Tumgik
#I’ve seen worse comic book art and I know that these artists are overworked and underpaid with terrible deadlines
robbed-ghost · 2 years
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Some of my favorite goofy panels from the Super Sons comics
48 notes · View notes
Text
Marc Appreciation Week 2019| Day 6: Collab| “Working Together”
Okay, this is actually late.  It is past midnight, technically Day 7.
I am actually posting Day 7 later today, hopefully before the week is out.
Anyway here’s the 6th day, and the only chapter in the dumpster fire to actually follow the prompt given.
Disclaimers were in Day 1.
Chapters:
1 2 3 4 5 6 7
AO3 Link
(~3200 biddling words.  Why do I do this to myself?)
           Marc didn’t know what he was.  Today was weird: he didn’t feel girly anymore after last night, but at the same time he didn’t think the “he” suited him today.  He realized this must have been what Alix was talking about before, about non-binary gender.
           Being something that wasn’t a boy or a girl was trippy.  Marc had felt it before, probably, but knowing what it was (which felt obvious now, considering… well, everything he was currently feeling) made it… something.  For all the words he knew, he couldn’t peg one for the experience.
           It occurred that he ought to have been surprised by how quickly he had taken to reconsidering his pronouns.  But then, that’s what his gender did, didn’t it?  Didn’t he always know that his gender did that?  Hadn’t that been such a large source of his anxiety for years?
          And now he was just rolling with it.
          That morning, he had glanced at himself in a mirror, per his usual routine.  His old adjectives, “Not him again” and “Could be worse” were absent this time.  Instead, he had felt heavy.  Overdressed, perhaps, only in his own skin.
          But he could live with that.
          It still stank, because French didn’t have a third-gender pronoun.  That meant that, regardless of his actual self, he had to use male pronouns.
          So, he comfortably got dressed, did up his face in a way he thought would suit him, and left for school.
          Something was different that afternoon.  Alix wasn’t in for some reason, which automatically meant the art teacher (he still kept forgetting his name) was more relaxed.  Juleka and Rose were separated, for once.  Rose was sitting in a corner, feverishly scribbling down notes in her pad.  Juleka was in the opposite corner, reading a horror novel, and her ankle was shackled to a protruding pipe.
          He approached Juleka cautiously, eyeing her restraints warily. “Did, uh…” He glanced up at the teacher, making sure he wasn’t listening.  “Did Alix tell you?”
          “Yeah, she got your text.”  Juleka glanced up meaningfully at her girlfriend, by herself in the corner. “Lucky someone in this club has their head on straight.”
          Marc chuckled.  “I don’t know if we can say that, there’s like one straight person in this club.”
          Juleka smiled for a second, then went back to reading her book. “And where was she, huh?  Crazy overworked, fixing up stuff our last class rep neglected.  Notice she couldn’t drop by all week?”  She calmly flipped the page she was on.  “Once again, Chloé got us into another fine mess that Marinette’s gotta pull us out of.  Again.”
          “What?” said Marc.  “No, I meant… wait, Marinette’s straight?”
          The musician shrugged.  “So she claims.  It is impolite to assume.”  As normal, her expression and tone betrayed little.
          “Biggest shock of my week,” was Marc’s jested reply.  “But I was talking about Nathaniel.”
          “Hm?  Oh yeah.” She pulled up one hand to do finger-quotes.  “‘Straight.’  That’s definitely an adjective that can describe him.  Marc, have you seen the way he draws Chat Noir?”
          “Of course, what about it?”
          “Well, maybe you’re both blinded by the superhero’s skintight leather, but the boy is not that ripped.”
          Rose hummed loudly.  Juleka glanced up at her.
          “I’m not trying to push anything, unlike some people,” she protested.  “I’m merely pointing out that he should have already noticed by now, in a manner he will not pick up on for purposes of dramatic irony.”
          “What’s going on?” he asked. “And what’s with you two?”  He looked at the chain.  “And… that?”
          “She’s on probation,” explained Juleka.  “Until she realizes what she did was wrong.”
          “Probation of what?”
          “Getting to run my hands through that soft, dark hair,” Rose replied for her, rubbing her fingers over the pages of her lyrics.  “Holding her close to me, closing my eyes and breathing in her clove-scented perfume.  Feeling the warmth of a heart matched beat-for-beat with mine.”
          Marc looked back at Juleka.  She was nose-deep in her book, but her forehead was sweating, her knuckles were white, and she refused to look anywhere near where Rose was sitting.
          “Is that why you’ve chained yourself to this pipe?”
          Juleka whimpered a little before answering.  “It’s funny, in a tragic sort of way.”
          “So, what’s holding Rose back?”
          “Pity, mostly.”
