#UPDATE: THEY FIRED THE HEAD OF COMICS AT RIOT TOO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cannibalisticapple · 4 years

Text

Okay, so I have some thoughts on Kurikuri’s decision to delete a large number of her fan fics, and on fan fiction as a whole.

For those who don’t know, Kurikuri (@letaizawarest) is a popular fan fiction author with numerous popular Erasermic fics, along with other fandoms. Around the end of May/start of June she deleted a large number of her stories, specifically those that featured either police, or those set in the My Hero Academia universe where they work as Pro Heroes.

To quote her post:

as you may have noticed, roughly half of the fics on my ao3 have been deleted.

i’ve deleted all my fics about police officers. also, after some thought, i also deleted my non-AU bnha fics, because although they might not be “cops” in name, they are law enforcement. i do not want to be a part of the system that glorifies the police.  

at the moment i haven’t deleted other profession AUs and high school era fics, but i will continue to reflect on their relation to the source material. even if you enjoyed the deleted fics, please do not circulate them in other formats (PDFs, EPUBs, etc).  

i also encourage other writers to think about cop fic they’ve written. while it may be fun and escapist for you, it still encourages the idea that antiblack and killer cops are just “bad apples” and that good cops exist. let’s dismantle that system of thought.

I have some very, very mixed feelings on this.

To start: I respect her reasoning, but I don’t agree with it. I fully agree that it’s not just a bunch of “bad apples”, there’s a serious issue with the system and how the police operate in the United States. I’ve always been bothered by how the police let other officers get away with horrible BS, even as a kid, and that rage has only grown as I’ve grown older and found out more about how screwed up it is on every single level.

But the way that last paragraph is written rubs me the wrong way because you can’t paint every single person in an entire career field as unequivocally corrupt, bigoted and all around callous murderers. Good cops DO exist. Plenty of people go into the career hoping to fix things, or just genuinely want to help their community in whatever way they can. But the thing is, they’re fighting a losing battle because the system is working against them. When they DO speak up against the corruption, bigotry, violence and other issues, they tend to get fired and blacklisted from the field. Or sometimes, they get outright murdered and it’s treated as a “suicide.”

A shitty fact of life: sometimes, the people who are more willing to resort to underhanded tactics and willing to turn a blind eye to corruption are the ones who climb up the career ladder furthest. And in the case of the police, it’s deep-rooted enough that it can’t be fixed internally anymore. But that doesn’t make literally every police officer corrupt.

I’m not posting this to make some political point or argument though. I obviously disagree with Kurikuri’s opinion, but I respect it. I can even respect her decision to remove the stories featuring the police, or even the ones heavily focusing on the characters’ jobs as pro heroes. I can see how heroes are just another version of law enforcement, because honestly, they are.

As a writer and a reader, I fully respect that it’s ultimately her choice to delete her stories. It’s not my place to make demands. She’s the one who created it, and as a writer I know the hard work and time that goes into crafting stories, so I believe she has a right in how it’s used and shared. The fact she shared it in the first place was something she didn’t have to do.

But the thing is, she DID share it, which is why I have this conflict.

As a writer, I’ve always believed that fiction can be more powerful than fact.

Fiction can give readers a window into mindsets you’d never imagine before, because you can connect more easily with fictional characters than real people on the news. That’s why Uncle Tom’s Cabin was so critical in the battle against slavery: it didn’t just gave a face to slavery, it let readers experience the characters’ lives directly. People got to see the struggles and suffering firsthand, feel the rising crescendo of hope each time freedom is in reach, and the soul-crushing despair every time that hope gets dashed by outside forces.

Fiction may not always be “true” or even “accurate,” but it can help us understand other people, see them as fellow humans, in ways that nonfiction just can’t. It can evoke emotions, empathy and familiarity in a reader that a news story or biography can’t capture because it draws you directly into their world.

And it’s that part—the part where readers enter this fictional world to connect to characters they’ll never meet—that leads to the other power of fiction that many people overlook:

Fiction has the ability to help readers persevere.

How many people reading this have used books to get away from trouble in their lives? To take a breather from all their anxieties and stress, and dive head-first into this other world for just a moment, where nothing else matters? How many people reading this had their whole lives changed by reading a story where a character’s words resonated with them? Where it helped them come to an epiphany about how to do better, how to be better.

Sometimes, the world is too overwhelming and we need to escape it. That’s the beauty of fiction. It lets us go to a world where our problems just don’t matter. Even if the world in question is worse than our own, it can still be a relief and give us hope because hey, at least we’re not living in 1984 or the Hunger Games, right? Stories are what keeps many people going through the hardest time, what gives them hope that life isn’t utterly hopeless.

And even after a story is finished, whether it’s fan fiction, a book, a show, or any other medium, that story will have a special place in people’s hearts. Many people will go back to those stories years later when they’re faced with immense stress and need a break from the real world, so that they can dive into the world that helped them persevere the last time they felt so bad. Just having a copy of it on hand can be a source of comfort even if you never read it again.

I want to highlight one phrase Kurikuri used in her post to describe how people feel writing stories about police and heroes: "fun and escapist”. That’s honestly so accurate, those stories are escapist, and that is why I’m so conflicted.

Stories about superheroes, while technically revolving around themes of law enforcement, are a form of escapism FROM police corruption.

There’s a reason that superhero comics are so popular in America. Superheroes appeal to a natural desire for justice because as so aptly pointed out, the real world doesn’t always HAVE that justice. It gives an ideal for people to aspire to, a glimpse of what could be, what should be. (Come to think of it, that’s probably why I hate the DC cinematic universe so much, it’s skewed way too much to favor the villains/antagonists and maximize suffering for the good guys.)

Right now, the world is full of more injustice than ever before. I can’t turn on the news without feeling my rage and stress boil over. Every day it gets worse and worse somehow, and I (and many others) genuinely fear that the United States may be heading towards a civil war this November. Donald Trump’s voice alone is enough to make my blood boil at this point.

I, and many others, turn to fan fiction so I can break away from reality because that amount of rage and fear just isn’t healthy.

I don’t have depression, or anxiety, or an abusive family, or a chronic illness. I’m not at risk of being made homeless anytime soon, nor do I need to worry about bills right now or going hungry. I’m a privileged white girl who has barely anything to worry about. What I’m saying is I’m fucking lucky and I know it, but I STILL can’t stand thinking about the state of the world and need to get the fuck away from it to take a breather for my own mental health.

And I also know that many people don’t have that option because their situation is so bad, they NEED to be aware of it at all times.

In the past when writing for other fandoms, I’ve had people tell me my fan fiction was the reason they did not commit suicide.

In my early college years I fell into the creepypasta community and was pretty active in it, especially on deviantArt. I don’t know if that particular fandom’s subject and focus makes it more appealing to teenagers going through rough times or what, but I swear, more than half the people I spoke to suffered from some form of mental illness, abusive or broken family and home situations, bullying, and every other way the world can screw someone over through means beyond their control.

During that time, a few readers left comments that waiting for my stories to update were what kept them going. They didn’t explicitly say that it was the only reason they didn’t kill themselves. It was more just remarks like, “Your writing is the only thing keeping me going.”

I’m not vain enough to believe my stories are so good, it made people decide to continue living JUST to see what happens next. Suicidal thoughts and urges are much more complex than that. But it’s still not something you expect to hear on something you write for fun.

I’ve thought about it a lot over the years, and I’ve come to the conclusion that it probably wasn’t because my stories were "just that good.” I think it was because they needed something to cling to in bleak times. That sometimes at the lowest point where all seems lost, people need just one little thought, just the smallest thing to push away those dark urges before they could fully overwhelm them. Something like, “If I die now, I won’t get to see how that story ends.” It’s such a small thing, but having something to look forward to can be so powerful in fighting off impulsive decisions.

It’s made me hyper-aware of just how powerful writing is.

To me, I see writing as a way of helping others. I give people that option for escape. It’s a large part of why I update on a regular, weekly schedule, and why I published extra chapters when the pandemic got announced and when the riots started. People need that comfort, that little break from reality to just sit and breathe so they can get through the rest of the day. I can’t do much to fix the world, but I can at least give people that.

