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hotsayce · 3 years

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The Lake

NCT fanfic - 3.4k - Gender Neutral- A group of friends go to their nearby lake to hang out:)

Warnings: Drowning is mentioned but don't worry! No one actually drowns, the narrator just can't swim and is scared. Sex is also mentioned. Alcohol.

Author's Note: This is written in first person but the narrator is referred to as Y/N. Johnny and Ten aren't THAT important in the story, it's mostly the narrator and Mark.

~~~

It was almost time.

My friends and I were getting ready to go to the lake for a celebration.

Though the only thing worth celebrating was that Mark was finally graduating high school. He was the baby of our group. Ten and I were both 20, Johnny was 22 and Mark was just 18. We all started being friends in high school, I met Ten in dance class and Johnny in chorus my freshman year. We adopted Mark during my junior year though. We noticed some random kid sitting alone at lunch most every day. Nothing wrong with that, I myself sat alone sometimes during my freshman year. But this was different. Another group of kids began to sit with him, we thought he finally found his crowd. Until one week, Mark's little table was empty. We just assumed he was sick or something, until it lasted the whole week. We didn't have any classes with him and we had never spoken to him so there was no way to know what happened. The next Monday, Johnny just so happened to stop by the bathroom during lunch and saw poor Mark sitting on the (disgusting) bathroom floor, crying and eating alone. Then he brought him to sit with us. The rest is history.

Not really, I've never had a history class with any of them.

But that brings us to tonight, I am just about to open the door to leave my dorm room when my roommate asks, "Where are you going?"

Dangn't. I had been trying my best not to wake them up but I failed. Like always.

"Just out with some friends." I answer in the most calm way possible.

Adrian isn’t a snitch or anything, I just don’t want them knowing my business. We were never really that close.

"Okay," They roll back over in their bunkbed, facing the wall.

I almost slip out of the door when they ask, "What time will you be back?"

"Before 5."

They roll over again. "Okay, just be more quiet when you sneak back in please."

They must be referring to the time I came in at 6 A.M. and my morning alarm started blaring. I kept trying to push the off button but my screen was too cracked for me to press it. They'll never let me live that down.

I slip out of the door and am on my way to the bathroom. I don’t need to think of a plan to get out or anything, my Resident Advisor doesn’t care if we leave during the night. Ten wouldn't have such an easy time though, I hear the advisor at his dorm is more strict.

I finally step outside of my building only to notice that Ten beat me here.

"How'd you get past your RA?"

He laughs. "It's easy to reason with someone you've slept with."

"Gross." I shove him to the side. Not gross, quite cool actually. I was very jealous. Ten's RA was drop dead gorgeous and the amount of times I asked him if I could sleep over to see if they'd stop by his room is far too many to count.

We were on our way to Johnny's place to go chill at the lake behind his house. He went to the same college as Ten and I but he lived at home with his parents. I would too if they were as loaded as his family, not to mention they live pretty close to school. A walk was only 35 minutes away which never seemed like much if you walked with other people.

Walking to Johnny's was normally silent when I went by myself but that was never the case with Ten. He always had some cool college story to tell, we were both juniors but his experience seemed much more interesting that mine. Whether he was spilling gossip about the dance team or who he'd been flirting with during his most recent seminar, it was always something eventful.

"What college do you think Mark will choose?" Ten asks.

Woah. That's a much different direction from where he normally goes.

"Why such a somber question to start the night? (morning actually) I wanna know if anything new has happened between Veronica and Tamika?" I try changing the subject. Veronica and Tamika were two girls in his dance class who had supposedly been best friends since their freshman year. Everyone knew they liked each other but neither of them had ever asked the other out.

"Seriously Y/N. What if he doesn't come to our school?"

"Well," I normally try not to think about what would happen if Mark left the country for college. "Then we'll video chat with him every week and text him all the time and he'll come home each summer."

Ten doesn’t look at me but I know that this is eating him up.

It'd been eating all of us up. Johnny, Ten, and I had all gone to GC State for our own separate reasons and we were hoping Mark would too but he had his eyes set on an arts school in Vancouver. He was born in Canada so it would mean so much to him to move back there for college but he didn't want to leave his friends (us).

"I just don't want us to split up. We were gonna be his older college buddies." It was dark out but I could still see the frown on Ten's face.

I put my arm around his shoulder. "He still has about a month left, we don't know what he's going to pick. And whichever school he does choose, we'll support him."

Ten sighs. "I guess your right. We don't where he'll go yet but we have to be happy for him."

I nod my head and continue walking beside him.

"Oh and Ica-Ika is never gonna work out." 'Ica-Ika' was a cute ship name Ten and I made for Veronica and Tamika. "Imagine being a senior in college and still being too nervous to confess to your crush."

I raise my eyebrow at him. "You're one to talk."

"Look. I've got one more year. Quit rushing me."

I laugh at Ten. He's had a crush on Johnny since high school but has never told him. At this rate he never will.

~~~

We finally arrive at Johnny's house. He has that type of house that you have to drive down to since it's off by itself. The three story ones with the huge yards. The house where everybody wants to be and where all the parties were. Not to mention the lake in the back. I was surprised when I found out that Johnny was an only child. Why would their family need such a big house if there were just 3 of them? But it's not my place to judge what other people do with their hard earned money.

Johnny's car is the only one in the driveway so his parents aren't home. Ten and I don't bother walking through the front door, we walk straight to the back and find Mark sitting in a lawn chair and Johnny standing right beside him.

Johnny had always taken a liking to Mark ever since he found him in the bathroom. Not in the cliché high school relationship type of way though, Johnny was not a creepy senior guy on the varsity football team and Mark was not an innocent freshman girl who had 'developed' over the summer. They were 4 years apart but the way they act, you'd think they were the exact same age. Except they don't look the same age. Johnny was tall (a giant really) with long brown hair. Between his extroverted personality and his beefy arms, he had all the girls, guys, and honestly anyone with eyes after him. Mark was... not like Johnny. He was much smaller with short black hair and I'm sure people would be after him if he wasn't so darn oblivious to everyone who wants him. It's like he was waiting for someone special to come along and ask him out but who knows when that will happen?

"You're finally here!" Johnny turned at the sound of our footsteps and came up to hug us. He always gave great hugs.

"Now the party can start!" I say while Ten and Johnny hug for a second too long.

