, as they discuss what happened to Red Alert. Or, rather, the cover story that’s been fed to the rest of the crew by Rodimus, which is that the engine room pretty much attacked him. This is how ghost stories get started.

Trailcutter’s gotten some guns installed in his legs, because he’s a hypocrite.

Over with Chromedome and Rewind, there’s trouble in paradise, as they’re having a lovers’ spat. Chromedome’s giving Rewind the silent treatment, and Rewind’s having none of it. What exactly are they fighting about? We don’t get to know about that yet, but it’s digging up other issues, like Chromedome going back on his promise to stop injecting. The only thing keeping this from becoming a total meltdown is Whirl can-canning through the door to kidnap Rewind, so he can film Whirl getting in the zone before the fight. Whirl’s having a great time. This is probably the first time they’ve gotten to fight something since the Lost Light took off, and he’s all about it.

Rewind’s dragged away, and Chromedome just lets it happen, because he’s feeling cross. It’s good to take a moment to cool off, but I’m not quite sure this was the best time or way for it to happen.

Meanwhile, on the Temptorian surface, Blip the Decepticon, who is likely the dirtiest son of a gun we’ve run into so far, is asked to take a look at the monitor by a guy who sounds exactly like Megatron. It doesn’t particularly matter which Megatron, because comics are not an audio-based medium, so you can pick whichever one you like best. What’s on the monitor does not please Blip in the slightest.

I feel like maybe having guys who don’t turn into flying machines jump out of the bottom of the shuttlecraft isn’t the greatest tactical thinking, but I’m sure everything will be okay. Brawn’s got a gun, maybe he’ll figure out how to rocket-jump before he hits terminal velocity.

Then the narrative jumps to after the fight, as the ship flies away from the scene, and Chromedome isn’t happy. It’s for a different reason than earlier, though.

Man, Pipes just can’t win, can he?

Ambulon remembers that he is, in fact, a medical professional, and starts working on Rewind, while Chromedome tries to ask Swerve just what the hell happened. Swerve’s having his own issues, however.

I’d nearly forgotten they had skeletons.

On the production side of this issue, we’ve got two artists: there’s our usual guy, Alex Milne on the “Before” sections, and Brandon Cahill on the “After”. Cahill’s other Transformers work includes The Transformers (2009) and the sister series to MTMTE, Robots in Disguise. Outside of the franchise, he’s worked on several Marvel pieces, including writing Sable & Fortune and Legion of Monsters. Unlike a lot of the alternate artists we’ve seen for the series, Cahill won’t be a one-and-done; we’ll see his art again in Dark Cybertron, Season 2 of MTMTE, and even Lost Light.

Getting back to the story, we’ve jumped back to the point in the battle where everyone’s hit the ground and are just wailing on each other. Tailgate and Swerve watch the chaos unfold, as Ultra Magnus more or less takes on a platoon of Decepticons.

Drift’s having a great time, as he Naruto runs through the enemy, slashing as he goes with a big ol’ smile on his face. He stabs a guy in the back of the head who was trying to grapple with Rodimus, thus interrupting the little dialogue they had going on. Rodimus is vaguely upset that his moment was cut short.

In the “After”, the shuttle’s landed back on the Lost Light, and Chromedome rushes out with Rewind in his arms to find First Aid with a motorized stretcher. He was hoping for Ratchet- he wants only the best for his shnookums. As they run Rewind down to the medibay, Chromedome starts listing off his allergies- which include ultraviolet light, something we know reveals mnemosurgery scars. This is a holdover from a dropped plot point I’ll cover at a later time; as it stands in the canon narrative, Rewind’s just got an allergy to the friggin’ sun.

Back at the shuttle, Tailgate starts dragging Cyclonus down the gangplank. Oh, hell. You know it’s a bad situation when the guy who literally couldn’t die for six million years is out of commission.

Spoke and Lockstock are a bit of a gag- they always manage to get their asses kicked, but everyone on the ship really likes them. They will never be seen on-panel, and have no character designs.

Over in the medibay, history is being made.

Esteemed members of the jury, I present to you: canon gay robots. The first in a long line of them. This is the starting point of the queer community being handed the Transformers franchise on a silver platter.

Up to this point, Roberts hadn’t gotten any further than implied attraction and affection between robots, in either his fanworks or professional credits. Pretty heavy-handed implication in some cases-

-but implication nonetheless. Here is the first, honest-to-god direct confirmation of two male-coded robots in love.

In love and space-married and recognized by the authority in power, in a comic written in 2012, as a part of a major franchise owned by a massive American company, three years before same-sex marriage would be legalized on a federal level.

As part of the story, it’s great. Within the context of the time during which it was published, it’s a whole other level. This wasn’t just good writing, it was important.

Let me part the kimono a little here, with some personal backstory- I grew up in Buttfuck Nowhere, NC, and went to a high school that was so homogeneous, they were threatening to bus students in after I graduated. I didn’t know what a gay person even was until I was 12. “Lesbian” was used as an insult, and it was one I was subjected to because I had cut my hair short in middle school and wore cargo shorts on occasion. It was something I really pushed against, because that’s how a lot of people react to being forcibly given a label.

Not the best environment for a little queer kid, clearly.

It wasn’t until well after I’d gone to college that I really started understanding who I was. Hell, I’m still figuring some things out, but at least I’m getting somewhere.

I remember reading this for the first time in 2015- yes, I got into the comics sort of late- and then having to reread it. I needed a moment just to process what had happened. As a person who had only recently come to terms with their sexuality at the time, it was kind of mind-blowing to have that sort of representation, especially since I was also watching Transformers Prime at around the same time. Talk about the duality of man, am I right?

These days, there’s a lot more representation in many different forms of media. Things are getting better. Which, y’know, yay! I’m glad. I just can’t help but wonder if things would have been a little different if this sort of representation had been available earlier on.

Anyway, so yes, Chromedome’s got a difficult choice to make for Rewind- either let his body try to sort itself out, or let First Aid break out the clamps and try to jumpstart him. Rewind’s got a relatively rare spark type, but luckily Chromedome’s the same type. Looks like everything’s coming up roses for our boys!

Tailgate and Cyclonus aren’t getting nearly as good a break.

My god, he’s filled with grape soda!

Back in the “Before”, things are getting a little silly.

Chromedome, what POSSIBLE tactical advantage could you be gaining from riding the giant, fire-breathing robot dinosaur? This is why they threw you in Kimia, isn’t it? Because you’re a dumbass.

While this bullshit is happening, Rewind and Tailgate are stacked on top of each other to look through a window, because I guess that’s just how things turn out when the resident couple on the ship is upset with one another. Rewind’s found something, but it isn’t the Circle of Light. Rather, it seems the Decepticons are dabbling in Pink Alchemy- a rather inefficient process that allows organic creatures to be turned into energon for consumption.

The good guy thing to do would be to save all the organics, but there’s a bit of a problem- the door is wired to a massive bomb. Good thing Tailgate was in Bomb Disposal, and is just generally an impressive and well-established dude. He gets to work.

Getting back to a point I made during Chaos Theory, Whirl can’t make a fist. Punching himself in the face is probably more akin to slashing it.

Tailgate’s got a weird approach to bombs, taking the time to teach Rewind how to do it, by way of student-led learning. They decide to poke a hole in the bottom of the bomb to drain all the explosive fluid out, which Tailgate does with little robot tears streaming down his face. Fear is a great motivator.

Oof, not a “Domey” in sight. That’s how you know things are rough.

Outside of this little scene, Whirl and Cyclonus are handling Decepticons. Whirl’s got a hold on that guy who’s voiced by Frank Welker, and we get a nice shot of his sad cat face before Whirl turns his head into a memory.

Swerve- who is also here- asks Whirl to loan him a gun.

GODDAMMIT SWERVE.

Not a single one of you bastards know proper gun safety! Between all the severe depression and reckless weapon-handling, I genuinely have no idea how the hell are any of you are still alive.

In the “After”, Chromedome’s just finished jumpstarting Rewind, and it’ll take a bit to see if it worked, so he’s left alone with his thoughts.

Just kidding, Tailgate’s come over to check in. Seems like Cyclonus is gonna pull through, something Chromedome’s not terribly thrilled about. Chromedome’s still miffed about the whole Kimia thing.

We finally learn why Chromedome and Rewind were fighting; it was because Rewind, as a walking historical database, has been deemed too important to die, and can opt out of any fight he choose to, but he doesn’t, thereby putting himself in harm’s way unnecessarily. Maybe he just worries about you when you go out there on the battlefield alone, Chromedome, you ever think of that? Maybe he doesn’t want to wonder when his husband will return home from the war.

Tailgate asks about all the little vials that are scattered around Rewind’s hospital bed, and we get a little Cybertronian tradition thrown at us.

The vials are filled with innermost energon, the stuff that surrounds the spark casing and never changes, no matter how much you modify or upgrade your body. Leaving a little of the stuff for someone in an offering signifies that you care very much for that person. Chromedome can’t give Rewind any, because he was “born dry”, but I think being space-married to the guy more than makes up for it.

Tailgate asks how the two of them met, and unlike in issue #6, Chromedome is feeling vulnerable enough to indulge the question this time.