Right now, people need that escape more than ever.

And deleting the stories is taking that escape away and causing MORE stress.

In times like this, people often turn to the stories they know will help most, and plenty of people in fandoms will first search up their favorite ships. They look for fluff, smut, angst... It helps people feel better to focus on these two people who are obviously in love as they work through their troubles.

Many times, readers will be more drawn to stories in the canon universe than radical AUs set in other universes. That’s how they were introduced to those characters. I myself can enjoy no-power and fantasy AUs sometimes, but what I really crave are how they interact in the canon world because that’s the world and versions of them I want to see the most. By deleting EVERY SINGLE STORY IN THE CANON UNIVERSE, that option was removed.

In many of the stories that were deleted, the characters’ careers were honestly a minor facet of the story. Some used it to establish the setting, such as treating injuries after a patrol. Some just simply used it to explain they work at UA, a school for teaching kids with superpowers. Some just had them work as heroes because it’s set in the canon universe, and never directly show ANTTHING about the work.

I’m not always looking for a story about how being a hero shapes and impacts their lives, and most of those stories that got deleted AREN’T about being a hero. That’s just one piece of their character, it’s far from the focal point. It could honestly be removed from several of them without changing the rest of the story.

I can get wanting to make a political point and I respect that, but by deleting those stories, you’ve taken away a key source of comfort from hundreds, thousands of people. By deleting the stories, you’re making the stress worse.

On Saturday night, I realized several of my favorite stories are suddenly gone. I knew Kurikuri had deleted a bunch of her stories, but I hadn’t realized just how many of them I liked. Some of them I’ve specifically sought out to reread multiple times in the past, never really paying attention to the author. Realizing they’re just gone caused me heavy stress because it made me paranoid about all these other stories I like to reread. I don’t expect those stories to be around forever, but I still didn’t expect them to vanish so suddenly. I never thought I’d need to download them to make sure I’d still be able to read them while the site is still up.

I spent hours searching out specific stories to see if they were written by her, and make sure they’re not gone forever. I have no way of knowing which ones she’d written and deleted because there’s not exactly a list out there anymore. My desperate search for those stories and one in particular (which I still haven’t found) contributed to the lack of sleep I got that night.

And I need to reiterate: I am mentally healthy and have no major stresses in my immediate life. And that’s why I’m hyper-aware of how this stress will affect people who AREN’T as lucky as I am.

If an author decides to delete their stories because they feel the stories themselves push harmful values or themes, fine. If they’re getting harassed, or it reminds them of a bad time in the lives, or they just don’t like that story anymore, okay. I can respect that and accept it.

But these stories were deleted for the EXACT reasons that people will be looking for them now more than ever, and that’s where I draw the line.

This applies to ALL fandoms.

If you as a fan fiction writer have more than, say, 100 kudos on a completed story or one-shot, there’s a good chance people will read and reread your story in stressful times. If you have a reasonably popular story that updates on a regular or even semi-regular basis, there is a chance that someone is using it as a lifeline to have something to look forward to while the rest of their lives go to hell. Maybe not because they specifically love it, but because it gives them something routine.

I want to make it clear that it’s not our job to care for other people’s mental health. Fan fiction writers don’t have an obligation to people, we’re doing it for fun first and foremost. We’re not some sort of saviors, and we shouldn’t think of ourselves that way or we can honestly screw people up worse. We’re not obligated to write these stories JUST for our fans.

At most, our stories are sources of support and comfort for readers. A little break from reality. If writing a story is causing you more stress than enjoyment, stop. Fan fiction, and all other fan media and stories in general, is ultimately created for the creator’s enjoyment more than anything.

Your own mental health comes first. Don’t set yourself on fire to keep other people warm.

But with how utterly fucked and unfair the world is right now, people need those stories now more than ever. So if you’ve got a story out there that’s fairly popular, please, please, PLEASE be mindful of your readers before deciding to delete it. Now is the absolute last time people need more stress trying to find a single story. And if you’re going to delete it, maybe give readers a heads up so that those who need it or have some powerful attachment to it for all the reasons I’ve discussed here can download a copy for their own personal use.

Don’t hurt your readers to make a point.

#fanfic #fan fiction #fan fic #fandom #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia fanfic #kurikuri #letaizawarest #erasermic #maizawa #writing #stories #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #tw suicide #superhero #superheroes

55 notes · View notes

megaguardain · 4 years

Text

Achievement Hunter Crew: The Bat-Heist, Prologue and Chapter One

UPDATED

After the whole thing with James Ryan ‘the asshole guy’ Haywood, I’ve written him completely out of the story. He doesn’t exist in this universe anymore. Also, I’ve moved the timeline so character’s have changed superhero identities.

Introduction

In a world where superheroes have been around since the early 1900s, no one just robs banks anymore. Everyone’s gotta be taking over the world or enslaving the human race or whatever. But this crew, they’re just wanna rob and steal, not for the money. Just for bragging rights.

Earth-96 is a world where DC characters premiere when they first appear in the comics and age in real time. Batman has been patrolling Gotham since 1939 and the mantle has passed from Bruce Wayne to others since his passing.

Prologue

Earth-96, 2019. Tyler, Texas.

“The Batman was ‘instrumental’ in the arrest of the Joker earlier tonight, a spokesman from the GCPD told us,” the newswoman on the TV said. Shots of a battered Joker, giggling to himself, being loaded into an armored police van while Batman spoke to the police. He was actually shorter than the officers he spoke to.

Batman pressed something on his gauntlet and there was a sound of a roaring engine as something giant barreled toward him. As it got close, the Batman leapt into the air and grabbed onto the giant vehicle.

“Was that a new car?” a newsman asked as the cameraman caught the rear of the Batmobile turning down an alley, “Or did the Flash just pick him up?”

“It probably was a new car. How many has he got now?”

“Probably as many Robins he’s had,” the newswoman commented as she shuffled the papers in front of her, “Up next, who is this new Green Lantern?” the picture shifted to an amateur shot of a Latino woman in a Green Lantern uniform, “And can we trust her?”

The TV turned off. The man watching it put down the remote and sat up, stroking his lower jaw while in deep thought. He wore a black two-piece suit over a white dress shirt. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the million tattoos on his arms. After reaching some kind of conclusion in his head, the man smiled and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts and selected one labelled “Michael”.

The phone rang as he put it to his ear.

“‘Sup Geoff,” Michael answered.

“‘Sup Michael, listen,” Geoff said, “I got an idea for something,”

“What kinda something?”

“A big something,”

“We heisting?” Michael asked.

“Oh yeah. It’s a big one, we’re going to need everyone on this,”

“What’re we stealing? Cash? Gold?”

“A car,”

There was a moment of awkward silence before Micahel asked, “Just a car?”

“‘Just a car?’,” Geoff sarcastically asked back, “Just get everyone and meet me at the safehouse,”

“Ya gotta give me something more than that Geoff,” Michael insisted, “Alfredo probably won’t show up over ‘just a car’,”

“We’re heisting the Batman’s car,” Geoff dropped the bomb.

“Shit,” Michael chuckled after another moment of silence, “Yep. Alfredo’s going to love that. That really isn’t just a car,”

“Told ya,” Geoff smiled, amused with himself, “We’ll go over the details at the safehouse,”

“A’ight. See ya soon,” Michael said.

“See ya soon,” Geoff said, ending the call. Geoff poured himself a glass of whiskey as he looked out the window, “This’ll be one for the books,”

Chapter 1:Unpredictable in a Predictable Way

Earth-96. Gotham City, New Jersey.

The new Batmobile had great soundproofing. Batman could hardly hear the sound of the engine from inside the car. The car sped through the streets of Gotham, everything inside was tinted red from the interior lights. He piloted the car over the Robert Kane Memorial Bridge, leaving the city lights glaring through the smog behind him.

“Dim exterior lights,” Batman commanded, his voice distorter still active. The external lights on the Batmobile dimmed, providing almost as much visibility as if they were turned completely off, “Engine, silent run,” Batman commanded. The engine of the Batmobile fell silent, even from outside the car it barely made a sound.