Mark gets up to hug us as well and we make our way to the lake, although he lingers to walk beside me instead of with Johnny and Ten.

~~~

"Have you decided which college you're going to yet?" I glare at Ten from my chair and Johnny does the same.

"You haven't even gotten him to drink yet and you're already asking him important questions? What am I teaching you Ten?" Johnny takes another swig of his own glass of wine. He's the only person who would bring fancy glasses and expensive wine to hang out at the lake with his friends at 3 A.M.

"I can't drink yet Johnny." Mark says.

Johnny winks at him. "Riiight."

I laugh as I drink from my own glass. "There's no rush in your decision Mark. We'll be happy with whatever you choose."

Everyone was silent as we all thought about what Mark's decision would be. Our guess was as good as his.

"C'mon guys no being sad at our celebration." Johnny jumps up from his seat. "To the lake!"

He begins walking to the lake, Ten close on his heels cheering. I get up from my seat to follow them but notice Mark still sulking in his chair. He must still be thinking about college. No doubt he has exams soon, he has this big decision to add on top of it all.

I walk over to Mark and grab his hand, motioning for him to walk with us.

When we get to the lake, the rest of the guys rid themselves of their shirts while Mark keeps his on. I opt to keep my shirt on as well, I don't plan on swimming today.

"You're not gonna swim?" Mark takes his shoes off, preparing to get in the water.

"No, not today." I sit down on the dock and stick my feet in the cool water.

Instead of getting in the water like Ten and Johnny, Mark sits down beside me. "I won't swim either then."

There's no use in telling him to go ahead and swim. He hates for any one of us to be left out so he'll stay with me no matter how much I protest.

The sadness in Mark's eyes from earlier disappears once he looks at the lake. His expression when he looks at the water makes it seem like he's never seen a lake like this before. He's always loved coming here. Johnny would sometimes pick him up after school when he had the time so they could just sit here at the lake and talk about anything. It was like his safe place. He wouldn't have the lake in Vancouver.

"Were you being serious earlier?" The reflection of the moon is still in his eyes but the sadness is back.

"Serious about what?" I say as I flick my feet in the water.

"When you guys said you'd support me. No matter what college I go to. You won't leave like-"

"No Mark," I stop him before he can even finish. "We won't leave you. It doesn't matter how far we are, we'll always be friends okay?"

He doesn't say anything but I know he understands. Ever since those kids ditched him in high school, he's had trust issues about people leaving him. There were so many people that tried to be friends with him but he always pushed them away because he thought they'd do the same. Sure he talks to some people at school, but his only real friends are all in college. I can't imagine how lonely that must feel.

I try to lighten the mood. "Hey Buddy," I say jokingly.

"Oh no, not buddy."

I place my arms around Mark's shoulders. "You know you're getting older and your life is changing..."

He then rips my arm from his shoulder laughing, "What is this?"

I grab his arm once again. "I'm just trying to tell you about college because you're a growing boy."

"Are you trying to give me the talk? Because I've had it before."

I turn and face him. "You've had sex before?!"

"What no! I meant the talk!"

I sigh out of relief. "Phew. Good. I couldn't believe you had never told me."

We both laugh until it gets quiet.

"You never told me whether you've had sex before."

He was not wrong. Johnny and Ten talked about their 'partners' all the time but I've never mentioned it because I've never been with anyone like that. I've always been waiting for the right time but it was really just me being cautious and refusing to have my first time in a cramped college dorm. No one (near my age) had caught my interest and, unfortunately, Johnny never volunteered so I've just been saving myself up I guess.

"That is correct." I don't know what Mark is getting at but I just keep letting him talk.

"Well do you thin-"

Before he can finish his sentence, I feel a splash of water hit me. Ten and Johnny float in the water in front of us with two big grins on their faces.

"Hey spoilsports, come swim with us." Johnny hits us with another splash and Mark jumps in to go play with them. Thank God. I was not about to let Mark down and tell him that I won't have sex with him during his last year of high school. There is nothing wrong with Mark except for how he is basically still a child and as (or even more) inexperienced as I am.

The guys stay near my area so I can still splash them from sitting down. Except it's mostly them cheating because whenever I throw water at them, they just duck under the surface whereas I have to stay up here and get wet.

By the time we're done, I'm soaking wet and Ten and Johnny have swam out again. Mark almost joins them but swims back to me.

"How come you aren't swimming with us?"

The word 'swim' is incorrect in this situation. He knows I can't swim. Normally, when we go to the lake, I lazy around in a floatie but I just don't feel like it right now.

"Mark, you know I can't swim."

"Well yeah," He flips his hair back and unintentionally sprays me with more water. "But we all can."

I'm sorry. I think he's failed to understand the concept of 'me not being able to swim = me drowning.'

Before I can inform him of that, Johnny and Ten come swimming towards us with a weird look in their eyes. When they get up on the dock, they shake their hair out as well, getting me wet again and then Johnny grabs Ten's hand and begins leading him back to the house.

"Where are you two going?" I question and they just giggle.

"Johnny wants to show me his room." Ten smiles up at the older and they're still walking away from us.

Mark calls out after them, "But we've all already seen his room!" They keep laughing, hand in hand, walking back to the house to do who knows what except we all know exactly what they're doing and I curse them in my head for setting up such a venereal tone in the air.

"What are they doing?" Mark looks up at me with the most oblivious look in his eyes.

"Sex."

"Gross."

Again, not gross. Very jealous.

I wish the moonlight and calm lake were not making the environment so romantic right now. Not to mention the text from Ten that says, 'Don't bother us. Go bang Mark :)'

Although that sounds very tempting, I will not be a senior in high school's, first time. Or let him be my first time.

"I can hold you if you're still afraid of swimming." Mark's quiet voice interrupts my thoughts.

"What?"

"We were talking about swimming earlier. If you're okay with it, I can just hold you in the water. I won't let go."

I get another text from Ten. 'Don't see any banging yet :(' I look up to the window of Johnny's bedroom and see a silhouette of them standing there. Mark waves at them and I can't see that far but I can tell that they're smiling before they close the curtain.

I put my phone away and respond to Mark. "It's really okay. You don't have to do that."

He moves from leaning on the dock beside me to being right in front of me, laying his hands on my knees.

"I pinky promise you'll be safe. Please swim with me."

Once again, the reflection of the moon does me dirty, illuminating the sincerity in Mark's eyes. I can't say no. (I absolutely could but I won't)

I take a deep breath. "Okay." I don't bother removing my shirt since he didn't either. Mark places his hands lightly around my waist and begins pulling me down into the water.

"Don't drop me." I say. I've done this before but with Johnny and he's much bigger and stronger than Mark so I can't say that I'm not a little worried he won't be able to carry me.

Mark just smiles and pulls me down until I'm no longer on the dock.

My first instinct is to immediately flail because I believe I will sink all the way to the bottom of the lake but Mark's grip on me tightens, obviously noticing how my body tensed up when I got into the water.

"I got you." He doesn't let me go as promised and we stay close to the dock, my back against the wood.

"See. All safe."

Being in the water isn't as scary as I thought it would be. I'm glad Mark is here with me. And I'm glad that we didn't leave the dock, giving me the option to change my mind and climb back up if I want to.

"What are you thinking?" He asks.

I haven't spoken since I got in the water. Maybe it's the calmness of the lake itself or the fact that Mark is holding me, but I can't think of anything to say.

"Nothing really." I feel the urge to wrap my legs around Mark's waist but I fight against it.

"Well I'm thinking of us."

I smile, staring at the moon. "Yeah. I really enjoy hanging out at the lake with you guys every once in a while.

"No Y/N." I look over at him. "I mean us. This."

I shake my head. There's always been something between us but it was so minute that we never spoke of it. "There is no this Mark. You know that. We both know that."

"Do we really?"

The water around us seems so still. The only movement is from our too close together chests, rising and falling at the same time. My eyes drift to his lips and I can't help but wonder how they would feel against my own.

Mark notices me staring, closes his eyes, and leans in but right when our lips almost touch, I turn my head to the side. His lips graze my cheek which is better than nothing I suppose. As much as my heart wants to, I cannot kiss him and add on to the already long list of reasons he would rather stay here than go to Vancouver. A kiss would only hold him back even more and I know how much he wants to leave.

"I'm sorry Mark." I lean my head into the nook of his neck hoping he won't push me away after what I just did. I don't want this to be awkward but I tighten my grip on his shoulders, not wanting to rid myself of his touch just yet.

"I understand." I want him to pull my face back up and tell me all the thoughts he's had about us. I want him to try to kiss me again, and this time I may kiss him right back. But he doesn't. Instead, his hold on my waist never loosens or falters even though I know his arms and whole body must be tired from swimming for so long.

I hope what we have won't falter either.

~~~

Sometimes when Mark calls me and I hear everything he's been doing and everyone he's been talking to, I wish I would've kissed him back at the lake. The people in Vancouver sound really pretty. And he always sounds really happy. What would've changed if I did kiss him? Maybe he would have went to college here and then we could be a cute couple like Ten and Johnny. But there's no telling what would happen. I just know that I'll always have a best friend halfway across the world.

But hey, there's always summer break.

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quiet-onset · 4 years

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In The Wind

Pairing: Steve Rogers x black!Reader

TW: alcohol consumption, implied sexy times, a pinch of fluff and a fuck ton of angst

Word Count: 10.2k (this is the longest single fic I’ve ever written by like 4-5k words, i'm never doing this again lmao)

A/N: Broke = cacw discourse, Woke = using cacw canon to write angsty fics at 3 am. this is only kind of edited so it is what it is lol. Enjoy!

You weren’t sure if you regretted meeting him.

You didn’t know how you felt anymore. You knew you thought of him everyday. You knew that you longed to feel the warmth and heaviness of his body against yours. You also knew that you were angry, so damn angry for making you feel these things. For making you miss him, want him.

But did you regret him? You weren’t sure.

The first time you met shouldn’t have happened. Steve knew that. He should’ve been more careful. Checked more security cameras, spied a little better. But espionage was always Natasha’s expertise, and, for now, he was running it solo. So when he ran from the FBI in Hell’s Kitchen, he had no one to blame but himself.

He had been jumping from roof to roof, dreading the sound of the approaching helicopter. He knew if they got that spotlight on him, it’d be over. So, instead of jumping to the next roof, he dropped onto the fire escape, traveling down until he found an open window.

He climbed inside and pressed himself to the adjacent wall, heart pounding against his ribcage. He listened as the helicopter continued on, searching for him with no success. Just as he allowed himself to breathe, he heard the cock of a gun.

When he turned his head, there you stood, curls tied up with a blue silk scarf, shorts and a T-shirt two sizes too big, with a shotgun aimed and ready to fire. “Get out of my house.”

Steve took a step toward you, watching as you steadied your hand. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“I’m the one with the gun here, dude. So, unless you want a chest full of buckshot, get—“

Finally, you saw him clearly. His hair was a tad longer and he had the slightest bit of stubble, but he was still recognizably Steve Rogers. After all, the news had his and his friends mugshots plastered on every channel. You barely managed to part your lips for a gasp when Steve heard the thunder of footsteps come down the hall outside your door.

“Look,” He said, “I’m sorry, I just needed—“

Three solid bangs on your front door. “FBI, open up!”

You lowered the gun as you looked back at Steve. It was clear that he was trying and failing to come up with a new route of escape. Three more bangs, and you sighed. “One second!” You called.

You handed him the gun and quickly guided him to your bedroom. “Get under the bed and wait.”