But first we need to establish that Chromedome is insanely insecure.

So, Rewind is fucking old. He’s older than the Cybertronian civil war, he’s older than the calendar system, and he’s old enough to have been affected by Functionist society’s categorization system. Due to being a memory stick- something that there were millions of back in the day- Ratioism dictated that Rewind as an individual was worth very little, and made him and his like into slaves. Because he was a slave, he needed a master, and that master was none other than Dominus Ambus, also known as Cybertron’s Mech of the Year for 40,000 consecutive years.

Even on Cybertron, there’s a weird stigma about breastfeeding.

Rewind and Dominus quickly became friends, because that’s just the sort of guy Rewind is, and it made Dominus realize that maybe these slaves Cybertron had been working to death were sentient creatures worthy of respect too. He even developed a test to prove that all the slave classes were on the same level of functionality as everyone else.

On their quest to find a cure for the horrible disease Cybercrosis, Rewind and Dominus fucked off into space, on a wild goose chase to try and find Luna 1, the Cybertronian moon that just disappeared one day. Weird, that. They didn’t find it, and by the time they’d come back home, the war was well underway. They immediately became Autobots, and that was it for a while.

Then we move on to how Chromedome and Rewind met, and boy is it a doozy.

Chromedome had decided he wanted to kill himself, so he moseyed on over to the nearest relinquishment clinic- they did assisted suicides instead of body-swaps at this point- to do the deed. He was sitting in the waiting room, when he heard someone screaming. He wandered into the back to find Rewind weeping over a coffin, and he thought to himself “Maybe I don’t need to die after all” as he offered his future conjunx a shoulder to cry on.

What a fucking dark start to a relationship.

Rewind wasn’t upset about anyone who was dead though, but rather missing- Dominus had disappeared into thin air months ago, and Rewind was getting desperate to find him, looking in more and more awful places in the hope of recovering what he’d lost.

As it turns out, he’s still doing that. The reason the two of them are on the Lost Light is because Rewind needs to find Dominus- alive or dead, it doesn’t seem to particularly matter at this point. That’s why he buys snuff films in dark alleys.

See, Tailgate gets it.

Guys, bad news.

Chromedome’s spark is too weak to jumpstart Rewind. Unless they find another compatible donor, Rewind’s gonna be in big trouble. There’s nothing to do but wait.

Later, in their room, Chromedome is sitting on the floor and very much not following doctor’s orders to get some sleep. Someone on the opposite side of the door he’s leaning up against starts talking to him. Chromedome doesn’t seem to want to hear any of it, until he does.

Given who the basement dweller is, this probably won’t turn out so hot.

Chromedome gets a call from the medibay, and fortunately the universe has decided to play nice this go around, because someone came forward as a match.

But it’s not like Whirl cares about anyone, right? Not in the slightest, nuh-uh, not him!

While Chromedome gives Whirl what is probably an uncomfortably long hug, and they both most likely ignore the fact that Chromedome would be actively suicidal without Rewind, Tailgate’s off in the corner, having taken his hand off and begun pouring cartoon toxic waste into a vial. It’s actually his innermost energon. Boy’s making an offering, but it isn’t to Rewind.

It’s to this ungrateful fuck.

Cyclonus stalks away from Tailgate’s kindness, until he’s stopped by witnessing the power of love.

Everyone likes Rewind, and these displays of affection seems to have reminded Cyclonus that he’s horrifically lonely. Feeling some remorse over his actions- not that he’ll ever admit it out loud- he goes back to help Tailgate pick up the pieces of the vial he broke.

Wrapping up our story, we go back to the “Before”, right before the bomb is set to go off. Whirl and Cyclonus have more or less taken care of the Decepticons, Whirl suggests they set aside their differences and agree to stop trying to murder each other, in a surprising show of reason and, perhaps, self-preservation. Cyclonus doesn’t seem to agree with the idea.

I genuinely think that’s the most he’s said all series up to this point.

Rewind calls the two idiots over for help, because Tailgate’s about to pull a self-sacrifice to get this bomb emptied, and he just isn’t listening to reason. Cyclonus assists.

Once Tailgate’s been fastball-specialed out of the room, Whirl decides to get back to being a bastard, and locks Cyclonus and Rewind in with the bomb with 10 seconds left on the clock. Ah, so the donation was out of guilt, I see. Still a form of caring, in its own way.

With no way to escape, all Cyclonus can do is attempt to shield Rewind with his body as the bomb goes off.

That’s the end of the issue but it’s the middle of the story, and despite what Cyclonus says, dynamics are changing. Slowly, but surely, things are shifting. He’s headed for a lot of character development, and he’ll be kicking and screaming the whole way.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #issue 12 #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #comic script writing

[secretcircuit]

march manga reading list

i did a post abt my ongoing/future reading list but only included novels/nonfiction, not manga! so i want to also note what i am currently reading + want to read :) under the cut!

ongoing/caught up - witch hat atelier!!!!! (also known as tongari boushi no atorie, hence my tag “tbna” if youve seen that and wondered what it was about.) I LOVE WITCH HAT ATELIER. it has some of the most stunning art i have ever seen in all my life and the character writing is incredible. highly recommend. if you like fascinating fantasy worldbuilding, excellent art, and characters (many of whom exude Gender) ... i recommend giving it a read! i first read it bc of a wonderful meta post abt disability themes in the series and it has since overtaken my life in the best way. anyway!!!!! thats it

currently reading

death note (im like 20 chapters in?) -- reading because it is a COMEDY. god it is so fucking funny. there’s no way it was meant to be. but like. the (accidental?) comic timing of the paneling is just too good. i’d never actually read it before this and didn’t know who L was vs Light lmao. all i knew was the cool apple demon. anyway

jujutsu kaisen -- started it because i love some good shounen hijinks. i cannot resist shounen hijinks! actually, im kind of lying. the reason i started it was i saw a post describing gojo as having a “high on bath salts personality” and that cinched it for me

a silent voice -- i am trying to re-learn how to read basic japanese, so i figured it would be good practice to read slice-of-life manga written for kids (the furigana helps me so much lmao). honestly, it’s been great practice. i found a site called bilingual manga, which allows you to toggle between japanese + the eng translations, so i can try and see how much i can comprehend and then see how much i got. i’ve also learned a bunch of new words just by reading, so it’s nice to strengthen my vocabulary that way too. i can’t really comment on the story too much because im reading so slowly that im only on chapter one!

planning to (re/)read

2021 is the year of Fullmetal Alchemist (it’s its 20th anniversary which is bonkers) so i am planning to do a reread. i started earlier in the year but then got distracted by other stuff. still, i’m hoping to do a complete reread! i haven’t read the full series since it first finished publication back in 2010, and i never finished watching brotherhood either, so i’m excited to reread.

dungeon meshi -- i’ve started it! but i started it right around the time i read witch hat (all in one day lol) & didn’t get very far because i spent the next week rereading witch hat lololol. BUT. i am really excited to read it! i should honestly make it take precedence over jjk in the reading list but... here we are. anyway!

mushishi -- i loveeeeee mushishi. i’ve read and watched it sporadically throughout the years, but i want to read the manga start to end. it’s really gorgeous and atmospheric and i, a lover of odd bugs/creatures, love the world of mushi so much. plus i gotta continue my Year of the One-Eyed White Haired Anime Man* (* i know witch hat is not an anime. but it rolls off the tongue)

anyway, i don’t know how regularly i’ll keep up with updating these things, but i like to track my reading progress/habits and i don’t always update stuff on goodreads for various reasons. thank you for reading if you read this far!!!!!

#katertalks #kt reads

[blessed-but-distressed]

#FindEmmaSwanAFriend

Feeling left behind by her more successful, settled friends, Emma Swan moves to Scotland on a whim. Sure, she’s winning at Instagram, but something is still missing from her new life. Fortunately, her friends back home are on it. #FindEmmaSwanAFriend goes viral. Enter Killian Jones, reluctant columnist, who is on the hunt for his newest subject, and may just have found her. CS AU

***

also on ff.net and ao3

***

Tagging: @katie-dub , @wholockgal , @kat2609 , @whovianlunatic, @optomisticgirl, @ladyciaramiggles, @the-lady-of-misthaven, @emmaswanchoosesyou, @ilovemesomekillianjones, @biancaros3, @cigarettes-and-scotch-whisky, @ms-babs-gordon  @ab-normality, @andiirivera, @fangirl-till-it-hurts, @onceuponaprincessworld , @natascha-remi-ronin, @kiwistreetswan and whoever else asks me.

***

A/N: Part 1 of 2. We’ll get there when we get there.

***

Emma

 It had been building for weeks. Months, really. 

It began with a series of fences up on the Castle Esplanade, robbing the selfie-stick set of their outlook towards Arthur’s Seat. Before long it became a full-blown construction site, scaffolds looming up on either side of the tarmac like a bad omen. 

Then came the anti-terrorist bollards on the Mile, at once ugly and terrifying in their design. By the time the placards went up at the tail end of July, you could feel it in the air, like an encroaching thunderstorm.

August.

For as long as she’d lived in Edinburgh, Emma had heard the war stories. 