Batman’s muscle memory expertly piloted the car down a hidden path off the side of the road, towards Wayne Manor. It rolled down and around, along a cliff face on the coast to a cave entrance that was hidden by a waterfall. Inside the cave was dimly lit by lights on either side of a paved track. The Batmobile followed the track into the cave.

After minute or two of following the dimly lit track, the cave opened up into a large cavern. There were multiple platforms bolted to the walls of the cavern, connected by catwalks, wires and elevators. The track the Batmobile led to one of the lowest platforms, it looked like a shelving unit with multiple cubbies that held various bat themed vehicles. From older Batmobiles to the Batplane, Batcyles, a lot of bat themed vehicles. Batman parked the Batmobile he was driving in the empty spot on the Vehicle Platform and got out of the car.

“How’s the new car?” a voice above called down. Batman looked up to see a man with black hair leaning on the railing of the platform above looking down at him. The man wore a red hoodie with a dark t-shirt with Batman’s logo on it.

“It pulls to the left,” Batman said as he approached the nearby elevator, “And the seat is too big,” he added as he stepped into the elevator. The elevator had no music as it took him up to the higher platform.

“Well, you’ll break her in. And maybe grow into the seat too,” the man teased. He was a whole six inches taller than Batman’s five and a half feet stature.

“I have never understood why you refer to the cars as ‘her’ Tim,” Batman said, ignoring the joke about his height and walking toward the fifteen foot, multi-screen computer on the platform, “Joker’s back in Arkham,” Batman said as he sat down in the large chair in front of the computer. He looked tiny in the chair.

“And his gang is already rioting. Wanting to strike down the government hierarchy,” Tim explained.

“What about Sionis or Ogilvy?” Batman asked as the computer displayed the profiles of Black Mask and Emperor Penguin.

“The False Face Society has been growing. With Joker’s latest stunt, they probably won’t stop,” Tim reported, “Ogilvy seems content with running business from the Iceberg Lounge. No one’s going to try anything big for a while,”

“What about Jason and his gang?” Batman asked, taking his cowl off. Showing that Batman wasn’t actually a man, but an Asian woman with short black hair.

“Cass, I know Jason isn’t your favorite person, but he’s on our side,” Tim sighed.

“He is a criminal, he kills people,” Cass scowled. The computer displayed information about the Red Hood Gang, run by the formerly dead, formerly Robin, Jason Todd.

“So did Bruce originally!” Tim countered.

“Not the same,”

“How?”

“Bruce was wrong and he realized that when he adopted Dick,” Cass explained.

“Well, just think of him as a neccessary evil,” Tim sighed, walking away.

Cass just stared at the computer screens as they continued to scroll through the different gangs of Gotham City and their territories around Gotham. The screens shifted to reports of the Joker Gang protesting outside Arkham Asylum, calling to free Joker.

The next night,

“Everybody on the ground!” a man wearing a potato-brown mask with a hand drawn smile shouted as he fired his rifle into the ceiling of the bank. He wore a brown leather jacket over a kevlar vest and t-shirt.

“Let’s go! Give us the money!” a man wearing a hockey mask that had a pattern with stickers from different tourist traps from around America shouted, tossing a duffle bag to the teller behind the counter. He wore a black two-piece suit under a kevlar vest and held a shotgun to a teller.

A third man wearing a BMX helmet, a Hawaiian shirt under a kevlar vest and white shorts, kept a shotgun trained on a security guard, “Don’t,” he growled when the guard moved.

“I knew it was a bad idea to extend hours into the evening,” the guard grumbled.

“Just load up the cash, we’re not interested in being murderers,” the one in the hockey mask said. The teller loaded bundles of money into the duffle bag.

“Give me the dye packs,” the one in the potato mask ordered another teller.

“Wh-what?” the teller asked.

The man in the potato mask punched the bulletproof glass that separated him and the teller, it shattered into pieces and possibly made several bystanders wet themselves as they screamed, “Dye packs,” the man ordered again, aiming his rifle at the teller, “Now,”

The teller quickly gathered and placed the dye packs on the counter in front of the potato masked man. The robber put the dye packs in his jacket pockets.

“How we doin’ Alpha?” he asked.

“I got the money!” the tourist hockey masked man shouted, taking the filled duffle bag from the teller, “Let’s go!”

The three bank robbers made their way to the front door, they each took cover on either side of the door frame. A sign behind them said ‘Welcome to Gotham City Trust, your money is safe with us!’.

“GCPD should be here any second now,” the BMX helmet man said.

“Good,” the potato masked man said, tossing the dye packs to his partners. The crew had to wait for less than a minute before they heard the sirens. The sirens stopped as they came close to the bank.

“GCPD!” they could hear shouted at them over a loudspeaker, “Put your weapons down and come out with your hands up!”

“They asked us so nicely Bravo, whaddya think?” the potato maked man asked.

“We should give them a gift for being so nice, Charlie,” the man wearing the BMX helmet suggested.

Alpha, Bravo and Charlie opened the doors of the bank and, without emerging too much from cover, threw the dye packs at the police cars parked outside. They landed with audible thuds that the robbers could hear from the bank entrance.

“Grenades!” one of the officers shouted.

“Go! Go! Go!” Alpha commanded. The robbers ran out the door and to the right, travelling along the side of the bank and away from the cops.

“Wait, it’s not a gre-” the dye packs exploded, covering the squad cars and nearby officers in hot red paint and creating a red smoke that flew into the sky.

“See ya losers!” Charlie shouted back at the police as he continued to flee.

The crew crossed the street, avoiding the oncoming traffic that sounded their horns at them, they came into a small alleyway that had an armored four-door car waiting for them. But before they could get close to the car, a shuriken in the shape of a pair of bird wings embedded itself in the car’s hood.

“You guys new ‘round here?” a young voice asked. The crew looked and saw an African-American man on the nearby fire escape, holding two yellow escrima sticks connected by yellow wire. He had yellow helmet with a black visor in the shape of a bat. He wore a yellow and black suit with a black reflective bat symbol on his chest, “Ya’ll should just give-”

The robbers just started firing at him. The young man pressed himself back against the building while the robbers slowly made their way close to the car. Bravo entered first in the driver’s seat and started the car, Alpha sat in the passenger’s seat while Charlie got into the back. Bravo sped out of the alleyway before the young man could stop them.

“We got the Signal’s attention, won’t be long ‘til he shows up,” Charlie said.

“You know what to do if that happens,” Alpha said.

Bravo drove the car away from the bank, several police cars with lights and sirens blaring chased after them. As they weaved through the slower traffic, Charlie rolled down the window next to him and started blind firing back at the cops.

“So, how’s it feel to be back in your home state Charlie?” Bravo asked casually.

“Heh. It’s alright. Never been to Gotham,” Charlie said just as casually, “Always wanted to see the Bat with my own eyes,”

“Well, if this goes right, you’re going to,” Alpha said. Bravo slipped through a hole in a police blockade on the Madison Bridge that led into Old Gotham. As the crew came off the bridge, a shadow passed over them.

“Was that-?” Charlie asked, just before Batman landed on their hood, “Yep! Yes it was!”

“Pull over!” the vigilante ordered.

“You want me to pull over? Okay!” Bravo said, jerking the wheel to one side, causing the car to spin out as Charlie pulled his upper half out of the window. Charlie fired his rifle at Batman, the dark knight flipped onto the roof and kicked the gun out of his hand.

“Shit!” Charlie cried.

Batman pulled Charlie out of the car, but he punched Batman in the gut. They both flew off the car as it sped away, a few police cars shot past them to chase after the other robbers while others stopped to barricade the street. Charlie stood up and pulled off his ruined potato mask, his face was hardly scratched despite having kissed the street at almost seventy miles per hour.

“You’re shorter than I expected,” he commented when Batman stood up.

“Give up,” Batman ordered.

“No, fuck you,” Charlie smirked, putting his fists up in a fighting stance. Charlie ran at Batman, throwing a right hook but Batman was already dodging, he grabbed Charlie’s arm and restrained it behind his back.