He followed your instructions while you grabbed your robe and scurried to the door. You swung the door open as you brushed a stray curl away from your face. “Can I help you?”

Two men pushed past you and into your apartment as the first one spoke. “We need to inspect your apartment.”

“Do you have a warrant?”

“Are you hiding something?” He returned.

“Asking for a warrant isn’t an admission of guilt, agent.” You raised a brow. “Besides, what would the FBI be looking for here?”

“Steven Grant Rogers.” He eyed your living room suspiciously before continuing down the hall, leaving you to follow close behind.

“Captain America?” You snorted. “What would he be doing in some random woman’s apartment in Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You tell me.”

He walked into your bedroom, and your heartbeat sped up. You had no idea why you were putting yourself at risk for a stranger, but somehow, it felt right. Like you were doing what you were meant to be doing in that moment.

“Agent, I am not hiding Captain America in my fucking bedroom. Alright? I was getting ready for bed, actually, when you banged on my door like I was the one being arrested.”

He walked up to you, invading your space. He looked down at you, tried to make you feel small. It was a popular tactic, one you were used to. You watched as the other two agents came in and began to search. “We have orders to search every apartment. If you don’t want to cooperate, we can arrest you, too. Ma’am.”

“This might be news to you, but I have rights, same as you. You need a warrant to search my house unless I’m an immediate danger to the public.” You told him. “However, considering you’ve already searched my entire home, I suggest you leave now while I’m still thinking about not suing you.”

“Suing us?” He chuckled.

“I have some lawyer friends, same ones that put Wilson Fisk in jail. If they can get a life sentence for a man like Fisk, imagine what they could do with this story. Agent.”

You watched as they all stopped, including the agent who was just about to bend over to look under the bed. The agent’s brow twitched as he stepped back and gave you an indignant look. “That’s what I thought.” You said. “Feel free to come back with a warrant.”

Moments later, your front door was locked, and you went back to your room where Steve sat on your bed. You almost winced when you saw him in the light. His right eye was beginning to swell, his lip was split, and his leg looked like he needed stitches. He placed the shotgun beside him. “Do you really know the lawyers who took down Wilson Fisk?”

“Not at all.”

He chuckled and stood on his feet. You knew he was trying not to put too much pressure on his leg, but his scrunched brow told you he was failing. When he managed to steady himself, he saw the shine of concern in your eyes. “I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“Super soldier healing. I’ll be fine.”

“Let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough for me already.” He told you. “I know that couldn’t have been easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I’m an Avenger, but I’m not blind.” He said sincerely. “America’s fucked up, and anyone who’s not white or rich gets the short end of the stick.”

You paused, surprised that he’d explained himself so outright. He seemed unapologetic about his statement, eyes only wavering when the pain became too much. A sigh with the faintest remnants of a smile passed through your lips. You walked a few steps over to your dresser and pulled open your drawer. Out of it, you pulled a bottle of whiskey and a first aid kit. “I’m already abetting a fugitive, Rogers. Might as well add aiding to the crime. Sit down. I’ll get some ice for your eye.”

Steve usually didn’t take well to orders. But you, you made something in him stir, if only for a moment. Some part of him that longed for someone else to take over. To make him forget about being an alleged criminal, about the friends that he’d lost. The part of himself that he’d lost.

So he sat down.

When you came back, you began tending to his wounds. Your hands were delicate as you tried your best not to cause him any additional pain. He almost chuckled at your caution and grace. In some dark part of his mind, he knew the damage he could cause you. Yet, you were the one asking every other second if he was okay.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this.” He said.

“I didn’t have to not shoot you either, but here we are.” You answered, tilting your head. You handed him the bottle of whiskey as you got ready to stitch the wound in his thigh. “You might wanna drink some of that.”

He chuckled, “Alcohol doesn’t really do anything for my senses.”

“Right. Super soldier, I forgot. Guess you’ll have to brave it.”

“Not the first time.” He let out a small hiss as you moved the fabric away from the cut.

Your eyes flickered up to him for a moment, catching the clench of his jaw, sharp and tense. “So you sneak into people’s houses to hide from the FBI often?”

“I was, um, handling some business in Hell’s Kitchen. Wasn’t paying attention, and they found me.”

“Wow. Steve Rogers outsmarted by the FBI.” You joked. He chuckled along with you as you finished stitching him up. You offered him the bottle once more. “It won’t get you drunk, but it’ll burn on the way down, and I have a feeling that’s what you really need.”

He looked taken aback for a moment. You imagined that not many people were so straightforward with him. He was called Captain for a reason, you supposed. Not many people told Steve what he needed to hear — that was why the Avengers was perfect for him. Nobody was afraid to tell Steve how it really was. But now, with him being a fugitive, lots of people were scared. Of him or of what he represented, he wasn’t sure.

But not you.

He took the bottle with a small smile.

“Well,” Steve spoke when the silence got a bit too loud for his liking. “I should be going. If that agent’s attitude was any indication, they’ll probably be back with a warrant. That’ll give you some time to get rid of the evidence.”

“Evidence?”

“My blood?” He chuckled.

You looked down at your hands and saw the faint tint of blood on them. You let out a short laugh and nodded, “Right.”

The way you looked at each other was far too comfortable for two strangers. Each set of eyes held a story. The ever-stretching line of inconceivable loss in his and the struggle to overcome social hardships in yours. Both your hearts were hardened in some ways, and you could both sense it. When it became too much, your gaze flickered to the ground for a quick moment. “Don’t pull those stitches, Captain. I won’t redo them.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He said with a weak salute. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t get caught.”

The next afternoon, the FBI would return with a warrant and search your apartment as you watched the news. The headline?

Captain America in the wind once more.

---

“I’ll be fine.” You slurred to your friend. “I can get upstairs just fine.”

Your friend, Heather, shot you a disapproving gaze as you hiccuped, the alcohol in your body starting to slowly wear off. She unlocked the car door with a sigh. “Text me when you’re inside.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not moving until you do.” She added. “And lock your door!”

“Alright!”

Although you stumbled up the stairs and eventually had to take your heels off, you made it safely to your apartment. The text you sent as you locked the door was incoherent, but you knew your friend would understand. You dropped your heels at the door and padded into your living room.

“Your window is broken.”

You gasped at the sudden deep voice that cut through the dark, only recognizing him when he turned on the lamp. There sat Steve Rogers once more. He looked up at you with a furrowed brow, noticing your glazed over eyes. You threw your phone at him for scaring you, which he caught easily. “You can’t just break into someone’s house and sit in the dark! That’s weird!”

“I couldn’t risk anyone seeing me.” He explained quickly. He stood, “Are you drunk?”

“What’s it to you?”

“You’re drunk in an apartment with a broken window. Anyone could break in. I did.”

“Yeah, which is still weird.” You hiccuped. “What are you doing here, Captain?”

He was at a loss for words. He didn’t have an answer. Not one that made any sense, at least. He couldn’t explain the feeling, but he couldn’t forget you. Your eyes were burned into his mind, your bravery forever in his heart. He tried everything to forget you, but nothing worked. Whether it was attraction, infatuation, or some feeling that could only be expressed in another language, he didn’t know. Still, he couldn’t tell you that. Especially not while you were drunk. So he settled for, “Steve. Call me Steve.”

You paused, crossing your arms over your chest. “Alright. Steve.”

Steve felt a shiver travel down his spine. He would never admit he liked the way his name slipped past your lips. He watched you stumble over to the couch and helped you sit down. “Happy drunk or sad drunk?”

You snorted, “Both.”

“Wow, two for one.”

“I broke up with my cheating boyfriend.” You explained. “I’m happy to be rid of that asshole, but it still hurts, you know?”

Steve nodded, holding back a chuckle as you burped quietly. You groaned and threw your head back as you realized you would probably throw up soon.

“He didn’t deserve you.” He told you.

You laughed bitterly, “I know.”

As if on cue, you stood and ran to the bathroom with Steve quick on your heels. He watched as you dropped to your knees over the toilet bowl and emptied the contents of your stomach inside. You pulled a few stray curls out of your face and held them back, praying you hadn’t gotten any vomit in your hair. You felt Steve’s presence behind you and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should… you should just go.”

But of course, Steve was never good at taking orders.

He marched up to your sink and found a few bobby pins before opening up your medicine cabinet. He found some painkillers for later and took them out for you. He quietly walked up behind you and softly cupped your hands with his own. You barely had the chance to protest before another wave of sickness washed over you.

“Let me help you.” Steve said gently. “I’m just returning the favor.”

You knew there wasn’t much you could do for yourself, and you couldn’t deny that you needed help. So you let go of your hair and allowed him to pin it back. His warm hands then fell to your shoulders as he spoke. “I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and some crackers he’d found in your cabinet. He sat with you on the cold tile floor, flushing the toilet as you turned away from it. He offered the glass silently, and you drank it in a few gulps. You looked over at him as he worked on opening the crackers. “You know, you’re good at this.”