A bloody nightmare, was how Killian had once phrased it. Imagine, if you will,  if every insufferable wanker in London with even the slightest dramatic inclination took it upon himself-

Or herself, Tink had interrupted.

Or herself, he’d amended, with a roll of his eyes, to decamp 400 miles up the East Coast line, en masse. And not just for a weekend, either. An entire month. And then imagine they proceed to spend that time putting on dodgy comedy shows, getting pissed as newts, and trying to get off with each other.

Don’t forget the inflated prices, Will had cut in.

The traffic, Tink lamented.

Hipsters with posh accents taking up all the seats in your local, Will added mournfully.

The flyers, Killian sighed. At that, the other two groaned.

So it’s busy? Emma had asked.

Aye, Swan, Killian had replied, a weary glint in his eye. It’s busy.

 ***

It wasn’t that she didn’t believe them, exactly. She’d seen the crowds at Christmastime, swelling up around the markets in Princes Street Gardens. She’d stared the drunken aftermath of Hogmanay in the face, and lived to tell the tale. She knew busy.

The Festival was, well… most days it wasn’t unlike navigating the Battle of Thermopylae. Every major thoroughfare, every centrally located eatery turned into a desperate crush of bodies, all attempting to coexist in too little available space. And there on the periphery the thespians lay in wait, ready to exploit any signs of weakness.

The first few days, she took every flyer on offer. It was the polite thing to do. But as her bag, and the crowds swelled, she was forced to reassess. By week’s end Emma learned to do as the locals did, keeping her head down, headphones in, and her hands stuffed in her pockets at all times.

So when August, the man, promised Emma he could sneak her into the green room at the Book Festival, she took her chance to escape the rabble.

Compared with the madness up on the Mile, the Book Festival in Charlotte’s Square was an oasis of calm. The crowd skewed older, and it showed. They sat drinking up the sun in plastic lawn chairs, whiling away the hours until the next panel or signing with the unhurried air of the newly retired. Yet even as she sipped her overpriced plastic cup of gin, Emma felt content.

It was summer. She was on vacation. And she was one Q & A session away from having her apartment all to herself again.

“Emma!” Her houseguest fell onto the grass beside her, spilling half of his gin in the process.

“You got them?” Emma asked, leaning over to top up his drink with some of hers.

Taking a few surreptitious glances in either direction, August unzipped his jacket, and tossed something into Emma’s lap. ��I’m a man of my word.”

Emma wouldn’t go quite that far, but she snatched it up anyway. It was a sweater, pale blue with a prominent STAFF designation across the back. Her ticket into the green room. “And where did you get that? Did you slip some poor underpaid usher a tenner, or something?”

August just tapped the side of his nose, and smiled his usual mysterious smile. 

Tamping down her urge to kick him, Emma sighed and pulled the sweater over her head. It was a little big on her, but not comically so. She rolled up the sleeves, and waved a little to get August’s attention.

“What do you think? Do I look like I’d volunteer at a Book Festival?”

“No,” he replied, without looking at her. “And I think your columnist just came out of the Zadie Smith signing. Kevin?”

She squinted against the sun, to where the crowd was pouring out from the Signing Tent. Sure enough, there was a familiar monochromatic figure loping his way across the square. It’d been more than a month since she’d seen him, but if the signature walk hadn’t given him away, the outfit would’ve. Who else would insist on black leather in the middle of summer? 

“Killian,” Emma corrected automatically, already regretting rising to the bait.

August knew full well who Killian was. He’d Facebook stalked him the same as Ruby had. He read his columns religiously, picking them apart in their group chat with the zeal of a literature major on Adderall. He just liked being a dick.

 As they emerged from the throng, Emma saw the petite woman at Killian’s side, matching his stride in impressively tall heels. 

How does she walk in those things? Emma wondered to herself. But before she could voice this aloud, August was already on his feet.

“I’m going to go say ‘hi’.” There was a twinkle in his eye, one she didn’t much like the look of. 

“August...” Emma gave a low warning, but it was too late. He’d already passed her the last of his drink, and disappeared across the square.

Lord help her.

Downing the last of the gin, Emma straightened her sweater one last time and went after him.

***

August wasn’t famous, exactly. His debut, a semi-autobiographical account of his early twenties backpacking through South East Asia, had made some waves when it first came out. There’d been movie interest. A profile in the New Yorker. Everyone was a sucker for that foster-kid-made-good fairytale.

But when he switched focus to fantasy fiction, his agent jumped ship. Likewise, most of his readership. These days, he was what Emma might charitably call a “midlist author.” Consistent, but not exactly setting the world on fire. Mostly, he survived under the radar, letting the royalties from his successful debut prop up his middling career. But every once in a while, he’d run into a fan in the wild, and things would get... strange.

When Emma finally caught up to August, she came to two sudden realizations;

On closer inspection, the woman with the impressive ability to navigate across grass with spike heels was none other than Belle. Librarian Belle. As in, I-really-like-sad-songs-and-married-a-complete-douchebag Belle. 

Belle was staring at August with the kind of gobsmacked, I-just-swallowed-a-goldfish expression that could only mean one thing: She was a fan.

“You know August Booth?” Belle shout-whispered to Killian. The hand clinging tightly to Killian’s bicep might’ve stirred Emma’s interest, if she didn’t think it was all that was keeping the girl upright.

Killian seemed entirely puzzled. “Err… in passing?” He looked from August to Emma, searching for a lifeline. 

“You’re a Swords of Storybrooke fan, I take it?” Emma asked, helpfully.

Belle seemed to shake herself a little. “Emma! Hi!” She reached across to give her a one-armed hug, the best she could do with the books still cradled against her chest with her other hand. 

“Are you kidding? I’m in love with those books! I have the last line from Good Form tattooed on my-” She trailed off abruptly, cheeks flushing red. “Sorry,” she said, turning again to August. “You must get that all the time.”

“Not as often as I’d like,” he said with a flash of teeth.  “Always nice to meet a fan. It was Belle, wasn’t it?” Emma saw the flash of recognition cross his face, as he matched the name with the story. “You’re a friend of Ruby’s, right?”

“Ruby? Ruby Lucas? Uh, yeah. We dated. Sort of. You know her?”

“We go back a ways. Do you like gin, Belle?” he asked, coaxing her closer to the bar. “I heard they’ve got some here that tastes like Earl Grey…”

It took Emma a moment to realize she’d been abandoned. Alone. With Killian Jones. Exactly as August, that slimy son of a bitch, had intended.

To his credit, Killian looked similarly startled, trying and failing to cover it with a casual scratch behind his ear. It was just a small thing, but it killed her.

“Sooo…” he began, never one to leave a silence unfilled, “Been a while…”

5 weeks, not that she was counting.

“Not that I blame you for avoiding me, mind...” he added.

“I wasn’t-” Her first instinct was denial, but she swallowed it back down. He knew her better than that. “Yeah, okay, I was, a bit. Sorry. I just needed…”

“Space,” Killian finished for her.

“Yeah. Space.” 

The smile they shared was fragile. Precious. She wanted to tell him she’d meant to call. That she’d had to fight off tears the whole time she’d read through his latest column. She wanted to tell him what it had meant to her.

Instead, she just said the first stupid thing to pop into her head. 

“Sorry,  I think August just stole your date.”

“Date?” Killian looked back to where Belle and August had disappeared, and it dawned on him. “Belle?” His laugh was incredulous, if Emma was any judge.  “Err… no. We just kind of met in the line.” 

“To Zadie Smith, right?”

“Aye.” He held up the autographed copy of her latest, before tucking it back under his arm. “Elsa’s a big fan. Her birthday’s coming up, so-”

She felt a prickle of attraction and hated herself for it. Just because he was a good brother-in-law, it didn’t mean she had to let her guard down again. Ted Bundy had probably been a great brother-in-law too.

“She’s coming home soon?” Even as strained as things had been, he’d been unable to keep the implosion of his home life entirely to himself.

“Next week. Let the boys settle back into things before school goes back.”

“And things with her and Liam are…?” She let her words trail off, not wanting to overstep.

“They’re… I don’t know.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “They’re talking now, at least. These long, overwrought transatlantic Skype conversations that I pretend very hard not to overhear.  It’s a start, I suppose.”

Emma shrugged in agreement. As thoughtful responses went, it fell short of the mark. But what did she know about fixing a broken marriage? She’d had one functional adult relationship in her entire life, and she hadn’t even made it through the entire proposal before she’d cut and run.

“So you’re working here?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?” She looked down, confused, only to realize she was still wearing her baby blue STAFF sweater. “Oh, this? No, this is stolen. Or borrowed? You know what? I’m not really sure on the specifics.”

“Oh..kay?” Amusement was definitely winning out over his confusion.

Emma shrugged. “August said he’d sneak me into the Green Room. This is part of my cunning disguise. Pretty convincing, huh?”

“You know they check lanyards at the door, right?”

She didn’t. Fucking August.

“There is, of course, another way in…” He tried for his usual irrepressible swagger, and it rang a bit hollow to Emma’s ears. But he was trying. 

“Oh, is there?” she asked , crossing her arms sullenly over her chest.