“Your friends left you behind,”

“Yeah well,” Charlie groaned, “Still gotta job to do,” he twisted around and tried to punch Batman with his free hand, but Batman caught it and restrained it too.

Charlie shrugged off Batman’s grip, surprising the vigilante, before spinning around to slug the dark knight, but only grazed his bat-ears. Batman struck a space under Charlie’s arm and robber’s arm fell limp. Charlie looked at his unusable arm and gave a one armed shrug, he charge at Batman again. Just as he got close enough to punch Batman, he realized he was flat on his back with Batman standing above him. The last thing he remembers before blacking out was Batman’s fist.

“Cass,” The Signal’s voice came over the radio in Batman’s ear.

“Go ahead Signal,” Batman said as he watched the police take custody of the bank robber.

“Sorry, they got away,” The Signal said, “I lost track of them and they switched cars before I found them again,”

“Understood, we’ll find them,” Batman assured.

Alpha and Bravo drove a beat up hippie van to a warehouse on one of Gotham’s many docks. They had removed their masks already, Bravo sporting a full beard of reddish-brown hair and glasses. Alpha having a handlebar mustache and stubble.

“You sure Michael’s the one that should’ve been caught, Geoff?” Bravo asked as they pulled into the warehouse. It was pretty sparse inside, not much in terms of equipment or lighting. Two people sat at a crate, one was on her Nintendo Switch playing some game, the other was cleaning a sniper rifle.

“I’m sure Jack. He can buy the time Gavin and Trevor need, and get out without much trouble,” Geoff explained as he put the looted money on a crate they were using as a table, “Everything is going according to plan,”

#dc comics #earth-96 #achievement hunter #geoff ramsey #michael jones #batman #tim drake #cassandra cain #joker #robin #duke thomas #jack patillo #if you don't like who i made batman #then that's a personal problem #fuck ryan haywood

3 notes · View notes

themyskira · 6 years

Text

Wonder Woman #49

Previously in James Robinson’s sad spiral into senility: Wonder Woman accidentally summoned +~teh D4rK g0dz~+, a group of alternate-universe Greek Gods who are allegedly extremely dark and gritty and terrifying. ROLL CALL!

Mob God: goddess of chaos, shit version of Eris

The God With No Name: loser who walks around with a sheet on his head

Savage Fire: auditioned for the part of sexy Satan, was disappointed to be cast as a war god instead; crotch is literally on fire

Karnell: evil love god who is ~tortured~ because insert generic fridging story here

King Best: calls himself that with a straight face; giant stone Darkseid knockoff

Written as devastatingly evil heavy-hitters, they mostly just succeed at invoking intense second-hand embarrassment.

Now, after being AWOL for an entire issue, Diana is back and ready to take the fight to the Dark Gods. It’s time for a showdown!

…ooooorrrr we could just fart around for twenty pages and end on the most obvious fake-out imaginable.

First off, we need to talk about Stephen Segovia’s cover because WHAT.

Segovia is often praised for his dynamic, action-oriented art, and it’s not necessarily undeserved. Action is clearly his strength, and he excels at fast-paced fight scenes.

But he also has a tendency to deliver pages like this one, or like the splash page in WW #46, where no one part of the (invariably female) character’s anatomy seems to connect to any other part. Absurd boobs-and-butt action shots are nothing new in comics, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen such egregious examples.

Look at Sexy Satan Lady: what is happening to her arse in that scene? Her left shoulder seems to have slipped halfway down her torso, and god only knows where her hips have fucked off to. Diana’s upper torso, on the other hand, seems to be directly attached to her hips, and she’s missing half her left leg.

But moving onto the bad joke that is this entire issue.

Diana and Jason are preparing to take on Best Buy, who seems less interested in transforming the Earth into a glorious hellscape than he is in playing out his monster movie fantasies by making himself giant and stomping on houses.

I’m serious. When the Biggest of Bads eats the entire Justice League, giving him access to unimaginable power, and he chooses to use that power to animate an impractically large and stupidly-taxing-to-operate body, enabling him to go on a slow-moving rampage through DC, I can only assume that his motive is ‘RAAAAA LOOK AT ME I’M GAMERA!!’ Because he could legitimately have used that power to consume the entire continental US in flames if that was what he wanted to do.

Steve radios in, and Diana instructs him to give the readers an exposition dump. She actually flags it, as if she’s a news anchor interviewing a reporter on the scene: “What about the other gods? Where in the world are they and what kind of damage are they causing?”

So Steve tells us who the other Dark Gods are, where in the world they are and what kind of damage they are causing.

James Robinson has been professionally writing comics for almost thirty years. I think it’s past time somebody told him to stop.

Sexy Satan Lady is inciting all the nations of South America to war.

Mobglob has the population of Britain in a rapturous thrall, which seems a little outside her ‘chaos and rioting’ wheelhouse. People are just staring into the sky, not eating or drinking or noticing anything around them. Steve says that children, babies and the elderly are already beginning to sicken and die from dehydration and exhaustion, which is strange, since this has only been going on for a good ten minutes.

Kandy Krush has the entire population of China consumed in a violent orgy, and the Horse With No Name is inciting Russians to suicide.

“And none of this includes the acts of madness and violence happening everywhere else in the world just from the Dark Gods’ presence on Earth,” says Steve, finishing his news report.

Remember, aside from Steve’s second-hand updates, we’ve seen no evidence of the Dark Gods’ presence infecting the world with this wide-scale hysteria and violence, aside from two people losing their shit at Diana.

Robinson tries to correct this now: over three pages, he shows us snapshots of four individuals in each of the four regions under assault from the Dark Gods, as their ordinary lives are swept up and consumed by the violent, chaotic supernatural forces that are slowly reshaping the world.

It’s a familiar device, particularly in horror comics, and the best writers can use it to truly chilling effect — think Alan Moore in Swamp Thing, Neil Gaiman in Sandman.

Robinson is no Moore and he’s no Gaiman. His is simply a by-the-numbers effort, one that in illustrates the chaos on the ground in technical terms, without imparting any particular sense of horror or empathy for the characters.

Panel 1: Character is going about their ordinary life.

Panel 2: Character comes in contact with the Dark God’s influence.

Panel 3: Character is consumed.

It’s weak, bloodless writing that only serves to rehash the two-page infodump we just got from Steve.

Diana and Jason take on Emperor Awesome.

“This planet will be unlike anything you could ever image after we’re done with it. Your hell. My heaven. Earth first and then the universe. Remade in horror.”

Again, so far you’ve done nothing but squander the power you’ve harvested on living out a kaiju fantasy, so I’m less than terrified.

Diana fluffs up her air, pushes in her neck, thrusts out her boobs and attacks tits-first.

“That’s it, brother! Hit him hard with the wind power of our father, Zeus…”

WHO TALKS LIKE THIS?!

This isn’t just lazy writing, it’s downright contemptuous. Do you think your readers are so absurdly dense that they’ve somehow forgotten that Jason has wind powers, which he inherited from Zeus, who is his father, and Diana’s as well because they’re twins? Because that’s the only justifiable reason to include such a stilted, pedantic line of dialogue in the middle of a Big Boss battle.

Jason doesn’t need reminding, and Diana’s not going to waste both breath and precious seconds. All she needs is three words: ‘Jason! Wind blast!’

(I’d argue she shouldn’t be saying anything at all here, since generally announcing each of your attacks to a larger and stronger opponent is a surefire way to get flattened, but then again, Jason is incompetent and in need of direction.)

There’s an unintentionally comical sequence in which Jason uses his wind power to lift Sir Excellent into the air and he and Diana manoeuvre the apparently unprotesting giant over the Atlantic Ocean, before dropping him in.

Thus, the scariest and most evil god that ever is or was is rendered temporarily helpless by a strong wind.

Obviously he won’t be out of the fight for long, because Robinson is nothing if not predictable.

In the meantime, Jason goes to have another crack at fighting Sexy Satan Lady. She gloats and he charges at her, while silently begging for Athena to give him the wisdom to best use the power of Dolos — Dolos being the personified spirit of trickery and cunning deception. Basically, he’s telling us that he’s planning to deceive the Dark Gods. Keep this in mind.