He chuckled, seeing that you were starting to sober up. “You’re not the first drunk person I’ve taken care of.”

You took a cracker from the packet. “When was the first time?”

“You don’t have to humor me.”

“If I were humoring you, you’d know.” You scoffed playfully. “I want to know. At the very least, it’ll keep my mind off of the nausea.”

He shook his head with a short laugh as he took out a cracker for himself. “I was fifteen. My best friend Bucky told me he had a surprise, that I had to come over after school. I didn’t suspect anything until I saw the brown paper bag in his hands.”

“Wait, you’re, like, ninety. Isn’t this during Prohibition?”

“He always knew a guy who knew a guy.” Steve nodded with a smirk. “His parents were out of town, and his sisters only kept his secret because he let them taste it. I already had enough health problems back then, so I wasn’t really interested in getting drunk. But Bucky…”

“As drunk as me?”

“Oh no, much worse. Absolutely shit-faced.” A smile tugged at his lips as you laughed. He admired the way your glazed eyes lit up with happiness for those few mere moments. “I ended up in the bathroom with him all night.”

You smiled softly as you nibbled on another cracker. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Steve felt his chest tighten at the smile on your lips. His brain told him to stop whatever he was feeling. He had no business barging into your house, into your life. He had other things, bigger things to worry about. Yet, he sat here on the floor of your bathroom, worrying about whether you were going to vomit again or if you needed more water. It was stupid of him to let this feeling go so far, he knew. But he couldn’t help it. Not when you smiled like that.

He reached over to the sink and grabbed the painkillers, giving you two. “I’m gonna get you some more water. Keep eating those crackers.”

“Yes, sir, captain sir.” You gave him a weak salute. He saluted back with a playful chuckle before leaving to get more water, not sure if this behavior was your true self or the remaining alcohol.

When he returned, he found you clumsily taking off your makeup. “That couldn’t wait until tomorrow?” He asked, handing you the glass of water.

“No. Do you know how bad that is for your skin? I’m too pretty to damage my skin.” You chuckled before downing the pills.

Steve looked to the ground, making a quiet noise of agreement. He hadn’t expected you to stop drinking the water and ask him what he said. He was caught red-handed. “What?”

“What did you say?” You asked.

“It’s not important. I just…” He sighed. “I agreed with you. About you being pretty.”

“Oh.”

He shrugged. You’d have recognized the slight shyness in his voice if you were fully sober. “I’m not blind.”

It got quiet after that. You couldn’t help the way your mind was racing alongside your heart. The space between you both was so small. All it would take a gust of wind, a slight nudge and the space would be filled. And for some reason, you longed to fill it. As your thoughts caught up with you, you remembered that you’d just met him. He didn’t even know your name. The longing you had made no sense. Not to mention, you were still a little drunk and nauseous. You couldn’t act before you considered the outcomes. “Y/N.”

“What?” Steve’s brow furrowed.

“My name. It’s Y/N.” You stepped back and took a deep breath. “I just realized I never told you.”

“Right.” He mimicked your movements, putting a bit more distance between you. “You should get some rest.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ll, um, head to bed right now.”

Steve nodded once before giving you one last long look. He told himself that this would be the last time, that he wouldn’t give in to that insistent tugging in his heart. If this was the last time he’d see you, he wanted to remember. You watched him as he walked back down the hallway, stopping just before he entered the living room.

“Fix your window, Y/N.” He called.

You smiled. “I will.”

“Someone could break in and sit in the dark.”

“I get it, Steve.”

And just as quickly as he’d arrived, he was gone.

---

A few months pass before you see him again. And you have to be honest with yourself, you spend every second thinking about him.

You weren’t sure what it was about him. Sure, he was Captain America, but that didn’t seem to matter when he came through your window. In your apartment, he’s just a man. He’s just Steve Rogers. Sure he was on the run from every conceivable government authority, but he was running from more than that. It was like he was running from himself, from everything that made him Captain America. And without fail, all the running somehow led back to you.

It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with. At work, you’d see his smile in the reflection of your computer screen. When you were with your friends, you could hear Steve’s laughter as he recounted his childhood. Even on the few dates you’d been on, the only thing on your mind was Steve’s voice calling you pretty.

And that was the annoying part. You knew you were pretty. You knew your value and how much you were worth, but when he said it, it felt unreal. There were butterflies in your stomach, a feeling you hadn’t felt since you were a teenager. It was strange having such a visceral reaction to a statement you already knew to be true, but it wasn’t the statement. It was the man making it.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear.

You were walking home from a friend’s when two men in ski masks stopped you. Guns locked and loaded, they shouted at you to give them your wallet and phone. Your hands were raised in hopes that they wouldn’t shoot, but they simply yelled louder.

“Okay, okay.” You started calmly. You moved your hands slowly to your purse, digging around the bottom in a frantic search. You flinched as they told you to hurry up.

Suddenly, a man dropped down from a nearby fire escape. Steve.

As soon as he snatched the guns, Steve crushed the barrels with his bare hands. A fist flew at one guy’s face while you grabbed the pepper spray at the bottom of your purse and sprayed the other.

You watched as Steve kept going with a fierce look in his eyes. It was unlike anything you’d expect from Captain America. No, this was sheer rage. You marched up behind him and grabbed him by the shoulders, pulling him away. He only allowed it as the two men scurried away with blood dripping down their faces.

“Steve, what the hell?” You dragged him into a nearby alley. “What are you doing out in broad daylight?”

He ignored your questions and placed two large hands on your cheeks, tilting your head this way and that as he checked you for injury. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

“Steve, stop it. I’m fine. What are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to your apartment when I saw those guys trying to rob you.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why were you going to my house?” You asked. “Why do you keep coming to my house?”

And once again, Steve was speechless. He couldn’t explain the panic in his heart when he saw you being held at gunpoint. He couldn’t explain the blind rage he felt as his fists collided with their bodies. He wanted to believe he had no idea why he kept coming back to see you, but he knew why. Despite his reputation, he was never great with his feelings. At least not these kinds. “Y/N, can we just.. Can we talk? Please?”

You sighed, crossing your arms. “Meet me at my place. And try not to make another scene. You’re a fugitive, Steve.”

He’d made it there before you, but was unable to get in. See, you’d taken his advice and fixed your window. So, he stood on the fire escape, hoping to God that no one would look and see him as he waited for you. When you got back, you rushed over and flipped the latch, pushing the window up with a squeak of the frame. “Again, what are you doing here in the middle of the day?”

“You fixed your window.”

“Yeah, you told me to.” You stepped aside so he could slip in. “Thanks, by the way.”

“Y/N, they were robbing you. You don’t have to—“

“No, not that. I mean, also that, but I meant thanks for that night a few months ago.”

His head dropped as he let out a weak chuckle. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“I remember waking up with the worst hangover. I also remember the night before.”

“Everything?”

You nodded.

You could see the gears in his head begin to turn, giving you a moment to look over him. His beard was thick and full, and his hair was longer than before. Dressed in a black combat suit, you wondered where he just came from. He obviously had bigger fish to fry, so what kept him coming back to Hell’s Kitchen.

Then, without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out before placing it on the table between you.

A cell phone. Albeit a very old one, but a cell phone nonetheless.

“I wanted to give you this.” He said, “For… emergencies.”

You stared at the phone, your brow furrowed, before looking back up at him. “Steve—“

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” His eyes were shut tight as he emptied his heart. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. No matter where I’m going or what mission I’m on, you’re always on my mind. I know it doesn’t make any sense, and I understand if it freaks you out, but I needed to tell you.”

“Steve—“

“And even if you don’t feel the same, just keep the phone. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened and you needed to contact me but couldn’t.”

You paused as he took a deep breath, finally opening his eyes. You looked at him expectantly. “Are you done?”

“I think so.”

You silently picked up the flip phone, chuckling because it was just so Steve-like. You opened it and realized that his number was the only one programmed into the phone. You smiled softly as you raised an eyebrow, “Does it work?”

“I just—” Steve let out a short laugh of disbelief. “Yes, it works.”

Steve watched as you pressed a button and held the phone up to your ear. You looked up at the ceiling, clicking your tongue as it rang. With a grin on his lips, he dug his phone out of his other pocket and flipped it open. “Hello?”

“I like you, too, dummy.”

---

Turns out, you changed the definition of emergencies only.

It had been four or five months since you last saw Steve. He’d spent the night after you both confessed to the feelings that you’d been repressing since the day you met. You helped him peel off the black suit he wore and showered with him. You helped him scrub off the blood that had dried into his skin, and he massaged your shoulders, tight and tense from the stress of your own life. And later, you’d both gotten into some activities that made you both need another shower.

But now, you were alone. Your place felt so empty without him. It was only one night, yet your whole life was changed. You were acutely aware of the sound his bare feet made against the hardwood floor. The warmth of his chest against your back as you slept in bed. The low timbre of his voice when he just wakes up.