He nodded, eyes growing brighter as they fell into a more familiar rhythm. “A secret way. Only known to the chosen few…”

Emma shot him a flat look.

With a grin and a flourish, he pulled a lanyard from his pocket, and held it out for her inspection.

It was identical to his in every way, right down to the Saorsa logo stamped on the back.

“Our photographer never made it, so I had a spare. What do you say, Swan? Want to ditch that awful jumper and join the big leagues?”

Emma cocked her head, considering this proposal. ”Would I actually have to take photographs?”

“If you like. But you’d definitely have to hold the camera. Authenticity and all that.” 

“And we’d breathe the same air as actual famous authors?” She was kidding, but only a little.

“Breathe the same air, eat the same Chocolate Digestives. We could even talk to a few, if you like.” He shrugged. “That’s kind of why I’m here.”

Somehow, that trumped her original plan of playing the wallflower while August caught up with his cadre of fellow fantasy authors.

She didn’t say anything, but Killian must’ve already intuited her answer, because he gently pulled the lanyard from her grasp, and slipped it over her head with a smirk. 

“Congratulations, Dr Swan. You’re now a proud member of the fourth estate.” He held out a hand. “Shall we?”

Emma looked down at the proffered hand and hesitated. 

It was just a hand, and it wasn’t. Because here was the truth: Emma had started to trust Killian Jones. Started to lean on him. Confide in him.  And even now, after he’d kicked the metaphorical chair out from under her and shown he was capable of being a complete ass when the mood struck, she still wanted to. 

It was a hand, but it was also a second chance. 

And maybe it made her weak, but Emma reached out and took it.

***

I can’t believe I met a Pulitzer Prize winner! ES

I can. You only made me take twenty pictures of the two of you together. KJ

Funny. ES

Not a hardship, I can assure you. I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. It was good to see you, even if only for a wee bit. KJ

Huh. Sincerity. Not sure what to do with that. ES

I’m trying a new thing, where I occasionally let the people in my life know that I actually appreciate their company. KJ

And how’s that working out for you? ES

Will is now convinced I harbour a dreadful crush on him, and Liam asked me if I had a concussion. Soo… I’d call it a work in progress ;-) KJ

Good to see you too. ES

***

August’s Q & A went better than expected, if you didn’t count the guy at the front whose question was more of a diatribe, really, about all the things he would’ve done differently.

There was always one.

But on the whole, the genuine fans outnumbered the assholes, and it took a good two hours to finally extricate August from his adoring masses, after the fact.

He was already flushed, drunk on ego and free booze when he finally emerged from behind a tent flap, and pulled Emma into a lazy hug. 

“Where to next, oh tour guide extraordinaire?” he asked with hot gin breath.

Emma grimaced, and held him at arm’s length. “There’s no next. You have a train to catch, remember?”

“Last train for London isn’t for another three hours,” August shrugged. “Still time for a last bit of revelry. Didn’t you promise you’d actually take me to a Fringe show?”

She had, but she’d also counted on August being distracted by his own brilliance long enough for her to welch out of that particular contract. The last thing she felt like doing was wading back into the madness of the Old Town.

“It’s kind of last minute…”

But August already had his phone out, scrolling through the app and Emma knew a lost cause when she saw one.

He looked up suddenly, eyes lit with a tantalizing prospect. “How far’s the Tron?” 

***

During the semester, The Tron was a studenty kind of hang out. Plenty of drink specials, and always a free table downstairs. She usually avoided the place, none too eager to bump into her students during their messy nights out. Least of all during hers.

During the Festival, however, it was a very different beast.

Gone were the baby faced clientele, and reasonable prices. It was standing room only, and foreign accents were more common than not. In this crowd, she might’ve been just another festival-goer, at a loose end between shows.

Even with having the push through the late afternoon crowds on the Mound, they still made it with ten minutes to spare before August’s chosen comedian started his set downstairs. She sent him down to save them some seats, and after a lot of pushing, shoving and gratuitous cleavage displays, managed to attract the attention of the nearest bartender.

“Alright, love?” he asked, with little better than a leer.

She ordered a pint for herself, and a tap water for August.

“That’s £10.”

Emma nearly swallowed her tongue. “For a pint? That’s extortion!”

The bartender shrugged, snatching the bill from her hand. “That’s August.”

She turned around, drinks in hand and the crowd surged around her, gunning for her vacated space by the bar. Some of her lager slopped onto the shoes of the guy in front of her, and she was halfway through her apology before she took a look at his face, and froze.

Graham.

Her Graham. Standing in The Tron. And decidedly not somewhere in Northern Ireland, studying the possible ramifications of Brexit on the Irish Border. Contrary to the text he’d sent her two hours ago.

“Emma, hey!” the words were friendly, but there was no disguising the tension in his jaw.

He was not pleased to see her. 

And when Emma looked behind him, and saw the dark haired young woman whose hand was clutched tightly in his, she realized why. It wasn’t just the white knuckled hold they had on each other, so they wouldn’t lose each other in the crush. 

It was the matching silver wedding bands.

Mother. Fucker.

Emma barely had time to process before she was tipping her overpriced pint down his shirt. All £10 of it.

The crowd of people around them suddenly went deathly quiet, so quiet Emma could hear the rush of her own blood inside her ears. She saw at least one person raise a camera phone.

Graham, himself said nothing. Even as his companion, his wife, stared between the two of them, dumbfounded. 

“Sorry,” Emma said, with the least amount of sincerity she could muster. “Really crowded in here, huh?”

The crowd parted for her as she left. Someone even slow clapped. It was all she could do to keep her face level until she was outside on the Mile, already dialing August’s number.

***

August never did end up catching his train that night. Instead they went back to Emma’s flat, and tore through Emma’s entire cache of American candy while bingeing episodes of Bake Off. 

It was only around 3am that she finally let him lead her into her bedroom, tucking her in like she was still a kid. Like nothing had changed in the last twenty years.

“You don’t need to say it,” she said, as he settled on top of the covers beside her, both of them staring at the ceiling.

“Say what?” he asked, leaning over to turn off her lamp.

“That my taste in men sucks.”

August snorted, settling back down beside her. “Well, you said it.”

“You’re right,” Emma admitted to the dark. “And you were right about Walsh. I didn’t love him. I just kind of… got used to him. And it’s not the same thing.”

“No,” he agreed. “It’s not.”

She turned over then, so she could see the vague outline of his face in the near darkness. “Have you told Jefferson how you feel, yet?”

They’d never discussed it. Not explicitly. But from the moment August had introduced his editor into their little group, Emma had known. And it didn’t seem to matter that Jefferson was a widower. Or a single father. There was something there, something between them as they traded insults and bickered over line edits. Something more than colleagues, or even friends. Something rare.

The silence was telling, as August regrouped.

“I wrote him a letter, once,” he confessed. “I was going to submit it with my finished manuscript. Right on the last page. But I ripped it up before I could give it to him.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to snort. “We never stood a chance, did we?”

“Some kids get trophies. Foster kids get abandonment issues.” It was a recitation. A line she’d heard before. 

They knew the truth of it better than anyone.

#cs ff #cs au #findemmaswanafriend #cs fic

[thecomicsnexus]

TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES #52-56 OCTOBER 1992 - FEBRUARY 1993 BY KEVIN EASTMAN, PETER LAIRD, JIM LAWSON, KEITH AIKEN AND MATT BANNING

SYNOPSIS (MIXED WITH TURTLEPEDIA, TMNT ENTITY AND COMIC VINE)

Casey wakes up in Gabby's trailer, too injured to eat. Gabrielle tells Jones that he can stay there and rest up if he wants to, and Casey says that he might. Jones then dials the local police to report the incident, but when the operator answers he just hangs up. He grabs a drink and heads outside to take a walk.

April is reading about the Foot violence in the New York Times. The story sparks her memories of the Foot burning down her antique store. Robyn interrupts her sister's thoughts and the two head out to do some shopping.

Gabby gets an hour off so she heads home and is surprised to find Casey still there. Jones has cleaned up the trailer and made lunch that they share.

Master Splinter is in the woods of Northampton, Massachusetts, attempting to meditate, but something is on his mind and he cannot concentrate.

Casey and Gabby are talking about the family that Jones left behind in New York.

"You miss your family, huh Casey?" Gabby asks.

"Yeah, I guess..." Casey mumbles, "Yeah..."

Gabrielle takes Casey's hand and tells him, "I just want you to know... when you're ready... if you're ready... to tell me... I'll be here. Until then... I'd like you to stay."

With that out in the open, Gabby kisses Casey.

In New York City, an Asian businessman is riding on a bus. He opens his briefcase and connects a cordless phone to his laptop computer, using it to hack into the power company's computers. He flags an account as seven months overdue. The power company discovers this odd glitch and wonders how it got past them for so long without anyone noticing, but rather than investigate further, they simply shut off the electricity in a building - one that the Foot Soldiers are using as a headquarters.

In Tokyo, Japan we see a conference with numerous business people gathered around a table. A man notes that their software has almost completed beta test phase and that it is a pity that they allowed the New York factions to go to war for so long. A woman notes that it was to their advantage to wait.