          “This isn’t about the makeup thing, is it?” questioned the writer.  “I don’t blame Rose for anything that happened.  I mean, it worked out, sort of.”
          “Yeah, no thanks to me,” sniffed the poet. “If I’d have known…”
          “Hey.”  He approached her and offered his hand.  “Hindsight is 20/20.”
          “Still.”  She rubbed the brimming tears from her eyes.  “I was such an idiot, and you had to go through all of that because of me.”
          “You’re still the first one who listened.  Let’s be honest, that could have gone a lot worse.”
          “I overreacted.”  She looked down and continued to write, though it was mostly an excuse to avoid Marc’s eyes. “I thought I knew what was happening, and I thought I could help.  I was wrong to try and do it by myself without seeing a second opinion.”  Sniffing, she closed the notebook.  “I’m sorry.”
          “Oh…” groaned Juleka.  “So close, Rose.  Come on, I know you can do it.”
          “Do what?”
          “We aren’t be allowed to touch each other until she figures out exactly where she went wrong.  She’s got most of it, but I’m not allowed to tell her the last one.”
          “Okay, but why are you doing,” he gestured wildly at both girls, “this?”
          “Because I don’t have the key and Rose is really trying, bless her.”
          He looked between the two of them a few times, both of them equally miserable.  “I get the feeling this wasn’t your guys’ arrangement.”
          “It was Alix’s,” admitted Juleka.  “We both went along with it.  The chain was my idea, though.  It’s the cruelest and most elaborate punishment ever devised, who do you think dreamt it up?”
          “I mean,” Marc disputed, “I wouldn’t have pegged her specifically.”  Particularly not after their little heart-to-heart yesterday.
          “Never tick off someone with a small body-mass-to-temper ratio,” Rose advised.  “Especially if everyone in her family is an ancient history buff.”
          “What’s that got to—”
          “Look, she knows a little something about torture.”
          “Ah,” Marc commented, thoroughly confused and only pretending to understand.  “You two look like you’re busy, I’ll leave you to it.”
          He quietly took his seat at the back of the room, leaving the two to sort out their issues in peace.
           All things considered, life was pretty good.
          So why was Marc still feeling so anxious?
          Nathaniel crept in through the door with his head down, answering the question.
           “Nathaniel,” Juleka said.  “Unlock me.  I need to go use the bathroom.”
           “Sure thing.”  Nath approached her, holding something else up.  “Brought your headphones, too, you left them in class.”
           “It won’t work.  She’s stuck in my head.”
Rose cast a saddened, dramatic gaze towards the writer in the back. “Pray you don’t become like us, Marc.”
           Marc blushed.  Of course Rose figured it out.  She probably told Juleka, too.
           Yet another thing to watch out for.
           ‘Wait, so is Nathaniel straight or not?’
           Nathaniel joined him at their usual table once Juleka had been freed.  “Hey.”
           “You know,” Marc bet, “one has to wonder if that’s some sort of metaphor for something.”
           The artist burst out laughing, but quickly shut himself up when he realized he was making noise.  “Yeah,” he confessed.  “Probably. But they’re good for each other. Rose helps Juleka’s self-esteem, Juleka keeps Rose grounded.”
           “Yeah.  They really are kinda fun to write.  Speaking of…”
           “Right!  Back to work.”
           “If we end off our comic there, Rose is never going to forgive us.”
           “I know,” expressed Nathaniel, glancing over at the person in question.  She was the only other student who hadn’t gone home yet.  Volume up high in her earbuds, she wasn’t even looking at them. “But this story is way too interesting for one issue.  With a cliffhanger like that, she’ll keep breathing down our necks to make more.”  He blushed, realizing he had gotten ahead of himself.  “I mean, if you’re okay with… I’ve really liked working with you and I want to—”
           “Yes!” Marc blurted with a blush of his own.  “I mean, um, yes.  I would… I would love to keep working with you.”
           “Okay.”  He turned his attention back to the work.  “So, if we end the issue with Princess Fragrance’s reveal, then that’s going to take a full-page panel.”  He drew a border inside another blank page.  “Right, so we’ve got that planned out.  Now to just get cracking on those last few pages.”  He surveyed the pages of blank boxes in front of him, each with a little note of what went in each.  “And we know what has to be said at each bit, so if you want to edit specific dialogue, now’s the time to do that.”
           “Cool.  I’ll get on top of that.”
           Marc’s brain suddenly took a dive, and he hastily tried to delete the previous sentence from his brain.
           Each of them had the plans for everything, so they didn’t see a reason to talk much, a silence Marc respected even if he himself wasn’t comfortable with it.  If it made Nathaniel more comfortable, he could swing that.