Plus, it was the day before his birthday.

You knew how stupid that sounded. Steve Rogers was a fugitive on an international scale. He had plans to be in a different state or country practically every other week — he hardly had time to celebrate about being a year older. Yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking that he deserved it. He deserved to do something as mundane as celebrate his birthday.

So, instead of using the burner for its intended purpose — emergencies — you called him.

And received no answer.

You sighed and snapped the phone shut. You held the phone against your lips as you thought through a plan. When you had it all figured out, you smiled, wondering if that was how Steve felt when he finally perfected a plan. You grabbed your purse and headed to the nearest grocery.

You strolled through the decorations aisle with your cart, stopping as you saw an employee, a teenager, removing something from the display. As you got closer, you realized what it was and frowned.

Fourth of July balloons with Steve’s shield plastered on them.

The employee saw you eyeing them and smiled gently. “Got a call from the owner himself to remove them.”

“Crazy, right?”

“Not that much.” She shrugged. “I mean, he did break the law.”

“Yeah, to do the right thing.”

“How do we know he was right, though?”

You stared at a picture of Steve’s shield and saw all it represented. Hope, justice, bravery — you couldn’t explain how you knew. You just did. “He was.” You told the kid.

The kid watched you stare aimlessly at the balloons. She wasn’t sure why you were so invested, she could tell it meant a lot to you. She pulled two packets out of the box and handed them to you.

“They were taken out of circulation so security won’t pick it up.” She explained. “Just don’t let the manager see.”

You looked over at her, not even realizing that you’d zoned out. You smiled at her and took the balloons before slyly stuffing them in your purse. “Thank you.”

Your smile returned as you gathered all your other supplies before walking over to the bakery. The man behind the counter smiled as you approached. “Last minute Fourth of July cake?”

You chuckled, “No, not Independence Day. A birthday actually.”

“What would you like on it?”

“Do you, um, do you mind decorating it with Captain America’s shield? Or maybe just red, white, and blue in general?”

The baker’s smile widened. “You’re the first person to ask for that this year. I’m glad.” He began gathering the frosting he’d need. “I don’t believe anything they say about him. He’s a good man.”

You smiled to yourself. “Yeah. The best.”

Meanwhile, Steve was in Philadelphia, trying to get some intel into Tony’s future plans. He just got back to the quinjet when Natasha called his name from the pilot seat.

“You’re never leading the mission again.” Steve teased her, touching two fingers to his split bottom lip as he stood just to the side of her seat.

“Afraid of getting a little banged up?” She chuckled.

“More like tired of it.” He replied. “Bucky and I have been taking all the beatings lately while you and Sam somehow always manage to come out unscathed.”

“You and Bucky should do better at your jobs then.”

Steve let out a little laugh as she lifted the jet into the sky and immediately turned on the cloaking mechanism. He braced himself above her head and looked out over the clouds. “So why did you call me?”

“‘Cause somebody called you.”

“What?”

“That mysterious burner you always carry around? It rang while you were in the field.”

His eyes widened as he reached for the flip phone, seeing the ‘Missed Call’ notification glaring back at him. He turned back to Natasha, “I need you to take me back to the city.”

Her brow furrowed as he began packing a duffel bag toward the back of the jet. “What, New York?”

“Anywhere is fine. I’ll get to where I need to be.”

“Steve, we’re supposed to be headed for Switzerland in a week—“

“Then, I have a week.”

“Tony and the feds will be on our asses soon if we don’t get out of the country.”

Steve turned to look at her and saw that she’d put the jet on autopilot. She was looking right back at him in that way that she always did. If there was anything Natasha Romanoff was good at, it was knowing when someone was lying, even by omission. But Steve was no victim of her skills. He was her best friend. And that worried look in his eyes? It scared her.

Steve sighed. “There’s someone on the other end of that phone. Someone I really care about. She’s the only one with that number and I told her to call me if there’s an emergency.”

Natasha shifted her weight onto her other leg, her hands on her hips. “Is she cute?”

“Natasha.” He smiled softly.

“Where can I drop you off?”

“Near Hell’s Kitchen.”

She turned on her heel and began punching coordinates into the navigation system. “I get to choose where we go after Switzerland.”

You arrived back at your apartment a few hours later, finally gathering everything you needed to pull off your plan. You smiled to yourself as you locked your front door and threw your keys onto the side table.

Suddenly, when you turned the lights on, a man emerged from the hallway, and you let out a loud gasp. You dropped the bags you had been carrying, only calming when you realized that it was only Steve.

“Steve!”

You stepped over the bags and raced into his arms. He wrapped his arms tight around you, cradling the back of your head in his large palm. He couldn’t help but release a breath of relief as he felt the comfortable weight of your body against his. He pulled away from you and held your face in his hands, eyes searching for any sign of injury. “Are you okay?”

“Steve, I’m fine. I promise. Why are you so worried?”

“You called me on the burner.”

Oops. You’d totally forgotten about that. You smiled sheepishly, “About that...“

“Y/N—“ He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, preparing for your explanation.

“I’m sorry! You were gone, and I missed you. Then, I remembered I had a way of contacting you.”

“It’s for emergencies only.” He scolded you.

“I know, I know. It’s just that I missed you a lot, and your birthday is coming up, and—“

“My birthday?”

You looked behind you at the bags you’d dropped on the ground. Steve followed your line of sight before spotting something that had fallen out. He stepped away from you to pick it up and inspected it carefully. His head dropped and hung between his shoulders, a quiet laugh spilling from his lips. “Captain America balloons?”

“And other non-Captain America stuff.” You added defensively. “Not the cake though. That’s got Cap all over it.”

“You got a cake?”

You gasped, “The cake!”

You ran to the bags and fished out the one carrying the small circular cake, frowning when you found it. The cake was still in one piece, but the frosting was ruined, mushed against the top of the container. “Shit! Ugh, none of this is going how I planned.”

You couldn’t see beyond the messed up cake, but Steve’s eyes had the softest look. “You had a plan?”

“I was going to have a little party. Blow up balloons, light some candles, have cake. And I was going to send you pictures so you knew I remembered and that I wished you here with me and,” You looked back up at him and saw the gentle look in his eyes, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He smiled, “No reason. You know my birthday is tomorrow, right?”

“I didn’t know what time zone you were in.”

He let out a laugh and slid his arms around your waist. He kissed you so gently, more so than he ever had before. There was no lust behind the kiss. No promise of anything more than his tongue sweeping across yours as he pulled you closer still. Nothing but care, adoration, and a little four letter word that neither of you dared to say.

When you pulled away for air, you rested your cheek on his shoulder, peering up at him as you wondered how he stumbled into your life. “What was that for?”

“For the party.” He pressed a kiss to the crown of your curls. “C’mon. These balloons won’t blow themselves up.”

---

Since that last visit, Steve had made it a point to visit you more frequently. Every two months, at midnight on the dot, Steve was at your window with his duffel bag, a small smile on his face. It was working well for you both, and his variation in changing locations kept the feds and Tony off his trail.

At least, that’s what you thought.

It was your birthday the next time you saw Steve, but it wasn’t exactly planned — at least not on your end. Bucky was flying the quinjet over the city, dropping Steve off so he could surprise you for your birthday. Then, Steve spotted a squadron of black vans. They didn’t seem to be following the jet, which was good, but they were following a route that Steve was all too familiar with.

“Shit.”

“What is it?” Bucky asked.

“They’re going to Y/N’s place.”

“What? How did the feds figure that one out?”

Just then, an object shot across the sky above them. It didn’t detect the jet thanks to Vision’s modifications, but they could very clearly see who it was. Steve glared at the hot rod red and gold suit as it flew further away from them. “The feds didn’t.”

You were lounging in bed, enjoying your day off from work when you heard a knock on your window. Your brow scrunched as you wondered why Steve would be here. Sure, it was your birthday, but he was scheduled for a mission today. Then you realized, he must’ve been lying so he could surprise you for your birthday. With a smile on your lips, you slipped out of bed and walked down the hall, prepared to give Steve the biggest hug you could muster.

Then the smile dropped. Because it wasn’t Steve outside your window.

It was Tony Stark.

He was in a suit, in typical Tony Stark fashion, the Iron Man suit keeping itself suspended just behind the rails of your fire escape. He knocked on the glass once more with a slightly facetious smile on his face. You walked up to the window and unlocked it, pushing it up for him. “Was there a reason you couldn’t use the front door?” You asked.

“Tony Stark, nice to meet you.” When you stepped back, he swung one leg over the window sill, then the other, stepping in and giving the room a once over. “Do you know why I’m here?”

“No. I’ve only ever seen you on television.”

“Does the camera add ten pounds?”

“It does something.”

“You flatter me.”

“I don’t.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed, amusement tugging at the side of his lips as he picked up a picture that sat on your mantle. “You sure hold a lot of animosity for someone you’ve never met.”

“I can’t imagine you haven’t experienced worse.” You took the frame from him as you replied.