Diana has joined Steve for another multi-page infodump.

“We’re getting ready to deploy the Suicide Squad — multi-team, biggest version ever, actually. Plus the Titans and any Justice League reservists I can get my hands on… the trouble is, the gods keep turning the heroes, making them as insane as everyone else. The Ray, Zatanna, Damage, Beaumont and Sunny Jim in Britain, to name a few. The list goes into the hundreds. That, or as with the Justice League, they get absorbed by the gods who are made all the stronger for it.”

Hey, you know what’s more fun than watching superheroes team up to fight a world-ending threat??? Having a secondary character describe that happening from a safe distance!

Robinson has ample page-space to show us these things. The amount of time he spends each issue dicking around, rehashing things we’ve already been told and having characters deliver unnecessarily long infodumps, he could very easily devote to scenes like the ones Steve is describing here: Amanda Waller deploying a last-ditch, multi-team Suicide Squad. Other heroes and teams coming up against the Dark Gods and being overwhelmed. Magic users being consumed by the Dark Gods’ bloodthirsty and intoxicating energies. Heavy-hitters being made to turn against their own, or simply being devoured without laying a single blow.

And if Robinson is too lazy or too incompetent to write those scenes, then the very least he can do is shut the fuck up about it, instead of having Steve describe what sounds like a much more interesting comic.

Steve and Diana get word that all of the Dark Gods just vanished. (Actually, they get word that all of the Dark God just vanished, because nobody is editing this comic.) Then all five are sighted in the skies over Paraguay, where Jason had gone to fight Sexy Satan Lady. Diana rushes to Jason’s rescue aaaaaaand…

Jason: Looking for me, sister?! I have something for you— the lightning of our father combined with the fire of Hephaestus. Diana: Jason! NO! They can’t have driven you mad! I thought you’d be stronger— Jason: Mad? Why, sister, I’m saner than I’ve ever been. I see everything clearly. The Greek gods are nothing… ALL PRAISE THE DARK GODS.

In fairness, on its face this is a perfectly plausible twist, because Jason has continually shown himself to be weak-willed, incompetent and selfish — and has a track record of being tricked into the service of supervillain conquerors with only the lightest bit of prodding.

But since we’ve already been as good as told that this is a fake-out (two pages ago, when Jason announced his intention to deceive the Dark Gods), this cliffhanger just feels like more padding. There’s so little substance to this story, I can’t believe it’s gone on for this long.

Fortunately, next issue is the final one of this garbage fire of a run. I’m hoping desperately for Jason to die in the final battle, but I’m willing to settle for banished out of reach.

However, I’m pleased to note that my Jason’s-magic-armour-doesn’t-do-anything theory remains intact.

#the james robinson shitshow #comics talk

2 notes · View notes

heckyeahstevetrevor · 7 years

Note

Surprise Steve Trevor in Justice League 13! Was not expecting him at all.

OK, realizing that I’m like 3 months late with this, but I didn’t get around to reading this issue until earlier this week and *now* your reaction makes sense. Steve Trevor starring in a random DC comics issue! It’s like the early days of New52! But also, WHAT happened here.

For some context for those of you who didn’t read the issue, Eclipso has possessed Max Lord and is now wreaking havoc on the rest of the world. Justice League #13 is a filler issue which starts with Steve Trevor updating the receptionist on his weekend plans of PIZZA AND CARTOONS:

This is so cute and warm and fuzzy! But obviously this doesn’t last long because Eclipso!Superman hurtles into the White House. Oops. And then Aquaman goes cray cray! And then the Lanterns! and Flash! and then that super nice receptionist!

Homegirl gets Eclipso’d and bites him on the leg, and so Steve turns around AND SHOOTS HER IN THE HEAD. Uhhh, ok. He then looks around and realizes that all of the geniuses who work in the office are also possessed, and they throw out lots of awkward phrases like, “Steve, I want to boil you alive! Does your blood taste good? Can I gouge out your beautiful blue eyes?” Natch, Steve runs out of there.

Out on the streets, everyone is Eclipso’d too! There are riots and fires and murders and a charming panel of an Eclipso’d lady who ate her dog. Steve is like “Oh dang, gotta make sure my fam is OK,” so he keeps pushing through. For a sec he thinks he’s catching a break before–

#Awkward

Steve finally makes it home, only to realize that his precious baby nephew and niece got– you guessed it–Eclipso’d, and as a result they gleefully killed their mother. His sister.

The nursery rhyme is an especially morbid touch. Steve is like “I can’t unsee this disgusting horrifying thing,” so he decides to SHOOT HIS NIECE AND NEPHEW but before that can happen he realizes that this was all an illusion and that Eclipso is in his head. Eclipso is like “Man, it was tough possessing you but now that I know what drives you I can take you too!” And so he does. End of story.

I don’t get it, but that’s okay. The art in this issue (Scot Eaton and Wayne Faucher) is bangin’ and Tim Seeley likes Steve Trevor well enough; I think he’ll be just as affectionate when writing that solo issue coming out in a few months. After all, he did give this Very Important Panel:

Heh heh heh. Thanks for thinking of me!

#steve trevor #justice league #wonder woman #eclipso #tim seeley #scot eaton #wayne faucher #ask #twoquickdeaths

27 notes · View notes

thievinghippo · 7 years

Text

Fic Update: Pragmatic Dreams (11/??)

Fandom: swtor

Chapter Title: A Beginning (Read on Ao3!)

Pairing: Lana/Beniko/female Jedi Knight

Rating: Teen

Summary: When Darth Marr’s flagship is destroyed, the galaxy mourns the loss of a leader of the Jedi Order. And Lana Beniko mourns the loss of her lover. But when secrets are uncovered, Lana realizes that the only way to save the galaxy might just be to tear it apart, all for the woman she loves.

“So if you’re not a Knight, what are you?” Koth asked as he took a sip of his beer. Lana couldn’t help but notice that his other hand stayed in his lap, probably close to his weapon. They clearly weren’t trusting each other yet. Understandable, given the circumstances. After all, her lightsaber was within easy reach.

“How much do you know about the people that you’ve conquered?” Lana asked.

Koth shrugged. “Not all that much, honestly. Someone out there killed our Emperor, though. So can’t say I like any of them too much.”

It took all of Lana’s control not to shudder. She had to remember to that the common Zakuulan, Valkorian was practically a god. Of course they would be upset that he had been killed by an Outlander’s hand. His assassination still didn’t make sense, though. Not if Maebry was the feared Outlander. Maebry had confronted Vitiate twice before and each time she had tried to redeem the man, bring him into the light, kicking and screaming if need be. Why would she have killed him this time? The only thing Lana could think of was for self-defense, yet that didn’t even add up.

“Yes, well-” Lana stopped herself. Going on about the nature of Valkorian and Vitiate would be an easy way to alienate her new contact. Best not to speak of that for now. “So there are two main sides: the Imperial Empire and the Republic. Each side has their own Force users, different from the Knights and Scions, but we all use the same Force.”

“And what are you?” Koth asked.

More time passed than Lana liked before she finally answered, “I am Sith.”

Was she though? She had no master. No apprentices. She was reviled by the Dark Council. Worse, Lana hoped to help both the Imperial Empire and the Republic. Wanting to help the Republic was treason in the Imperial Empire’s mind. Could she truthfully call herself Sith any longer? But she pushed those thoughts aside for now. This absolutely was not the time for self-reflection.

“They’re the bad ones, right?” Koth asked, not looking nearly as enthused as he did a moment ago.

Lana folded her hands on the table, trying hard not to sigh. “That’s a very simplistic viewpoint,” she said slowly. “Sith focus on the dark side of the Force, which we believe is more powerful than the light side. That doesn’t make us evil.”

“Didn’t mean to offend,” he said before taking another sip.

“No offense taken,” Lana said. Somehow she managed not to launch into a complex explanation of the intricacies of the Force, which she was want to do when confronted with ignorance. Time and place, she reminded herself. This was neither. “As I’m sure you can imagine, I want to protect my people. I want to protect the galaxy from…” She lingered off, hoping Koth would take the bait.