           His brain needed to stop it immediately with the double-entendres.
           The two of them worked for another few minutes, with only the sound of their pens scratching their paper.
           Nathan, surprisingly, was the one who broke the silence.  “So… last night you were a girl.”
           Marc exhaled nervously.  He wasn’t wrong, but it still felt weird to acknowledge the elephant in the room.  “Uh, yeah.”
           “Earlier yesterday you were a boy.”
           “Yep.”
           “So…”  Nath bit his lip, which Marc had to avert his gaze from.  “I don’t want to just assume, in case I get it wrong.  What are you now?”
           Marc had been stewing this over while he worked. Truth be told, he found he didn’t actually care as much today.  He knew he wasn’t a boy, and he wasn’t a girl, but… he wasn’t really much of anything else either.
           “I don’t think I’m anything right now.”
           “Really?”
          “Nothing, right now.”  He shrugged.  “I’m just… nothing.”
          “How does that work?”
          “Search me.”  He shrugged once again.  “I don’t have much of a gender today, I guess.”
          “So…” Nathaniel paused.  “It’s like there’s no… asterisks.”
          “Asterisks?”
          Nath winced.  “Sorry. I was trying to be poetic, y’know, like you?  You have this great, flowing… your words are just, they click.  Does that make sense?  It probably doesn’t make sense, forget I said anything.”
          Marc smiled at the compliment, going back to his journal.  “They’re just words.”
          “They’re not, though, alright?” he declared.  “They’re not just words, they’re you! The way you get words to line up, only you can do it that way.  You’re so… smart, and creative, and… your writing style is just great.”
          “Th-thanks.”
          “I mean that.”  Nathan looked away, holding his arm sheepishly.  “You’re great, you’re really…”  He shut his eyes.  “Forget it.”
           Marc blinked.  “What was that?”
           “Never mind.  Where you at?  Panel 9-g, the security guard is revealed to be possessed, Ghostlight comes out, and we need a good, punchy line to start the fight with.”
           “No…”  Marc closed his journal.  “This can wait.  What were you going to say?”
           “Nothing important.”
           “I doubt that.”  He reached over the table and took his hand.  “Nath, whatever it is, it’s important.  You want to say it, say it.”
           Nathaniel blushed.  His mouth opened and closed, flopping like a fish, and he started to sweat.
           Marc looked down and realized oh wait, he was actually holding Nath’s hand.  He instantly let go, which seemed to shock Nath back into coherency.
           “I can’t,” he told him.
           “You can’t?”
           “No,” he restated.  “I’ll just mess it up, just forget it.”
           “I’ll listen.”  This gave the author pause.  “I’ve been keeping up with you for the last week.  I’ll understand what you’re trying to say.”
           His face had determination etched into it. He opened his mouth and began.
           “Oh!” Rose said suddenly, breaking his momentum. “Look at the time, I have to… go make an excuse.”  She scooched off of her seat and sashayed out the door.  “I’ll leave you two alone,” she called back, leaving the door ajar.
           Both collaborators stared after her.  The art teacher glanced in her direction, then he, too, left the room.
Nathaniel and Marc were alone.  Nathan, only a little deterred, summoned back what little courage he had left.
“You…”  He stopped. “You’re my friend, right Marc?”
           “Yeah,” was the immediate, nodding answer.  “I hope so, anyway.”
           “And… I’m your friend, right?”
           “Of course.”
           “You… you’re so much of a better person than I am.” The boy gulped.  “No matter… who you are.  And today, it’s like… I’m so glad I get to see you happy.”
          “Uh…”  Marc nodded again in appreciation. “Thanks.”
          “I mean, look at you, you’re happier, even if you’re still the same person who’s come in to help me with this stupid thing—”
          “Nathan, it’s not stupid—”
          “It is, though, and sometimes it feels like we’re the only people here who care about it.  Only now you’ve changed, and you’re so much more relaxed now, and… And it’s good for you, right?  You get to be so much more confident.  Like just now, when you said you had no gender, you said it and you were sure.”
          “I’m still not really sure.”
          “You sounded sure, and that’s better than I can do.  With pretty much anything.  I’m not strong or witty, but you are. There’s just so many little things, here and there, and I can’t concentrate right.  There’s just so many things about—”
          The sudden halt from the speed at which Nathaniel had been talking gave Marc whiplash.
          Marc looked at him, expecting him to finish what he was saying.
          “I can’t…” he mumbled.   “Just… that’s it, then.  I don’t know how I was going to end that.”
          “You feeling okay, Nathan?” queried Marc.  “I don’t think I’ve heard you talk so much in one go.”