“Aren’t you wondering how I knew to come here?” He asked. “How I knew to knock on your window? How I knew you’d answer?”

You stood silent, glaring at him.

“Really? You’re gonna make me do the whole monologue thing?” He asked, only to be met with more silence. He huffed dramatically, “Fine. I’ve been trying to track him for a long time now, Y/N. I’ve tried the internet, tracking the quinjet, cell towers. Cell towers were a big one. But I also know Steve isn’t stupid. He wouldn’t risk calling anyone while on the run, especially not on the fancy new phones we have today.”

“Is this going somewhere?” You watched as he paced around the room, trying to keep your heart steady. You still had no idea where this was leading, but you were sure he was going to tell you.

“So I figured, maybe he’d buy a burner. And lo and behold, he did. Janky flip phone, real two thousand five looking. But he paid good money to have GPS and the tracking number erased, so cell towers were useless. Until you.”

You knew he was baiting you into giving Steve up, into admitting that you knew Steve personally. Although you would never tell him about Steve, you were on edge as you thought about the many ways you could have left him vulnerable. Still, even as a thousand scenarios played out in your head, deep down, you knew that you hadn’t been anything less than discreet. The only way they could have known is—

“You had me tailed.”

“And you were a hard one to tail, I will say. You were very careful.” He admitted. “But that’s not how I learned about you.”

You watched as Tony fished through his pants pocket before pulling out a flimsy sheet of film, burnt around the edges. Something Tony had found in the aftermath of one of Steve’s crazy intel missions in a hole-in-the-ground government facility. He walked up to the table that stood between you both and slid it across to you. As your eyes widened in surprise, Tony knew he had you. It was a picture of you and Steve, taken on a polaroid he’d brought a few visits before.

A flip of the latch and he was in for the rest of the week.

You squealed as he lifted you off your feet, spinning you around. When he finally set you down, you pulled him in for a kiss, slow with the promise of something more. He chuckled lowly as he pulled away only for you to whine. “I wanna show you something.”

“Show me later.”

You swatted his hands, urging him to drop the duffel bag he’d been carrying, and led his arms around your waist. One long and very tempting kiss later, he was pulling away again. “Y/N.”

“I’m busy. Giving you my best work here.” You pressed wet kisses down his neck. Then, you settled on the spot just below his ear, always guaranteed to make him lose his mind. He had to fight the urge to throw you over his shoulder and take you to the bedroom, his hands clutching tight to your hips. Then, he pushed you back to an arm’s length and took a deep breath to calm himself.

“I’m gonna show you one thing, and then, I promise, I am all yours.”

You sighed dramatically, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. “Fine. But this better be good, Steven.”

You watched as he quickly slid off a backpack that you’d only then noticed. Digging around the inside, his eyes lit up when he finally found what he was looking for. He dropped the backpack and showed you what was in his hands.

“A camera?”

“A polaroid.” He added excitedly.

“Babe, that’s a little old school. Even for you.” You chuckled.

“This is a newer model, thank you very much.” He said, shaking the small black camera for emphasis. “I thought about a digital camera, but that’s the issue. They’re digital. If someone got their hands on the SD card, they could connect you to me.”

“I don’t care, Steve.”

“I do.” He took a step closer. He cupped your cheek with one hand and caressed his thumb across it lovingly. “If I ever get caught, I don’t want them to find out you were helping me. You’d go to prison.”

It was at that moment that you came to a scary realization. You didn’t care if you went to jail because you’d be doing it for Steve, for what you believed was the greater good. That was when you knew you loved him. Neither of you had told each other, but the sentiment could be felt every time you saw each other. It was the spark between your fingers when you held hands. The way he’d twist your hair for you when you were too sleepy to do it yourself. The way you’d scrub blood off his body when his visit happened to coincide with a mission gone bad.

You both knew, but it was impossible to say.

“So,” You changed the subject. “You bought a polaroid instead.”

“That way, no one will know except you and me.”

“Our secret.” You nodded, your smile finally matching his. You grabbed his arm and pulled it up in the air as you positioned the camera where you wanted to be.

“Oh, so now you’re an expert in photography?” He joked.

“Shut up and take the picture.”

Tony’s eyes softened as you picked up the photo and relived a memory that he’d never be able to understand. He couldn’t say it didn’t hurt — hunting the man he once considered to be one of his best friends. His heart hurt as he watched you swallow down your tears and refuse to cry in front of him. He didn’t want to be the one to bring Steve in. Still, he had to be.

“Where is he, Y/N?”

“Screw you.”

“Just tell me where he is, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

You opened the drawer to the table and fished out the lighter you’d bought for Steve’s birthday party. You held the polaroid to the flame and watched as the picture burned to ash, gently tossing it in the waste bin. “You have no physical proof that I know Steve Rogers.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my house. Now.”

Tony looked at you, defeated and heartbroken at the same time. He acquiesced, stepping back out the window while telling his agents to meet at the rendezvous point. When he stepped back into the Iron Man suit, he gave you a nod. Even behind his mask, you could tell he had a backup plan.

Once he was out of sight, you remembered the emergency plan that Steve had drilled into you once it was clear you were getting serious. Pack a bag, get some cash, and leave town. “He’ll find me.” You kept repeating to yourself as you stuffed your clothes into a spare duffle bag.

When you were done, you picked up the burner and called Steve, sighing when it went straight to voicemail. “Hey babe, it’s me.” You cringed at your shaky voice. “It’s an emergency this time. Tony Stark just showed up at my house. He knows about us. I’ve packed a bag, and I’m getting ready to go. I don’t know where. But you’ll find me. Right?” You shook your head, pushing away any bad thoughts. “Okay. Don’t come to my place, alright? Someone’s probably watching. Just find me.”

Just as you hung up, there was a knock on your window. Worried it was Stark or one of his men, you ran to the closet and picked up your shotgun. Then the window slid open.

Shit, you thought, I forgot the latch.

You inched down the hallway, taking deep breaths as you held the gun steady. Suddenly, someone stepped out, your finger pulled the trigger. Your brow furrowed, though, as the sound was contained in the palm of the man’s hand, light splintering off of it. “Bucky?”

“You must be Y/N.” He smiled kindly. “Steve sent me. I’m gonna get you somewhere safe, alright?”

Meanwhile, Tony flew across the city to the rendezvous point, an abandoned warehouse on the Upper East Side. He’d gotten confirmation from his agents just a minute ago that they’d arrived and were waiting for him on the scene, yet when he got there, nobody was to be found. He stepped carefully around the back of one of the black vans, finding one of the agents passed out beside it. “FRIDAY, scan the warehouse for heat signatures.”

“There’s no need.”

When Tony rounded the vehicle, he saw Steve standing across the room. He looked different — a full beard, longer hair, a new black tactical suit that Tony was sure he didn’t design — and yet, he still looked the same. A glimmer in his eyes that Tony once mistook for self-righteousness. He now knew that was just Steve’s determination. “This is a pretty stupid plan, Steve.”

“It would be if it was a plan.” Steve shrugged. “I’m winging it.”

“That’s an even worse plan.”

“Something tells me I’ll be fine.”

“You know I can’t let you walk out of here.”

“You never let me do anything. I’m only here to warn you.”

Tony’s head drooped as he let out a low chuckle. “This is about the girl. You do know her.”

“Stay away from her, Tony.” Steve snapped. “I mean it.”

“You think I’d hurt her?”

“Of course not. But I don’t put you above turning her in.”

“She aided and abetted a fugitive.”

“I’m not having this argument with you. I know you just came from her house. From here on out, stay away from her. This is your only warning.”

Tony was thankful that his mask could not emote as surprise overtook his face. This wasn’t one of Steve’s idle threats that would amount to nothing like when the Avengers were first formed. Tony knew he was serious because he recognized Steve’s expression. It’s the same one Tony got when anyone dared to threaten Pepper.

It was hard admitting that he understood where Steve was coming from. But he did.

“And what if I don’t?” Tony asked, just to gauge his response.

Steve discreetly let out a breath of relief as he heard Bucky confirm that you were safe on comms. Looking back at Tony, his expression was a mixture of darkness and regret. “I’m not sure either of us wants to find out.”

Then, there was a flash of light that all but blinded Tony. When his eyesight returned to normal, Steve was gone.

In the wind once more.

---

Screw him.

After Tony found out who you were, Steve had taken to a safe house — a cabin in upstate Pennsylvania. It had been another favor from T’Challa. The king bought it under an alias and allowed you to stay in it until it was safe for you to go back to New York.

And to be honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t like it. It was kind of a neighborhood, multiple cabins built around one large lake. None of your neighbors actually lived there; they were more like vacation homes. Still, over the few years, you got to know them. It was nice, having that small sense of normalcy.