Koth put down his beer. “I get that. Arcann’s become a damn tyrant. Zakuul is better than- Than what it’s become,” he said, leaning forward as he rested his forearms on the table.

Lana couldn’t help but notice that both hands were out of his lap now. The first sign of trust. She could work with that. “Sounds like there’s a story there.”

“Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “Got to start somewhere, right? We both know we’re going to trying to find out everything we can about the other once we go our separate ways. There are some things I’d rather you hear from me.”

Almost everything he said since they met had caused her to become more and more intrigued. Lana absolutely planned on sending his name to Darmas to find out more. But for Koth to admit the same, well, it impressed her. And Lana was not easily impressed. “A fellow pragmatist. Alright, I’m listening.”

“You do any sort of basic holonet search on me and you’ll find that I’m a wanted man. Treason,” Koth said, sounding bitter. “Used to be part of the Zakuulan military. A captain. I was given an order I just couldn’t follow. My crew couldn’t, either.

“So you deserted instead of obeying,” Lana said, taking a sip of her drink. The citrus drink had far too much alcohol; she’d have to take her time. The last thing she needed was to lose her senses because of drink right now.

“Yeah, we did,” Koth said. “Hardest damn decision of my life. I am Zakuul through and through. Growing up, I didn’t think there was anything I wouldn’t do for the Eternal Empire. Turns out I was wrong. Hard lesson to learn.” Lana looked down at the table and reached out though the Force, trying to get a better sense of his mind. “I can feel that, you know.”

She looked up at once, blinking. “You’re Force sensitive.”

Koth grinned. “Nah, not really. Just enough to give me hope when I was a kid that I might be a Knight some day. That never happened, so I joined the military instead. Was one of the few human captains left in the military.”

“I’ve never understood how the Zakuulan military can have such a reliance on droids. Yes, they’re cheaper, but the amount of flexibility and creativity they must lose is astonishing,” Lana said.

“Ah, but droids do one very important thing,” Koth said bitterly. “They follow orders. That order I didn’t follow? Was told to fire into a mob of civilians until they stopped rioting.” He ran a hand through his hair. “We had starved them out. They just wanted food and we had it all. I couldn’t even blame them.”

Maebry would like him, a voice whispered in her head. Maebry would trust him.

Since when did Lana make her choices based on whether or not her lover would approve? Since you met her, the traitorous voice said, louder this time. Lana thought back to some of the choices she had made, such as returning Master Surro to the Jedi or traveling with teeseven. Maybe the voice was right.

“It sounds like you arrived at the right decision,” Lana said, as she attempted to collect her thoughts. Her focus needed to be on Koth at the moment, not Maebry and the Jedi’s influence on her life. Recalling their earlier conversation, she added, “I take it this Senya is attempting to bring you to justice for your crimes?”

He scowled, revealing some wrinkles around his eyes. “Yeah,” he said. “If you could call it that. I don’t know if you noticed, but this place is Knight free, and we need to keep it that way. Any Knight finds us? Arcann will turn the place into paste.”

“If they find Asylum, it won’t be because of me,” Lana promised. “This place is far too valuable a resource.” She meant it. Here was a place close enough to Zakuul where she could easily meet her contacts. But now it was time to take a risk. “Are you actively fighting against Arcann?”

“Hells, no,” Koth said with a snort. “Right now? Right now my crew and I are just trying to survive. I’ve got a crew of twelve that depend on me to take care of them. Fighting Arcann? That’s a luxury we can’t afford.” He started to take a sip of his drink, but stopped with the glass halfway to his mouth. It almost looked comical. “Why you asking?”

Lana took a breath, feeling a slight ripple in the Force. She had reached a crossroads, she was sure of it. Now she simply had to decide which road to walk down. Easier said than done, of course. Her mind lingered on Maebry for a moment and Lana hoped her lover would approve of her choice. “Because I want to fight him,” she said, hearing the edge of steel in her voice. “And I want you to help.”

“We don’t get a lot of visitors on the ship,” Koth said, sounding apologetic.

The main hallway of the ship was cluttered with crates and containers, leaving hardly any room to move. Lana walked behind Koth, ignoring the looks from the crew as they walked past open doors. More than one person actually started following them, which made Lana almost feel trapped, something she did not appreciate. “Please don’t worry on my account,” she said.

Koth led her into a cargo bay of some sort, which seemed to be used more as a recreation room. There were exercise machines and a rack of free weights. In one corner, a card table stood. Lana even noticed a couple of hammocks swinging from a makeshift beams.

Lana recognized the woman with the blue hair and gaudy rings on her fingers. Tora, if she remembered correctly. The woman stood there, hand on the blaster on her hip, her mouth agape. “Um, so you wanna fill me in, Captain? Cause last I remember, you and blondie were about ready to kill each other.”

“Got to keep up with the times, Tora,” Koth said with a laugh. “That was so last hour. Now she’s our employer.” The word employer caught his crew’s attention. Koth walked over to a sound system of some sort and pressed a button on the wall console. “Everyone to the crew room. Even you third shifters who are sleeping right now.”

Koth walked back up to Lana, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against a cargo container. “Would you believe that Tora once had black hair? Always up in regulation bun. First thing she did when we deserted was dye her hair.”

“I’m not getting much of a military sense from any of them, to be honest,” Lana said. She had been so sure when she and Koth talked in the cantina. Now seeing his crew and the general disarray, she was beginning to doubt. And Lana did not like to doubt.

Shrugging, Koth said, “Yeah, well, we’ve been on the run for more than six months. I’ve been a little lax in discipline. Not gonna apologize for that.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to,” Lana said.

“So why we got some hotshot Sith on board?” Tora asked, her hand still on her blaster. At Lana’s look of surprise, she added, “What? You don’t got facial recognition software? I’ve got an app on my holopad. I’ll send you the link.”

Koth just rolled his eyes. “Just wait until everyone’s here.

“Yeah, you know I’m not so good at that,” Tora said with a frown. She turned her attention to Lana. “So it true you can kill someone with your mind?”

Deciding to indulge in a little fun, Lana began to stare at Tora, not blinking once. Less than five seconds passed before Tora moved behind a crate, so Lana couldn’t see her any longer. “Shit, just stop looking at me, okay?” Tora called out.

“Nice,” Koth said under his breath. “You’re gonna fit in just fine here.”

A woman stumbled into the room, wearing a robe and rubbing her eyes. Lana guessed that this was one of the third shifters Koth mentioned. “That’s everyone,” Koth said, standing up straight. “This is Lana Beniko. She’s hired us for a scouting job.”

The idea had come to Lana as she and Koth were in the cantina. While she might have told Theron she had plenty of time, the time she did have could be used much more productively than scouting planets. Koth had a crew, and they were willing to do the work. If he could just find her a couple of potential planets, Lana could then go visit them herself. And they weren’t asking for much in terms of compensation. Mainly provisions, which Lana could certainly afford.

“Scouting, huh?” The man who had been with Koth and Tora on Asylum spoke up. “Not the most exciting job in the world, but at least it’s honest.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Koth said with a grin. “She’s fighting Arcann.”

The undercurrent of the room changed at once, an energy Lana recognized. Anger. These people were furious at their Emperor, and she would be able to use that to her advantage. And if she found this crew, there might be others out there. Even more people that were willing to stand up and fight.

This wasn’t an army, or anything close. One crew of former Zakuulan military officers and enlisted members wouldn’t topple an empire. But it was a start. It was hope. Lana needed as much as she could find these days.

“Easier said than done,” a woman with dark hair said, her arms crossed.

Koth raised his hands. “Look, this isn’t going to happen overnight. But if there’s going to be some sort of push back against Arcann, I want to be there from the get go. Pretty sure all of you would like to be there, too.” Koth sat down on one of the crates, resting his forearms on his knees. “So as far as I’m concerned. This is win-win. We scout, trying to find a planet for a base of operations, and we get enough food to eat while we do so. If anyone has any objections, now’s the time. I’m listening.”

Lana waited, knowing to anyone watching, she looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. Weight on one leg, with her arms casually crossed over her chest. It was a calculated look so she wouldn’t seem like she cared one way or the other if the crew agreed to the plan. But Lana did. Very much so. The crew spoke with murmurs she couldn’t understand.