"In chaos there is weakness." she states.

Back in New York City, the Turtles prevent a woman from being mugged by three men. Raphael is tired of being a street vigilante and wants to find the Foot.

We see the old man in the hospital, sitting up for the first time with assistance from his nurse.

Leonardo tells Raphael that they just need to wait, and that in time their path will be revealed.

"Could ya keep the Zen crap to yourself for now, Leo?" Raph sneers, "We don't all have your freakin' Buddha nature, ya know... some of us actually enjoy linear thought! Like me... if I can't figure out whose butt I'm supposed to kick soon, I'm just gonna - -"

With that, Raph sees a strange robot emerging from out of a van driven by Foot Soldiers.

"--bust--" Raphael concludes, "Oboy. ALL RIGHT!"

The robot starts destroying a nearby bus, the one that contains the businessman who had earlier hacked into the power company's computers. The Turtles attack the robot and an army of Foot Soldiers appear from nowhere. Chaos ensues. Raph manages to destroy the robot, and the guys regroup, only to find themselves surrounded by Foot Soldiers and two more robots.

"What a revoltin' development this is." Raph notes as the Foot close in.

Well, look at it this way, Raph," Mike states, "It can't get much worse!"

In the final panel we see one of Shredder's Elite poised on top of a building.

Master Splinter is still attempting to meditate in the woods of Northampton, Massachusetts but his efforts once again prove futile.

Casey has taken a job as a grocery bagger, but he messes up by putting the bread on the bottom of the bag, which enrages his boss. The angry older man gets in Jones' face and reads him the riot act and insults Jones. Casey gets angry and puts a bag over the man's head and punches him in the face, sending him flying. Jones then storms out, but as soon as he's outside he realizes that he needs the job and goes back inside. Casey apologizes for the incident and asks for his job back. The man makes Jones get on his knees and beg for the work, but then screams "NO!" in Casey's face. So Space Case lets another punch fly and heads out.

Karai's plane has arrived in the United States, and she boards a helicopter that takes her to Foot headquarters, an imposing skyscraper in New York City.

Casey and Gabby are watching a romantic sunset. Gabrielle announces that she's getting hungry and wants to head for home, but before Casey starts their Jeep, he produces a ring and proposes. Gabby accepts Casey's proposal and the two are engaged.

April is having dinner with a slick weasel with a ponytail. The man brags about his programming prowess and then grabs April by the knee. O'Neil throws her coffee on the fellow and storms out. As she walks home, April reflects on how much she dislikes California.

Master Splinter is awoken by a voice, insisting that the old rat must eat if he's to survive. The Sensei tells the voice that he has nothing to subsist on.

"Help me..." Splinter implores.

"The help you seek," the Voice replies, "Is your own."

"There is little nourishment in riddles, shadow." states Splinter.

"The riddle is yours... that which can sustain you is within your reach... but not yet within your grasp." the Voice notes.

"I'm hungry... cold... in pain... and yet you torment me. You are death." concludes the Sensei.

"I am not," the Voice states, "But I know death."

Leonardo encourages his brothers to go on a training run. Raphael is not interested, but after some cajoling, he agrees to go along.

The old man is sitting up at the hospital, gazing longingly at the shuttered window.

As the Turtles jump from rooftop to rooftop, Raphael steps in some dog dung. This enrages Raph and he angrily stalks off towards home. As Raph makes hi sway back, he's ambushed by one of Shredder's Elite Guard. Raph is badly cut on the face, but he manages to severely wound the Elite by stabbing him in the side with a sai, thus taking the Elite out of action. Leo, Mike and Don arrive just as the fighting ends. The Elite gazes up at Leonardo.

"Y-you... you are the kappa... that killed my Master... Oroku Saki!" he stammers.

"Yes." replies Leonardo.

"I am... duty bound... to slay you... to... avenge my Master..." the man croaks.

"I think your avengin' days are over, pal." notes Raph.

"Perhaps... in the next life..." notes the Elite.

"Perhaps." answers Leo.

With this, the Elite Guard commits seppuku.

Master Splinter continues arguing with the Voice.

"Who are you!!?" Splinter demands.

"I have had several names," comes the answer, "But considering the circumstances, perhaps none is more appropriate than this... you may call me... the Rat King."

At her programming job in LA, April is feeling restless.  She goes to her boss and states that the project he currently has her assigned to is a waste of time.  Her boss sends her back to her desk and tells her to finish it.  April sits back down, frustrated and angry.

At a Justice of the Peace's office in Colorado, Casey and Gabe tie the knot.  Returning to their trailer, Casey has decorated the whole place in a tropical island theme to serve as their honeymoon.  Gabe is thrilled with the gesture.

Inside the abandoned smokestack in Northampton, Splinter has been surviving off melted snow for water, though he needs food soon or he’ll perish.  The Rat King urges him to eat the rats that scurry about his reach, claiming that once Splinter dies, the rats will have no second thoughts about eating his remains.  Splinter refuses, believing himself to be above something as reprehensible as cannibalism.  The Rat King tells Splinter that he is making a mistake by trying to shed his animal nature in search of spiritual perfection.

Back in LA, April returns home to Robyn’s place in a foul mood.  She chides Robyn again for being messy and irresponsible and the two get into an argument. Robyn reminds April that their mother is dead and that April is not their father.

In the smokestack, Splinter grabs a rat, but lets it go; still unable to do the deed.  The Rat King calls Splinter a weak master for his students, but Splinter believes it better to die than give in.  Splinter asks if the Rat King is human and the Rat King reveals that he rejected his humanity long ago.

In New York, Karai and the Foot Clan have tracked the Turtles (who have grown sloppy) back to their water tower.  Karai has assembled a unit of Foot Soldiers from the remains of the New York branch that are lost and looking for leadership.  They plant a bomb beneath the tower, setting it on fire and sending the Turtles fleeing onto the rooftop.  The Turtles, caught totally unawares, struggle to battle the Foot Soldiers (while in the hospital, the old man lays quietly in his bed).

Karai orders her Foot Soldiers to take the Turtles alive and they break out their tasers.  The Foot Soldiers get Leo, zapping him unconscious.  Though they’re loathe to do it, the other Turtles retreat before they’re caught, too.  As they escape, Karai sends an arrow their way with a note attached.  The note contains a phone number.

At Robyn’s place, April receives a phone call from the Empire Estates Nursing Home.  As it turns out, their father passed away that morning.

REVIEW

When this story started, all these characters were in pain with their present. But as the story progresses, they start to figure out that they found their destiny, and that they cannot really avoid it. By being separated, they became weaker. If you like metaphors, all these divisions are reflected in the TV reports about conflicts in Europe and Asia. These fractures are food for vultures.

To make things more interesting, Karai made her debut in these issues. We are still not sure what she wants but... well... I already know the character :p

As for Casey’s story. I never heard of this Gabe before, so I don’t think that story is going to end well. And I think this mostly because of all the characters that are rediscovering themselves, Casey is the only one that seems to have been benefited by this arc. We’ll see.

The art got better with Matt Banning. It’s no secret that certain artists look better paired with certain inkers... maybe Keith Aiken wasn’t the right choice for Lawson.

I give these issues a score of 9.

#a c farley #tmnt #mirage studios #comics #review #1992 #1993 #modern age #indie #teenage mutant ninja turtles #city at war #karai #splinter #rat king #casey jones #april o'neil

[supersoldiersruined-me]

And the Winner Is...

A/N: This is my entry for @mss4msu 500 celebration challenge! I’m super late on this one too, thank you for being patient! 💕It’s my second work with Zac so it’s still quite plain and simple, although I’ll be posting a smuttier part later on (following this storyline.) I just thought I’d make this a fluffy oneshot and then whoever wants to read the smut will have it in a seperate text. 🤷‍♀️ Warnings: none really, I don’t even think there’s a swear word... Word count: 2.5k Summary: After several calls to your local radio station and five good answers, you find yourself owner of a VIP pass for the New York comic con. There’s that one man in particular you wish to see, and little did you know he had planned this all along.

Main Masterlist

You’re holding the ticket in your hands, your thumb runs over the large textured letters. You’re still unable to process the euphoria surrounding the events that lead to this day. Your name is written under the New York Comic Con logo, its beautiful lanyard dangles from your hands as you twirl it around to look at the pattern. The softness of the couch has never been so welcoming as it envelopes you in your downfall from the heavens. The laminated ticket comes to your chest, followed by you giggling in excitement and tapping your feet to the ground. The phone in your pocket rings, and you hurry to pick it up.

“Hello?” You answer without reading the ID.

“Hi Y/N! How are you?” Your friend chimes from the other side.

“Oh, hey! I’m…” You ponder whether to tell or not. “I’m doing great,” you finish quickly as not to leave any suspicion.

“Riiight. Expected someone else?” You bite your lip to keep from laughing some more. She knows where you’re headed to, but not what’s actually hidden behind all this. “Well anyway, if you want me to help you pack for your trip I’m free all night.” She giggles when you stay silent. You end up accepting her offer, unsure if you could go the entire evening without combusting of joy. You figure that having her around would help you stay down to earth - but most importantly, it would keep the scenarios from playing in your mind.