Not to mention, it was much easier for Steve to visit this way. He’d come in the back entrance from the woods and stay a week or two, maybe more if he didn’t have any upcoming missions. In fact, it almost became like Steve’s home, too. When he wasn’t on a mission or in Wakanda, he was with you. And though Steve was always the first to say he no longer craved the normalcy of family, he couldn’t deny that being there, with you, was like a dream. A dream that was so close but still unattainable.

He was reminded of that when aliens invaded Earth. For the second time.

He up and left in a hurry one day, rushing out an explanation about how aliens were after Vision for some unknown reason. Still, he assured you that he’d come back, and you nodded sending him on his way with a quick kiss of his lips. It wasn’t unlike any of his other missions.

The difference this time was that he didn’t come back. At least, not for a year. Then, he was at your door again. No warning. No call. No cuts or bruises. Just him in the navy blue combat suit, silver star viciously ripped out. Thick beard, pink lips, and a look in his eyes that could kill. That is, if you didn’t know him. But you did know him. More than he’d like to admit.

So yeah, screw him.

How dare he just show up at your door without so much as a call. Steve had never gone that long without not seeing you, not speaking to you. You thought you meant at least that much to him. Even so, when you saw his face, you couldn’t help but want to be back in your old, beat-up apartment, eating junk and talking about shit that eventually wouldn’t matter until the sun rose.

Your first thought, though, was to slap him. So you did.

He’d seen it coming. He watched your small, soft hand that he’d held in his one too many times rise toward his cheek. He knew he could’ve stopped you. His instincts told him to stop you. But part of him knew he deserved it. He’d become the hero everyone needed, but in return he was no longer satisfied with the man he saw in the mirror.

He was a shell. Smiling for his friends when needed, saving the city, country, world when needed. Or trying to save the world. But inside he barely felt anything.

One of the few things he did feel for stood right in front of him. That’s why he let you slap him.

You knew the hit would barely phase him. He was a super soldier after all. The only thing he could feel was relief. Relief in knowing that you were here, in the flesh. Relieved knowing that the woman he adored hadn’t vanished into thin air. So he crashed his lips against yours in a passionate embrace.

Surprised didn’t begin to explain how you felt. Still, you could hardly complain when Steve’s lips were moving so tenderly against your own after so much time apart. You were still angry — how could you not be? — but you still worried for him. It all seemed to be happening too fast. From what you saw on the televised memorials, he’d lost half his team, his best friend. You were starting to wonder if he should do this so soon.

You were finally given an opportunity to breathe when Steve started to leave a trail of kisses down your neck. One of his hands slid down your body and grabbed onto your thigh, hooking it around his waist. “Steve.” You called.

He hummed, finding and nipping at the spot on your neck that made you gasp.

“Steve.”

His grip only tightened, pulling you as close as he could.

This time, you spoke more firmly, pushing his head away, “Steve.”

He looked at you, his breaths coming out in huffs. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry.” You admitted as you caught your breath. “Are you sure you—“

“I need to feel something.” He said quietly. He seemed almost ashamed as he spoke. “I wanna be sad. I wanna be angry. God, I want to be angry. I'd at least have something fueling me. But I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t feel anything. I feel empty. Every time I close my eyes, I see Bucky turning to dust. Or Vision’s head caved in. Sam’s gone, Wanda’s gone. I just, I need to feel something, anything. Please.”

The look in his eyes was one you’d never seen from him before. Distraught, hopelessness was only a start. In the year he’d been gone, you had no idea what he’d been through. And, to some extent, you know how he felt. You saw some of your own friends and family on the memorial reels. You’d cried yourself to sleep more than once, wondering if you’d ever see them again. You knew that as bad as you felt, Steve probably felt worse because in his mind, it was his job to save them.

And he couldn’t. Didn’t.

So you pulled him closer and pressed your lips to his. Walked him back toward the bedroom. You took care of him, made him feel, even if only for a moment, when he was completely and utterly numb. And you laid with him afterward until you both fell asleep, no idea what the morning would bring for you.

You’d find out that the morning would not be much kinder. When you woke up, Steve was slipping his combat suit back on. He cursed softly when he realized you were awake, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Right.” You huffed, your voice still groggy-sounding. “You just meant to leave before we could talk about what the hell happened last night.”

He sighed, “Y/N—”

“So this is what you do now? Show up and leave when it’s convenient for you?”

“Y/N, I’ve always been honest with you. You know that—”

“That you’re a fugitive? Half the fucking universe is gone, Steve. They’re not worried about you anymore.” You scoffed, sitting up and clutching the sheets to your bare chest. “You know what? For the first time, I thought I could be selfish, that you could be selfish.”

“I can’t.” His voice was barely above a whisper. He tried to veer away from the conversation as he glanced around the room and muttered to himself. “Where the fuck are my boots?”

“You’d saved so many people. So many lives kept safe because of you. And when you made one mistake in the eyes of the law, a whole lot of them turned on you. And you’d think that, of all things, would make you want to be selfish, just once.”

“I can’t afford to be selfish.” He replied. “People need me.”

“I need you, Steve.” Your voice was so quiet, so vulnerable, that it made him freeze. In all the years he’d known you, he’d never once heard you sound so helpless. Child-like, almost. “You were gone. For a year.”

“I know.” He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He came around to sit next to you, a comforting hand on your thigh as you leaned back on the headboard. “I’m sorry.”

“I had to watch my neighbors disappear into thin air. It was like everything was moving in slow motion, and for the first time in my life, I was terrified. Terrified because I didn’t know if I was next.”

“Y/N…”

“Then I saw the memorials. I lost my best friend, too. Heather.” You told him, a tear finally falling from your eye. “My aunt, two cousins, my nephew. They’re all gone.”

“I did everything I could.” Steve said, trying but failing to hold in his own tears.

“I know you did. That was not your fault. I know you would’ve given your life for the world.” Your brow furrowed as you looked over at him. You placed your hand over his, squeezing reassuringly. “That’s not why I’m upset with you. You didn’t come back to me, Steve. I knew you were okay, they said so on the news. I kept waiting and waiting, and you never came.”

“I couldn’t.” He wiped the tears from his face. Then, he abruptly stood from the bed. “I shouldn’t have come back here.”

“Steve—”

“It’s only hurting both of us to be here.” He quickly found his boots and slipped them on.

“Steve, stop it!” You slipped out of bed and grabbed your robe.

“Y/N, you don’t get it! I can’t do what I have to — I can’t be Captain America — if I’m always thinking about you!”

“Then tell me you don’t love me.”

His lips parted in shock as he tilted his head, eyes giving you a sad look. “That’s not fair.”

“Just tell me. That way, all this, this bullshit, will make sense.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You chuckled bitterly. “It’s not like we’ve said it to each other anyway.”

“Stop, Y/N.” He shook his head and walked out of the bedroom, toward the back door. You were quick to follow him, staying on his heels.

“Say it.”

“Don’t.”

“Say you don’t love me, Steve.”

“Goddamn it, you know I love you, Y/N!” He snapped, turning to face you. “I love you, alright?”

Everything about that moment was the portrait of juxtaposition. He’d just snapped at you, sure, but he also just said the three little words that you’d both been tiptoeing around for years. He finally professed his love to you, but his eyes were filled with sadness, with regret. Steve may have been the hero, but the way he was looking at you made it clear that he was the one who needed saving. Not that he’d ever let you.

And to think it was him who initially sought to be a part of your life.

“Then, why are you leaving?” You asked, tears still falling from your eyes.

“I can’t be Captain America and the man who loves you, and I do love you. So much.” He stepped closer, ignoring his own tears. He placed his warm hands on your cheeks and pulled you close, resting his forehead against yours. “Because if it ever comes down to everyone or you? I’m choosing you.”

You wished the moment could have been more tender. But your heart broke at the thought because looking in his eyes, you knew it was true. You grabbed his wrists tight, afraid to let go. “So this is it?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

He pressed his lips to yours in a bittersweet kiss. You could taste both your tears on your lips, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else in the whole world mattered except for the feeling of his lips on yours because this would be the last time you ever felt it. You prayed to whoever was listening that you’d never forget the feeling. His soft lips nudging yours apart, the heaviness of his hands on your face. You hoped you never forgot what it was like to feel him, his weight, his heat, his joy, his sadness. Everything about him, you hoped it would be ingrained in your mind because even though it had only been a few years since you met, you couldn’t imagine life without him anymore.

When he pulled away, it felt too soon. He looked at you one more time, his eyes puffy and red. He memorized your eyes and your lips, the contrast of your brown skin against his pale hands. He slid his hands down your neck, to your shoulders, then your forearms, finally willing himself to step back. He looked like he wanted to say something, and you hoped that he would. But nothing came out.

With one last glance, Steve was out your back door.