After a moment, though, Tora stepped up, holding out her hand to Lana. “Let’s find you a planet.”

“So you really trust this Koth guy?” Theron asked.

Lana could tell Theron wasn’t pleased. She understood, she did. She just went out an made an alliance without even warning him. This was the right call, though, she was absolutely sure of it. “I do,” she said quietly. “To be honest, meeting Koth felt much like when I met you, on Manaan.”

Theron let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “Manaan seems like ages ago, doesn’t it? Still sort of amazed that you had the guts to walk up to an SIS agent and simply offer your help.”

That had been a dark day. An unworthiness had settled over Lana that day, the day she arrived on Manaan after following Darth Arkous. When she had realized he had done so much without her knowledge… Hopefully the incompetence she felt that day would never be repeated. But that was also the day she met Maebry for the first time, so she couldn’t call it all bad.

“It really does. A lifetime, almost,” Lana said, picking up her drink and swirling around the ice cubes. She didn’t want to drink, not at the moment, but the cantinas on Asylum were the type where people noticed when someone didn’t have a drink in front of them.

“Well, it’s not like I can fault your taste in potential allies,” Theron said, raising his glass in a mock toast. “Give me what you have on the guy, though. I’ll have Balkar run it through the SIS database.”

“I’ll be sending it to Sith Intelligence as well,” Lana admitted. “There’s nothing wrong with caution.” Unlike Maebry, Lana didn’t have an abundance of trust to throw around. But that was one of things that both infuriated and endeared her to the Jedi. “But I have a good feeling about him and his crew. I trust my good feelings.”

“So, say we find a planet. Then what?”

Lana bit her lip. They really did need to start planning long term. Ideally, then, they would have everything ready by the time they found Maebry and rescued her from where ever Zakuul had hidden her. But the sooner Maebry’s location was discovered, the better. Darmas was doing good work on Zakuul, cozying up to military types, even a Knight or two. Eventually, he might meet someone who knew where important prisoners were kept. Though Lana still didn’t understand why Arcann wasn’t crowing about his victory over the Outlander. It defied all of the psychological profiles that she had read. He was the type of man who wanted to have his accomplishments acknowledged. For him to simply hold a trophy of war like Maebry without bragging about it simply made no sense.

“We’ll need an army, obviously,” Lana said. “Someone will need to train any troops we recruit, make sure they’re all in fighting shape.”

Who would lead that army would be another question entirely. Ideally, any army they had would be a combination of both Imperial and Republic troops. They would have to find someone who would be willing to work with both, and not seem to favor one over the other.

“Not to mention we’ll need supplies for those armies,” Theron said, putting an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his hand. He seemed glum, which was understandable. The coalition they had on Yavin 4 wasn’t nearly as complicated. People had their own ships and supplies. They hadn’t needed to construct a base of operations from scratch. “This is going to take a lot of credits, Lana. A lot of credits.”

Nodding, Lana said, “I have some ideas about that.” Mainly involving the Hutts. While she hated the thought of being in their debt, the sort of capital required to start the Alliance was completely out of her means. Presently she barely had enough to pay for Koth’s services. Some of her under-performing stocks would need to be sold.

“Please tell me you’re not thinking about the Hutts,” Theron said, pinching the bridge of his nose. Lana said nothing and folded her hands on top of the table. “You’re thinking about the Hutts. Just… just hold that thought for now, okay? I’ve got a contact in the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Let me see what strings I can pull and try to come up with a couple of better leads.”

“I’m not thinking about the Hutts, then, if that will please you,” Lana said, trying not to sound too relieved. She truly did hate dealing with the Hutt Cartel.

“It does,” Theron said. “So then I think our little operation needs a name of some sort, don’t you?”

“Theron, I hate titles, you know that. Even for operations, I hate them,” Lana said. She paused, trying to think of what would capture the spirit of their alliance without sounding to grandiose. A smile crossed her lips as she realized she already answered her question. “We’ll simply call this the Alliance.”

Theron tilted his head, clearly thinking over the idea. “The Alliance. Simple. Catchy. I like it,” he said, raising his glass. “To the Alliance.”

Lana raised her glass and clinked it against Theron’s. “To the Alliance.”

#swtor #lana beniko #maebry hindemith #jedi knight #hippo writes fanfiction

29 notes · View notes

iamlordmoldyshorts · 7 years

Text

In direct contrast to my trip to Spain, my trip to Belgium was entirely relaxed. Rather than flying, I decided to take a bus just so I’d be able to say that I’d partook (partaken?) in that particular experience. (Never Again)

My trip to Belgium fell directly on the tail-end of my trip to Spain. Upon arrival at the airport from Madrid, I hopped on the bus and went straight to Kings Cross Theatre, determined to see if I could wisely conduct my 18 hours in London before departing for Brussels. As it turned out, I ended up with a ticket to see In the Heights (again) at 8:00pm that very night. With six hours to spare before the show, one would think I’d use my time wisely, go home, unpack, repack, relax a bit before traveling again.

One would be wrong.

I went to go see Rogue One.

I finally returned home at 11:00pm and got my life together. I was up at 5:00am the next morning to book it to my bus. (I very nearly missed the bus due to the confusing system of six different bus lines heading to the same place…but I made it!)

I slept through roughly the first two hours of the trip but was wide awake by the time we reached Dover. (You know…the one with the cliffs? I couldn’t get a great photo from the bus, but here you go anyway.)

After waiting quite a while to get through passport control at the docks, our bus drove onto a ferry where we were told the crossing would take about an hour and a half. We were allowed off the bus, so I went to explore the ferry a bit. Found a seat by a dirty window and proceeded to be impressed and intimidated by the vastness of the Dover Strait.

The water was very choppy but we survived.

First view of France! Calais.

Second view of France. Looks a lot like midwest USA, to be honest.

Once we hit Dunkirk, we hung a right and traveled Southeast towards Lille, then Northeast towards Brussels. I arrived at Gare de Bruxelles-Nord (the Northern train station) at about 6:00pm (it was a looong day on the bus…) and took the metro to get to my hostel (that was an adventure all on its own).

Brussels was the very first place where I opted into a mixed dorm rather than a female dorm (simply due to cost) so of course, when I went to drop my stuff, I discovered that I was more than likely rooming with three guys (they weren’t there…but I could tell by the general state of disarray of the room.)

Anxious to be out and walking around (you would be too, had you spent that long on a bus,) I bundled up and went for a walk.

Stumbled upon a Christmas Market here.Wandered until I found some waffles…cause Belgium.

After waffles, I wandered through the drizzle and came across a plaza with a Christmas tree and this building. Stunning, but I had no clue what I was looking at…

From here, I wandered back to the hostel and relaxed for the rest of the evening. Read a book. Hung out in the common room (literally hugging the radiator) and talked to a lovely guy from Australia who was traveling Europe for a year.

By the time I went upstairs, the three guys I was sharing a room with were already asleep so I tiptoed around, getting ready for bed, and called it a night before midnight (unlike me, I assure you.)

The following morning, I realized I wanted to go on a walking tour, so I made my way to the center of the city to find the highly-touted 10:30 tour. As it happens, I got to the plaza early (10:10) and latched onto a 10:00am tour instead. Hindsight tells me this was a great decision because I got to experience Brussels through the eyes of Adrien Deslandes with Sandemans New Brussels and it was a wonderful experience.

I truly didn’t realize how much a tour guide makes or breaks your trip until my poor experience in Cambridge, so I’m quite glad that I found a fun and energetic tour guide with a propensity for bad jokes that no one but me laughed at.

We started the tour in Grand Place, a large Market Square. In fact, the same one I had found the night prior. Please note, to my eternal dismay, that the building itself is not symmetrical. WHY WOULD THEY DO THIS TO ME?

Adrien told us the history of Brussels in this square, including its destruction, reconstruction, and relevance to WWII.

Huge Christmas tree. (Slightly more decorous than the glowing blue monstrosity in Madrid.)

Cute little cottage in the middle of Grand Place.