          “It’s…nothing.”  Nath took a deep breath.  “I’ve been trying to… think of things I wanted to say—”  He got out of his seat, turning away.  “Never mind, it’s stupid.”
          “No,” Marc stated, standing up behind him.  “You’re not.  If you need to say something, just say it.”
          “I think—”
          “Go on.”
          “I think you’re—” Nathaniel swallowed his tongue and hunched over, covering his mouth.
          “Nath!”  Marc rushed to his aid.  “Breathe slowly, okay?  Are you alright?  You look like you’re going to puke.”
          “I didn’t say anything, just…”  Nath’s voice broke.  “Please, just drop it, I don’t wanna…”
          Marc couldn’t believe it.  Nathaniel, whose creativity knew no bounds, was censoring himself.
          That could not happen.
          And Marc needed to know.
          “What if I don’t want to drop it?”
           “Marc, please…”
           “What if I don’t want you to be afraid to talk to me? What would you say if you could talk to me?”  He looked into his icy-blue eyes, piercing through with his warmth.  “What if you were about to say what I thought you were going to say?  What if it’s that important that I hear how that sentence was going to end?”  He snatched Nath’s hands from where they had covered his mouth and cradled them in his own. “And what if, by some miracle, I cared about how you felt and what you thought?”
           Nath stared back at him, and both of them reeled from the shock of Marc’s outburst.
           Then Nathaniel slowly started shaking his head.
           “Don’t do this… don’t do that to me,” he murmured. “Stop doing that, you’re going to just regret it.”
           Marc tightened his grip.  “Just say what you wanted to.  Stop putting up all these filters in your head.”  He grasped at something.  “Do the thing about the asterisks.  What did you mean by that?”
          Nath took a deep breath and tried.  “Well… right now, you’re… no gender.  No asterisks.  No added stress.  You’re just… Marc.  Pure Marc.” He scowled.  “I mean… that’s not good, is it, that’s not clever.  Cause you’re not just genderless, are you?”  He wrenched his hands from Marc’s ironclad grip. “Look, you could be a girl and I’d… you’d still be you.  Same for if you end up a boy.  You just get to be you.  And… I like it when you’re you.”  He stopped, looking to Marc for criticism.
           After a moment, Marc smiled warmly.  “That was pretty poetic.”
           “Y-you do it so much better than me.”
           They both smiled.
           “C-can I—” Nath gulped, shutting himself down.
           “What?”
           “N-nothing.”  He shook where he stood.  “Forget it.”
           “No chance.”  Marc wasn’t sure where this courage was coming from, but he didn’t shake it away.  “You don’t have to filter yourself.  I won’t judge anything you say from here on out, you hear me?  It’s the least I can do for what you and Alix have done for me.”
           Nathaniel drew closer suddenly, his hand touched Marc’s cheek, and their lips barely touched.  For a single half-second, their lips brushed against one another, and then Nathan drew back like Marc was a burning stove.
           Both creators were left in a state of shock.
           “Oh… my… God.”  Marc gaped.  “You…”
           “Cute,” Nathaniel muttered.  “I was gonna say cute.  Before.”  He looked down.  “I’m… sorry, I’ll just…”  He made his way to his bag, tripped on a chair, and started to bolt for the door.
           Seeing Nathan start to panic and run away triggered something in him.  He suddenly found a good reason to raise his voice.
           Nathaniel had given him strength.  Now he had to return the favor.
           “Hey, get back here!” Marc called out, and the artist stopped. “I’ve had a crush on you for over a full month now.  You get a do-over.”  Marc surged forward, turned him back around, and kissed him again, this time much more solidly.
           A few seconds passed and they separated.  “You have a crush on me?” Nath said, confused.
           Marc laughed a little at his expense.  “There were times, even just this week, where something you did just completely killed me, stone dead.”
           Nath blinked.  “Do you want to go out sometime?”
          “You see, this is what I’m talking about.”  He pulled him close and hugged him tightly.  “Son of a gun, yes, but don’t give me heart attacks like that.”
          Nath’s arms awkwardly returned the embrace.  “I, uh… I’ve never had a… an actual date before. What’s the, uhm… protocol, here?”
           “Are you serious?”
           “Half-serious.”
           “Well don’t worry.  It’ll be a learning experience for the both of us.”
           We have always belonged together!
           Nathaniel tore away from the embrace, turning sharply towards the door.  “Rose, what the hell!?”
           The little pink devil held the phone up high, volume turned all the way up.  We will always belong together!  Just keep moving on!
           “Sorry,” Rose giggled.  “My hand slipped.”
           The collaborators looked at each other.  Nodding a silent agreement, they chased after Rose together.
Okay.  I don’t have much else to say right now, so... *shuffles away*.
6 notes · View notes