You’re happy to realise that both seats next to you remain empty as the plane shakes off the ground. Once the flight is steady and you’ve lost sight of the city lights, you fold your knees over the arm rest as you get comfortable for the short flight. A variety of films is available from the on-board entertainment, including very recent titles, and some of your favourite series. So much for the book you had packed, you think. The soft vibrations help numb your mind and soon you’re well into a proper nap; an earphone securely playing the soundtrack to a Disney movie, the other hanging over your shoulder as it got pulled out not too long after.

Someone’s backpack strap is what has you jolting up at your arrival. You stretch as best you can in the confined space, reaching over to your left for the cubicle window. The rainy weather is not enough to dispirit you as you close it back and pick up your stuff, ready to have a great weekend at the convention. You’re in the last bunch out of the plane and through customs.

You set your bag onto the plushy bench at the foot of the bed - which is way too big for one person, you think - and let yourself fall on your back; the supple material has you bouncing a couple times. As you take a few deep breaths, you let your hands roam the space next to you, the silky fabric of the duvet-cover allows your fingers to glide easily, and it soon feels like you’re swimming in your own little world. The room is dark; the only thing coming in is the filtered light of the blinking advertisement panels outside. The dim ambiance of Time Square that’s just a few blocks down helps your mind drift off, and as if someone had dropped their knocked-out, fully-clothed kid on their sister’s spare bed, you lay there, content, before finally falling asleep.

A knock at the door pulls you out of your beauty sleep, and you thank the night’s unexpected crash for the fully functional outfit.

“Hi, can I-” You stop yourself when the door won’t go wider than a couple inches, the chain lock still well in place. “I’m sorry. Hi!” A familiar face waits with a white box in hand, and the same sweet smile. It’s his assistant. She had skyped you to explain what the pass included and later to explain the schedule of your plane.

“I hope I’m not too early for you. I’m just dropping this off. The convention starts at ten,” she begins, and then waits for your reaction. She smiles at your confusion. “Feel free to call me if you need a ride. I think you’ll like it. Congratulations again!” She winks as she taps on the box before walking away into the long hall. Suddenly, the furthest door down the hall opens slightly and your heart skips a beat on the spot. His tall silhouette barely makes it under the door frame as he steps out to get his special delivery of newspapers. Dark jeans held around his waist by a black leather belt. No shirt. Before he can stretch back up and see you, you squeal your way back into the room, then slam the door before leaning against it. Giggles escape your lips and you can’t help but dance around a little. Pictures surely didn’t do him justice.

The soft cardboard of the box tears slightly under your tight grip. A small cut gives you a peek at what’s hiding inside. With a slight spark of excitement you rush towards the table in the small living space and lay it on the marble. The small ribbon is easily torn away and you pull out a Nerd HQ t-shirt; the fabric is soft in your hands, the colours remind you of an 80s arcade room. The symbol is spelled out in a neon-like font, and stripes run down the side seems. You pick up the small note at the bottom of the box and gasp as you read it:

“Dear nerd,

Thank you for participating in our contest! I hope you enjoy your stay and that you have fun at the convention. But then again, you’ll get to meet me so that’s pretty rad!

I’ll see you later Y/N,

Zac ❤”

The last few words are hard to read as your eyes slowly fill with tears of joy. He’s taken the time to write a little message for you and it honestly beats getting a like from him on one of your tweets. You had been able to talk to him over the phone for a couple minutes when him and his assistant called to give you the result of the draw. He later texted you a simple hello, which stretched into a pretty deep conversation about mental health and upcoming movies. About a week later he warned you that his phone might have been hacked, and that for your privacy - and his - you had accepted to stop talking until you could meet. Knowing that you’ll be able to see him in person definitely has you nervous and shaking.

Getting back onto your feet, you trot towards the bathroom and hold the shirt up in front of your body, imagining how it would look on you. Then you go back to finish your outfit and get your small bag ready with everything you want signed.

You walk out of the elevator to the basement, where a black Mercedes awaits. A small hand waves you in through the open passenger window, and you settle next to his assistant.

“Told you you’d like it!” Her tone is friendly and she winks at you before pulling onto the street.

Small talk makes the ride down the jammed streets of Hell’s Kitchen a breeze, and with the lanyard around your neck, you walk into the busy halls of the Javits Center. The main area is packed; you wonder if everything is up to fire regulations as you strut around, being careful not to walk on anyone’s heels or break any cosplays. Marvel pretty much owns the place - or rather Disney - as Star Wars ships and maquettes are displayed here and there, comic artists and autograph booths fill the back walls. You walk down the aisles as if you were on a cloud. This is certainly the best initiation you could have gotten. Then, with an extra heartbeat per minute, you come to realise that you’re just a few feet away from the DC gate, which is ironically adorned with Shazam posters, along with Superman gear. An attroupement of people surrounds the Batmobile that roars in a corner. You sigh as the whole event becomes a bit overwhelming, and you can’t help but feel yourself go a bit weak.

You step into the little archway, and a well deserved breath escapes your lungs. You waste some time looking around at the frames and pieces of craft that creators expose proudly. And then your eyes come up to the posters hung along the black curtains behind the autograph tables, a sweet red shade tints your cheeks at the sight of Zac’s picture in the Shazam suit. A small kid bumps into you when your feet give up on their simple task; the flashes of his near-naked body resurfacing from the morning has your mind going foggy. He steps out a few minutes later, along with Asher and Jack, and they are greeted by a roar of cheers which knocks you out of a day dream. Your shoulder finds refuge on a nearby column, and you decide to wait until he has talked to a few people before you can come up with the courage to walk to his booth. He’s a little faster though and spots you from his seat, earning yourself a wink and a bright smile.

“Here comes the smolder!” Someone calls from the line in front of you, making you laugh a little. A strong hand comes to your shoulder from behind, startling you.

“Y/N?” His voice is a bit higher than you expected for someone his size. His square shoulders jump up a little when he sees your frightened face. The company shirt he has on is clearly a size too small; the sleeve bands around his biceps are screaming for their life.

“Yes. Do you need an ID?” You already have a hand in your bag as you ask the question, but he grabs your arm and politely shakes his head.

“It’s alright, love. Follow me,” he adds.

You struggle to keep up with him as he guides you through a crowded area, even though his body creates a rather smooth passage. About a minute later you find yourself alone with him in a small hallway; pipes fill the ceiling and everything is made out of concrete. Had it not been for the bright neon lights, this would certainly feel like a horror movie. You keep walking in silence, hearing the crowd cheer through the small doors you keep passing by. Then he opens a door to your right and motions you inside while holding it for you.

“If you please,” he says cordially.

You enter the room and scan your surroundings. A couch covered in dark green velvet sits by the opposing wall. There’s a barber chair sitting in front of a big mirror, where bottles of makeup and what-not fill a thin shelf. You step a little further inside and then see the fruits on the coffee table along with various snacks and bottles of Gatorade. When the bodyguard closes the door behind you and moves out of the way you see the small post on the door.

‘Zachary Levi’ written in black sharpie on the back of a random list, taped unevenly.

Your jaw slackens a little, your gaze goes back to the treats on the table and you smile at how personal this feels. The man invites you to get comfortable and take whatever you’d like, and you think he said he’d be back shortly with a warm lunch but your mind is already wandering around the subtle items and decor. You run your hands on the soft material of the couch as you let your body relax into it. It has a natural wood frame and feels very vintage. Very Zac. A small TV hangs on the wall in front of it and is already turned on and logged onto someone’s Netflix account. You grab the remote and proceed to ‘get comfortable’ as the man had said. The choice is easy when one of your favourite series is in his list as well.

The first episode is nearly done when faint voices are getting closer in the hallway, and out of panic you turn it off and sit back into the couch. The handle moves but it takes a few seconds before the door is finally pushed open. He’s standing there in the frame, still talking to someone you can’t see from your position. Although you doubt you’d be able to see anything else with Zac just shining in the room. You stand up and he sees it in his sight. He turns his head just a little and sends you another wink along with a little wave, politely asking you to wait another minute. You stand there in the middle of the room, swaying from a foot to another as you try and compose yourself. Then he turns around completely and steps inside.

“Hi Y/N!” His voice is high and bashful. You move your hand up in hopes of reaching for his, but he jerks it away gently and opens his arms instead. “Come on! Bring it in.”

You obey and move closer to him. Your arms hook behind his body but you’re too afraid to touch him. You linger there, your head against his chest that slowly rises with each breath, trying to slow your heartbeat to match his. His actions make it hard for you to actually focus. One of his hands reaches the back of your head and he runs his fingers through your hair before settling lower on your neck.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he whispers in the crook of your neck. He only lets go when he feels you shiver and your arms fall to your side. He grabs your shoulders, pushing you back a little and looks at you, his face wincing at his clumsiness. “Did I overstep? Gosh. I’m so, so sorry!” He seems  genuinely concerned and bothered with himself until he sees you smile finally, making him shiver in return.

“You shouldn’t...I’m...I can’t lie and say I’m not enjoying this.” He breathes out when you’re done and his shoulders relax. “I guess I’m just startled. You really are so handsome and...” And I saw you half naked this morning and wanted to have my hands on you all day but… You shake your head at the thought with a laugh which seems to amuse him as well.