A brief history of Brussels largely paraphrased from Wikipedia (history included only because Adrien made it so fascinating. Feel free to skip this if you don’t care about historical relevance. ;)

Brussels was founded sometime around 979 when it was determined to be an optimal position of trade between Bruges, Ghent, and Cologne. The surrounding marshes were eventually drained and by the 13th century, the city got its first walls.

By the 15th century, became the Princely Capital of the prosperous Low Countries, and flourished. In 1516 Charles V, heir of the Low Countries, was declared King of Spain and in 1519, became the new ruler of the Habsburg Empire and was subsequently elected the Holy Roman Emperor.

In 1695, King Louis XIV of France sent troops to bombard Brussels with artillery. It was the most destructive event in the entire history of Brussels. A third of the city, including 4000 buildings and The Grand Place, was destroyed. However, the subsequent reconstruction of the city profoundly changed the appearance and left numerous traces still visible today.

Captured by France in 1746 during the War of the Austrian Succession, the city was handed back to Austria only three years later. Brussels remained with Austria until 1795, when the Southern Netherlands was captured and annexed by France. It remained a part of France until 1815, when it joined the United Kingdom of the Netherlands. This was all well and good for 15 years until there was a revolution in 1830 that began at the opera house (a proper rage…at the opera house…)

Brussels became the capital and seat of government of a new nation.

Because of its convenient location, during World War I, Brussels was an occupied city, but German troops did not cause much damage. It was once again occupied during World War II and was spared major damage during its occupation by German forces before it was liberated by the British.

Because of its history, the people of Belgium speak two different languages; Dutch and French.

Wandering out of Grand Place, we crossed a few streets and headed for the second stop on the tour.

Adrien explained that comics were (and are) a large part of Belgian culture. As a result, there are art pieces like this all around the city, sanctioned by the city, complete with placard detailing where to find the next in the series. Like an art scavenger hunt, if you will!

Right around the corner from the first art piece, we happened upon Brussels most famous statue, Manneken Pis.

Mannekin Pis literally translates from Dutch to mean “Little man Pee.” No one actually knows the origin or inspiration of the statue. As Adrien tells it, this location was likely near the city tannery and the statue is an homage to these tanneries, where urine was used in the processing of leather, as the ammonia in urine helps make leather more supple.

Though he wasn’t when we visited, throughout the year, Mannekin Pis gets dressed up for a variety of holidays and has even been stolen quite a few times.

From there, we walked straight through the city:

Another comic installation.

Supremely cool facade of a building.

Not even original content, but it got a hearty guffaw as we walked by.

Our next stop was the Operahouse where we were told of the 1830 revolution. This is great.

Catholic partisans watched the unfolding of the July Revolution in France, details of which were being reported in the newspapers. On 25 August 1830, at the opera house, an uprising followed a special performance of Daniel Auber’s The Mute Girl of Portici, a patriotic opera telling the story of an uprising against the Spanish masters of Naples in the 17th century. After the duet, Sacred love of Fatherland, many audience members left the theater and started riots. The crowd poured into the streets shouting patriotic slogans. The rioters swiftly took possession of government buildings.

Never let it be said that the Belgians aren’t passionate about art.

We stopped at a restaurant/bar for a bit of a break, whereupon I went out to scour for some frites (french fries) because that’s a thing that happens in Belgium.

We trekked up a large hill and found ourselves at the St. Michael and St. Gudula Cathedral, the national church of Belgium.

Although St. Michael is the patron of Brussels, St. Gudula is the most venerated patroness. She is depicted on a seal of the church holding a candle in her right hand and a lamp in her left, which a demon is trying to extinguish. This refers to the legend that she went to church before daybreak and a demon, wishing to stray her off the right way, extinguished the candle, but the saint obtained from God that her lantern should be rekindled. She was interred in this Cathedral. However, in 1579 the church was pillaged and wrecked by beggars, and the relics of the saint disinterred and scattered. (Womp wah…)

From here, we continued our walk through the outer rim of the city and stopped at the Royal Palace of Brussels.

Wide street in front of the Palace.

The Palace itself, which, of course, has a controversial history.

First built in the 11th and 12th centuries, the Royal Palace has been renovated and updated several times, even being destroyed in a fire in the mid-1700’s. The most notable changes, however, were developed under the reign of King Leopold II.

After the Belgian revolution the palace was offered to Leopold I when he ascended the throne as the first King of the Belgians. Just like his predecessor, he used the palace mainly for official receptions and other representational purposes and lived elsewhere. During his reign little was changed. It was his son, Leopold II, who judged the building to be too modest for a king of his stature, and who kept on enlarging and embellishing the palace until his death in 1909. During his reign the palace nearly doubled in surface.

How’d he afford this, you might ask? Well…

Leopold laid claim to the Congo, (now known as the Democratic Republic of the Congo,) and at the Berlin Conference of 1884–1885, the colonial nations of Europe authorized his claim by committing the Congo Free State to improving the lives of the native inhabitants. From the beginning, however, Leopold ignored these conditions (like a dick…). He used great sums of the money from exploitation of a mercenary force in the region for public and private construction projects in Belgium.

Leopold extracted a fortune from the Congo, by the collection of ivory and eventually by forced labor from the natives to harvest and process rubber. Under his regime anywhere from 2-15 million of the Congolese people died; a consensus growing among historians that the total was around 10 million. Human rights abuses under Leopold’s regime contributed significantly to these deaths. Reports of deaths and abuse led to a major international scandal in the early 20th century, and Leopold was ultimately forced by the Belgian government to relinquish control of the colony to the civil administration in 1908, just one year before his death.

So all in all, he was kinda an asshole. Good times.

We finished out tour at Mont des Arts Garden.

Garden

Building-side clock.

Art piece surrounding a set of stairs. Even functionality can be beautiful here.

We asked Adrien why the trees were white. He joked that it was artistic in nature and when we just stared at him, he confessed that it was due to an overwhelming number of drunks running face-first into the trees at night. The city colored the trunks white so they could be seen at nighttime. (A MUCH better explanation.)

At this point, our tour ended, so another girl from the tour and I set off on our own to find food and wander a bit more. On the recommendation of a friend, we returned to the Opera area and visited a restaurant called Drug Opera, known for their waffles.

So sweet and fluffy that they aren’t offered with syrup.

We wandered a bit more and, determined to try all the foods, we stopped in at a Tex-Mex place to sample their wares. God, I miss Tex-Mex.

Fajitaaaaaaas!

We meandered the Christmas Markets a bit before going our separate ways.

An extremely blurry photo of a street-entertainer I saw on the way home. Playing three or four instruments simultaneously, he was also making two puppets dance. He had quite an audience.

That night at the hostel, I finally met my roommates, three delightful guys from Malaysia who were studying architecture in Germany. They had spent the day in Bruges, a pilgrimage I was making the following day, so I discussed the sights with them for a bit. (A good decision, as they kindly informed me that Michelangelo’s Madonna and Child was in Bruges…this statue being the inspiration behind the historically semi-accurate film/book The Monuments Men.)

I went to bed, thinking happy thoughts of the following day when I’d get to visit small-town Bruges and spend the entirety of the trip quoting a film I hadn’t seen in years.

But more on that in my next post.

All in all, I went to Brussels without a plan. I spent the majority of the time wandering around both with and without a tour guide. I scoured several Christmas Markets (as one does when in Europe during Christmastime.) I made friends with Malaysians, Australians, and Canadians. I enjoyed the simplicity of visiting the city–the fact that I didn’t have to stick to a plan aside from traveling to/from each city.

I don’t necessarily think I’ll be able to handle traveling without an itinerary every time I travel, but for the first time I could definitely see the merits. (For example, I’m doing three nights in Latvia later this week. No plans. Just…three nights in Riga. More to follow.)

Next blog: Bruges!

Waffles and Fries but Not at the Same Time In direct contrast to my trip to Spain, my trip to Belgium was entirely relaxed. Rather than flying, I decided to take a bus just so I'd be able to say that I'd partook (partaken?) in that particular experience.

#Belgium #Brussels #Europe #Travel #Wanderlust

1 note · View note