“What?” He grins and takes a step closer. So close your neck is about to snap from looking up at him.

“I, um…” Your hands come to your face and you lean against his chest again. His hands run down your arms and onto the small of your back, before slowly making their way back up and locking behind your neck. He pulls slightly on your hair, making you face him again. A whimper threatens to leave your throat but his lips are quick to block any sound from coming out of your mouth.

#my writing #mss4msu500celebration #challenge entry #zachary levi fic #zac x reader #reader insert #zachary levi fluff

[ruinedthatfriendship]

Heart Attack

A/N: I fully acknowledge that this is kind of dumb but oh well. I promised to post my old fanfics, I did not promise that they would be good. 

In which Demi writes a song, Simon has feelings, and it gets very fluffy. 

“Demi! Demi!” Marissa was holding her phone up, clearly taking a video as she tried to get her best friend’s attention. “Are you excited to get back to the X Factor?”

Demi rolled her eyes, lying down across her bed with her head propped on one hand. “No,” she returned, turning her face into a pillow to muffle a theatrical screech.

Marissa laughed and ended the video, both of the girls falling silent for several minutes as they focused on their respective phones. They’d decided to spend the day together before Demi caught a flight out to do some pre-taping for the new X Factor season. Auditions wouldn’t start for a few more months, but it was time to get things started.

Demi scrolled through her Twitter absently, noting first the number of random tweets at her about how hot she looked, and then one from Simon Cowell a few weeks ago, a picture of her sticking her tongue out in the dressing rooms captioned, “Brat”. She’d considered replying, but then thought better of it.

“It’s not fair,” she pouted, not really noticing that she’d spoken aloud.

“What’s not?” Marissa asked, sitting up fully to look at her.

Demi rolled her eyes. “I haven’t washed my hair in...like a week. I’m wearing a sweatshirt that I’m pretty sure used to be Mom’s, which she probably stole from Eddie. But I bet I could walk outside right now and get some guy to give me his number.”

Marissa huffed teasingly. “Yeah, Demi, I get it. You’re gorgeous.”

Demi lunged forward and smacked her with a pillow, earning a loud peal of laughter. “Shut up! The point is,” she emphasized with mock annoyance, “that’s all fine if I want some lame guy I don’t care about. But you put me in a room with someone I actually like and I completely turn into…” she trailed off and stuck her tongue out with a gagging noise, using her hand gesture to illustrate her brain turning to mush. “It’s pathetic!”

Marissa looked at her strangely for a few seconds. “Does this have anything to do with Simon Cowell?”

Demi’s reaction might have been comical, if she wasn’t suddenly panicked. She scrambled upright chaotically, sitting up in bed and shoving a pillow out of her way. “What?”

Marissa just shrugged. “I did watch the season, Demi. I would hope you’re aware that you definitely act a little stupid around him sometimes.”

“Jesus Christ!” Demi almost shouted. “That was not--I wasn’t talking about anyone specific! He’s an old man, Marissa! And anyway I’d like to see you do the...stupid auditions cycle and not get stupid after a while.”

Marissa was just watching her with a vaguely amused expression on her face. “Uh huh. Yep, okay, whatever you say, Dems.”

Demi laughed incredulously, hoping the heat she felt in her face wasn’t showing. “What?” she demanded, and shook her head. Nope, nope, nope. “It was a general statement, get your mind out of the gutter!”

Marissa arched a challenging eyebrow. “Sure,” she said disbelievingly, but, mercifully, dropped the subject.

It didn’t matter that her friend was right. It didn’t matter that Simon did make her stupid, that she was forever looking at him and hearing things fall out of her own mouth that she hadn’t given permission. That she’d never much felt a need to dress up for Wilmer unless they went out, but he could make her go through four or five outfits in her dressing room before shows.

It didn’t matter. Nothing could ever happen, not least because he certainly didn’t think much of her. She was a younger sibling, a daughter or niece, a pest bothering him and boosting ratings with her antics. Little brat. And he was so much older than she was. Which Demi didn’t mind whatsoever; age was just a number. But the world would flip, both of their careers could go down in flames, all for the sake of something that would probably never last. Would never start, she reminded herself firmly.

No, when it came to Simon Cowell, her walls would stay firmly up.

Demi quickly forced her brain into professional mode as her phone rang, and she stood up as she answered, walking over to her desk and looking through papers for a list she’d written a few days ago.

“Hello, Demi. Just wanted to check in,” Her producer. She was set to drop a new album soon, and they were just putting the finishing touches on the final songs. “I wanted to confirm that you’re on board with Neon Lights as the first track on the album. I know we’d talked about it, but I don’t know that we got to a consensus?”

Demi sighed, biting her bottom lip as she considered. It was a fine song, there was nothing wrong with setting it to open the album. But something about it didn’t sit right. “I am so sorry,” she sighed into the phone. “I’m gonna be a complete brat right now,” and damn Simon for creeping into her speech patterns, “but I think it needs to go farther down the track list.”

“So what do you want to start with? That’s going to be the first single we release, most likely, so…”

“Ask me tomorrow.” Demi said breathlessly, struck by a sudden inspiration.

“What? Why? If you need some time, that’s fine…”

“I’m going to write it tomorrow,” she replied with conviction that scared even her. “I’m going to write it tomorrow and record it for you when I fly back. Trust me.”

“Demi, I’m not going to say you’re not a brilliant artist, but--”

“Just let me try this! Trust me. If it doesn’t work out, you can put Made In The USA at the top, okay?”

When she got off of the phone, making a face at herself as she hung up, Marissa was staring at her. “Demi, what did you just do?”

“Something stupid,” the singer sighed, blowing a strand of hair out of her face. And maybe it was, but she didn’t like any of her other options. She liked all of the other songs set for the album, but not enough. And she knew she could do this; more than half of them had already been written on her notepad at the judges’ table. Something about the atmosphere was...inspiring. Or someone, her brain whispered helpfully, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Marissa’s. 

***

Demi had no intention of breaking the promise she’d made to her team, but it was proving harder than she’d initially thought. Sure, she had plenty of down time on the plane, and in the makeup chair in her dressing room before she was due on the X Factor set, but her brain was stubbornly refusing to get into a song-writing headspace. She’d much rather laugh with Kelly and her makeup artist, scrolling through her phone. She liked Kelly, it was going to be a fun season sitting with her on the panel. But nothing was going to be much fun if she couldn’t figure this out.

It was like a school project, procrastinated on for too long and now with a fearsome deadline looming. She was chewing on the inside of her lip when she finally made it to the set for sound checks, taking her seat next to Simon with a pouting expression. They’d be doing a few promo shots at the judges’ desk, as well as individual backstage interviews, so they had to be lined up and in position.

“What’s wrong, brat?” he asked immediately, noticing her face.

Demi shook her head quickly. “Nothing, I’m just stuck.”

“Stuck?” he queried back, arching an eyebrow in her direction. “What on earth are you talking about?”

She shrugged back, turning away from him as a producer called her name. “Songwriting,” she hissed under her breath as one last explanation before testing out her mic for the video.

She felt Simon lean over, his arm on the back of her chair as usual, and pinch her nose with his other hand. Demi scowled at him, turning the sentence for her sound check into a nasally, “Damn it, Simon!”

She shook her head at him, taking advantage of the lack of cameras and audience watching them to jokingly flip him off. How she’d managed to survive an entire season next to this idiot, she had no idea. And now she was going to do it again.

He was kind of her best friend, sure. And they made fun of one another constantly, always in a contest to one-up the other. But she loved his stupid jokes all the same, his frankly obsessive need to touch her, the warmth of his hugs. The way he always seemed to understand her better than anyone else. She loved him, but there was no way she’d ever tell him that. They flirted, sure, and they’d had their moments, enough that her tape at the finals last year was a compilation of the two of them, but it meant nothing. Walls up, Demi.

She turned her chair slightly, looking at him. Damn it.

He chose that moment to notice her gaze, turning to look at her with an amused expression. “What?” When she didn’t immediately reply, he smirked. “You’re staring, darling.”

Demi smacked his chest, laughing, and made a point of redirecting her attention. Still, she felt a pang. I don’t want to fall for you. I don’t want to fall in love,  she thought wildly, and then, too late.

This was just a fast track to a broken heart and she knew it. I don’t need this right now.

But he was right there, whether she wanted him to be or not, and they were about to do this whole thing again for a new season. There would be no escaping, she’d definitely be sitting right up next to him again after the ratings of the past season, and some dramatic part of her wondered if her heart could take it.

Because she was Simon’s best friend, too, she was pretty sure. He had an awful habit of treating her like a sort of ‘guy best friend’, frequently regaling her with stories of his latest womanizing escapades and occasionally poking at her for advice. It made her want to scream, sometimes. I don’t want to tell you how to make that skinny, beautiful blonde fall in love with you. I want it to be me. But it’s never going to be me.

At some point, Simon had stood up and wandered off to chat with the producers, leaving Demi at the desk lost in her thoughts and Paulina on the end, similarly quiet. Demi was tracing her finger absently across her notepad, her thoughts flitting wildly between the pressure she’d put on herself to write a number-one single by tonight, and Simon. He was always in the back of her brain, and sometimes she hated him for it. Hated herself, for not being able to put up an effective wall. Or maybe it was just that nothing worked on him. He could always strip away whatever she tried to use for a front, in every situation.

You make me stupid, she thought, remembering Marissa’s words. I don’t want to fall in love with you. But he killed her every time he took her hand. Gave her some unidentified ‘glow’ her sisters had even commented on, though they hadn’t named him as a cause. Demi knew.

Why am I not good enough? I’m right in front of you…

“Demi!” A pair of familiar hands landed on her shoulders, shaking her, and Demi jumped wildly in her seat, yelping, as Simon burst out laughing behind her.

“Oh my god!”

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled, not sounding very sorry at all. “But you looked so focused while I was coming back over here...I couldn’t help it.” He subsided into laughter again.

Demi’s heart was still racing from the adrenaline, but she still couldn’t silence the track in the back of her brain, quietly pointing out that she loved seeing him laughing. “Damn it, Simon, you almost gave me a heart attack.” Gave me a heart attack. I’m going to have a heart attack. Heart attack.

“Demi? Demi?”

Demi blinked, shaking herself back into the present. “What?”

Simon smirked at her, turning his chair to face her on the panel. “Look, I know I’m gorgeous, but you were staring again, brat.”

Demi blinked at him, still not really listening. He’d just given her the perfect metaphor.  “Uh-huh. Hey, give me that pen!”

Startled by the non sequitur, Simon allowed her to pull the pen he was holding away from him. He watched as she uncapped it hastily and started writing something on her pad, the scrawl messy and frenzied. Putting my defense...he made out before she squealed and covered it with her hand.

“No!”

“What are you doing, brat?”

She shrugged. “Writing.”

Simon made a dive for the pad, only for her to yank it to her chest, squeaking her protests.

“Simon! Stop! It’s not ready yet.”

“What do you mean, not ready?” he demanded, laughing at her.

Her dark eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint. “Wait and see! It’ll be released soon, anyway.”

She wasn’t sure if she’d imagined Simon’s eyes lighting up. “New song?” he asked her, relaxing back into his seat. “Okay, brat, I can be patient. For you.”

***

Written in one night and recorded in one take, the song dropped as a single just before they were set to start the first round of auditions. Of course, episodes wouldn’t start airing until later, and Demi imagined there would be some mention of her new album made when they cut together the packages to introduce the judges. For now, though, she was just in her dressing room backstage, getting the finishing touches to her makeup put on. Brand new season, clean slate. New talent, new groupings, and this time she wouldn’t be the first mentor out of the competition.

There was still almost a half hour before they needed to be on the set, so Demi buckled on her shoes and walked out into the hallway, finding first Kelly, and then Paulina in the green room. They made small talk for a little while to kill the time, Demi becoming more and more comfortable with the women. It was going to be fun working with them, she thought. They’d certainly make for an exciting panel.

“Where’s Simon?” Kelly asked suddenly. “He should be here.”

“In his dressing room, I think,” Paulina replied in her accented voice. “I can--”

“I’ll go get him,” Demi offered quickly, not entirely sure why she’d just spoken. Barriers, Demi. Or not.

She didn’t notice the look her two fellow judges shared as she stood and made her way out of the green room, involuntarily smoothing imaginary lint off of her dress. She knocked a few times on his door, getting no response. She could hear something getting knocked over inside, though, and figured she may as well let herself in.

Simon didn’t notice her at first. His back was to her, righting a water bottle on his desk, and he was wearing a pair of headphones.

“Simon!” she called loudly, finally forcing him to turn around. Laughing at him a little, she pointed to his phone. “What were you listening to?” Her eyebrows waggled, suggestively teasing. 

“Nothing,” he returned quickly, sliding the headphones off and standing, a bit hastily, Demi thought. “What do you need, brat?”

Demi pouted at him. “Now you have to tell me!”

“No,” Simon returned briskly. “Now--Demi!”

She made a dive toward him for his phone, still laughing, and pouted helplessly when he held it above her head. “But Simon, I’m short.”

“Precisely.” He said dryly. “And nosy. And gobby. And--”

She jumped, grabbing at his arm and stealing the phone before he could react.

“Demi!” he groaned in dismay, his hand dropping to his side as he watched her with his cell phone in her hands. 

She turned it on, suddenly not quite sure what to do with the information confronting her. Simon stood in front of her almost awkwardly, crossing his arms over his chest, while she blinked rapidly at his phone in her hands. “Aw, Simon. You were listening to my music?”

He shrugged, holding his hand out for the phone. “That’s your new single, isn’t it? I do have to keep on top of these things.”

“Uh-huh.” Demi nodded, relinquishing the phone back to him. “Well? Worth the wait?”

He looked puzzled for a moment, before his expression cleared. “Oh, was that what you were writing at the promo taping? After…” he trailed off suddenly.

“After what?” Demi prompted, curious again. “After what, Simon?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head abruptly.

“Simon,” Demi countered sternly. “Come on, tell me!”

He narrowed his eyes, studying her, almost calculating. She shifted nervously under his gaze, trying to guess at what he was thinking. He looked like he was debating something, mixed with a glimmer of...hope? Demi wondered suddenly if he’d managed to arrive at the conclusion that she’d written it about him, nerves twisting her stomach. God, she hoped not. The inevitable polite rejection would be horrifyingly awkward.

“After I scared you,��� he murmured, looking suddenly uncertain and somehow smaller than the Simon Cowell she was familiar with. “And you said…”

She could hear her own voice echoing in her head, sounding far-off like an old playback tape. Damn it, Simon, you almost gave me a heart attack! Demi raised an eyebrow. She should have known he’d figure her out. Still, she wasn’t going to help him toward the painful conclusion.

“This is stupid,” Simon muttered suddenly, turning away from her with his hands on his hips. “Was someone looking for me? Is that why you came in here?”

Demi blinked. That wasn’t exactly the reaction she’d been expecting. And he sounded hurt, somehow, and it was breaking her heart. And even if she was about to help him break it further, she couldn’t let it go. Not now. “What’s stupid? I don’t know what you mean.”

Simon huffed and rolled his eyes, walking to the door. “Forget about it, brat.”

“No!” she burst out, planting her feet and standing obstinately in the middle of his dressing room. “You can’t just leave. Come on, Simon, tell me what you were going to say!”

“Actually I can, darling,” he returned, amused. “It’s my dressing room.” And with that, the obstinate British judge left her standing alone in the middle of the room.

***

“Do you live alone?” Simon was asking an unfortunately tone deaf contestant. “No one around to tell you to stop?”

“Simon!” Demi hissed in reprimand, but it was half hearted. Not only was he right, but she was preoccupied. She wasn’t going to let him get away with just shutting her out, and if she had to revert to elementary school note passing, so be it.

She slipped a sheet of her notepad under the edge of his hand, meeting his eyes with a shrug while the contestant slinked off in defeat. What were you going to say????

“Never you mind, brat,” he muttered back.

She turned her chair to face him, stubbornly staring at him. “I’m not going to let it go, Simon, you know that. I will make your life hell until you just tell me… oh, seriously, Simon! It’s obviously bothering you, come on, talk to me!”

“Fine,” he said briskly, turning back to her with a completely closed off expression. “Here you go, Demi: what inspired you to write that song? And now will you forget about it?”

Insecurity. All at once, she had a name for the unreadable expression that was always flashing across his face. Doubt, like he didn’t know what she was doing with him any more than she knew why he bothered with her.

And it gave her enough of a fool’s hope to lean over toward him again while they waited for the next contestant to enter the stage. Beside her, Kelly was giving her a strange look, but Demi ignored her. She had her hands braced, one on the desk and one on the back of Simon’s chair, and put her lips next to his ear. “I wrote it for you,” she whispered, feeling her heart racing in her throat as she made her confession.

Her own insecurities were wiped away in an instant, Simon turning to face her so quickly that he almost hit her head. He was wearing one of the brightest smiles she’d ever seen on his face, and she gave up on nervously biting her lips to return the gesture. “Really?” he whispered back to her, completely ignoring the woman on stage answering Paulina’s questions.

Demi gestured pointedly with her head to the stage once, but nodded at him once more before refocusing her attentions, still wearing a brilliant smile. Nothing was properly set yet, but it was a start. And when Simon carefully took her hand under the table, carrying on his critiques smoothly all the while, she knew her split-second decision to rewrite the single had been worth it.

And when she opened her phone later to a text from Marissa, it was a link to a slightly-blurry photo of the two of them, smiling at each other stupidly, making very obvious heart eyes at one another. Girl, what did you do?????????

Damn. She’d completely forgotten how many eyes, and cell phone cameras, would have been on them all day. .

Sitting on the couch in Simon’s dressing room, heels kicked off and waiting for him so they could leave together, she smiled again. Something stupid, she texted back first, as per the old joke. Then, but worth it.

#dimon #demi lovato #simon cowell #fanfiction #really fucking old fanfiction #gotta love my 2013 dumbass self writing dimon