In the wind. For good.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader #captain america x black!reader #steve x reader #steve x black!reader #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #captain america fanfiction #steve rogers fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #steve rogers angst #angsty af #no one ever let me write a single fic this long ever again

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calliecat93 · 3 years

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Top 5 Things I Disliked About RWBY Volume 7

Well everyone, Volume 8 will soon be upon us. IDK about anyone else, but I’ve never been so anxious about a volume in the near seven years I’ve been watching this show. Not even V3 had me this nervous, and I knew by nature of it being a Tournament Arc that it was gonna be painful. But as we near the new volume, I want to reflect on the previous one. So I am bringing back my Likes/Dislikes posts… except this time I DON’T have to do twelve posts for six volumes in a week. Only gotta do one Volume for today and tomorrow. Phew!

While V6 remains my favorite volume,V7 was a very well done one and by far the best written thus far. It was honestly super hard to pick five things I didn’t like, and are all pretty minor honestly. Heck I expect V8 to address some of these since V7 was clearly the build-up. But I did manage to make a Top 5 Dislikes List. As always, this is just my personal opinion and you are free to disagree with me. Take everything here with a grain of salt. Anyways, that’s enough exposition. Let the countdown begin~!

#5. Too Many Characters/Lack of Focus

RWBY has a lot of characters. A lot, loooot of them. You can tell it’s an anime for that reason alone, haha. Volume 8 thought might be the winner in the amount of it’s cast. We have our main cast, which consists of nine characters already (ten if you count Ozpin and eleven if you count Maria), which is already a lot to keep up with. But in this volume we have Ironwood, Penny, Winter, the Ace-Ops, Pietro, Robyn and her Happy Huntresses, the Schnee Family, Watts, Tyrian, and the list goes on. And those are just the relevant ones.

To the show’s credit, the volume mostly handles the focus well. They make sure that ones like Ironwood and Penny get a proper amount of focus considering their importance in this volume specifically. They also do a lot to showcase characters like Robyn, Clover, and Marrow so that we understand what they’re like and care about them, which makes how things end up even sadder. That being said, it did cause some of cast I think to get the short end of the stick a bit. Characters like Maria and Jaune pretty much got barely anything, and Blake and Yang would have also been out of luck if not for their talk with Robyn in Chapter 7. Some of the Ace-Ops, like Elm and Vine, and the Happy Huntresses who aren’t Robyn also didn’t get a lot of focus and the latter especially only got bare minimum glimpses into their personalities. Even with characters I was happy with like Ruby, Weiss, Ren, and Nora I feel could have had more done with their arcs here (the latter two especially but we’ll get tot hat later) had there been less characters and/or more time.

This is Number 5 because not only is it a minor issue, but it’s kind of inevitable. Shows only get so much time and the characters we focused on needed that time. Ironwood’s downfall wouldn’t have been nearly as powerful if it weren’t center stage. It’s one of those hard choices where you want to see more, but the show just had other things that took priority for the sake of both production and the story. Ultimately, it was the right decision and at most just makes me wish there was more.

#4. Emotionally Draining

Again, minor. I wasn’t even sure if I should add this because really I think it’s more of a personal thing than anything. But I failed to come up with another option, so... gotta take what I can get.

As good as this volume was, it was a VERY emotionally draining one. It was probably the only time I was kind of happy when it was over because ie meant a chance to breathe until V8. There’s the whole political plot that hit way too close for comfort, Tyrian’s murder spree and Penny’s framing, Ironwood’s downfall, everything from the halfway point of Chapter 11 to the end. Heck eve the first two chapters, and even bits of 3 and 4, were super tense and on edge. We had plenty of light-hearted and fun moments in the beginning. But by Chapter 6, that came to an end (or I didn’t find funny, like JNR’s antics in Chapter 8, sorry guys) and it was V3 again, but somehow even more on-edge.

Like I said, this isn’t really a dislike and is on here because I couldn’t think up anything else. As I said, the writing was very strong and on-point. I was nervous, but I’m pretty sure that’s because the writers wanted the audience nervous. They wanted us to feel the tension and fear. hey wanted us to be as conflicted about everything as the characters that we were watching. It was effective too. But it did leave me relieved that it was all over. I didn’t watch V7 in full again until recently when I got my Blu-Ray copy to put into perspective how drained I had been. I was fine upon rewatch, but yeah... way to rise up my stress levels CRWBY!

#3. The Ren/Nora Conflict

This is related to the Number 5 section. I think we can all agree that Ren and Nora tend to get the short end of the stick compared to Jaune and the rest of the main cast. V4 was an improvement, but 5 and 6 returned them to minor supporting roles and even V4 did more for Ren than Nora imo, who to this day is imo the least developed of the main cast. But clearly they wanted to start changing that, and given Jaune more or less got closure last volume it seemed like an ideal time to give the two development, especially where their relationship is concerned.

While Nora was overall fine, Ren... not so much? They do a god job setting up the two’s conflict, albeit the cliché ‘girl compliments boy, boy ignores her as they’re in the middle of something else’ joke in Chapter 3 was dumb. But Chapter 6 made it clear that there was far more going on. Nora is pushing to help Mantle and in the following chapter we have her snap at Ironwood for forcing so much sacrifice on it, but not on Atlas itself. Ren however is closed off (more tha usual), focus more or less solely on the task, is clealry afraid of their uncertain battle against Salem, and even seems to side with Ironwood in Chapter 7. It’s the first major conflict between the two with Nora just trying to get Ren to talk to her. She even finally kisses him... and we all know what happens after that.

The main issue here is two things. One, we NEVER get any clarity on why Ren is acting so cold to Nora, the one person he was always open around (well... for him anyways). I mean I have a good idea why and I’m 99% sure that V8 is going to go into it, but without any clarity it just comes off as him being unfair to Nora who is just concerned for him. The other issue is there is no closure to 9it. We have the final chapter where Ren tries to fight Neo, but as she’s disguised as Nora it goes badly. The poor boy is tearful, snaps at Nora when she tries to calm him down, and it ends in the boy looking like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown. It’s heart-wrenching, but still ultimately leaves the conflict unresolved. Plus we had a pretty large gap between the Renora Kiss (Chapter 6) and that moment (Chapter 13) with some brief moments sprinkled in. Otherwise, Ren acted as we’d expect even with the goofy plan in Chapter 8 where he seemed unusually chill considering. So it just kinda feels like for a while they... forgot about it.

This is right in the middle because as I said, I expect Volume 8 to go more into this. They’ve outright said that if there was something we were confused by or felt didn’t go anywhere, Volume 8 was going to address. This was set-up, and it leaves me anxious to see how things will go with these two especially going off the brief lines we heard in the trailer. But it still sucked that we got no closure and didn’t go further into why Ren is acting like he is. I know I was unsure of how to feel when it was all over. But I guess we’ll see the final result soon enough.

#2. The Truth Revelations

If you were reading my Volume 7 reviews, you know that I REALLY did not like how Chapters 9 and 10 were done. Why? Because of the truth reveals. Now I now know why t was handled like it was, which actually saved it from being out at Number 1 on the list. But does that change me opinion of it? Nope.

First, I want to talk about how it more or less began. That being Blake and Yang revealing the Amity Project to Robyn in Chapter 7. While I DO like them taking matters into their own hands instead of being complacent, I STILL have major issues on how they didn’t talk to Ruby and Weiss about it. I’ve heard the arguments about it, but imo when we have Yang having major hang ups with lies and half-truths (it’s why she was enraged at Oz), her and Blake seeming to pull the same thing... doesn’t look good. There is zero on-screen indication that they let the other sin about it later, which had they done so then the group could have planned proper steps in helping the two sides which may have caused Ironwood to not jump off the slippery slope as badly. Will V8 mention this? IDK, but it does bother me and I would like it addressed especially concerning the themes of trust.

Then we get to Chapters 9 and 10, where my issues go into effect. Robyn drops the hostility and reveals her knowledge of the project, but wants to try and work with Ironwood. The heroes reveal everything to Ironwood and while understandably shocked, he otherwise takes Salem being unkillable well. Then the two leaders reveal this to Mantle, using Robyn’s Semblance to prove it, and... that makes the citizens okay. Yeah... even knowing what happens later I still have issues with this. Because even with that knowledge, there was NO GOOD REASON fo AY of this to go well.

Robyn may know why Ironwood was depleting Mantle resources, but it doesn’t change that he caused a LOT of damage to Mantle due to it. Ironwood, despite his expected reaction coming later, still took the Salem news far too well especially considering how on-edge of her he’d been at that point. The citizens of Mantle know about Salem, but not why ironwood was depleting resources. Plus it doesn’t change that he was a borderline tyrant towards them and he didn’t try explaining that part to them. The fact that THAT calmed them down so easily, even with Robyn’s presence, just came off as... too easy.

Which it was. All of this was an elaborate psyche out. We think that things are finally going well... then Chapter 11 happens, and it goes downhill from there. Can’t lie, they got me. Chapter 11 was a HUGE gut-punch for that reason. As such, I decided to put this at Number Two. But it’s only because of the psyche out. It was still done to make the shock effective and while it worked, it doesn’t change that it felt like things got downplayed far more than they should have. Still, it saved this form taking the top slot. So what DID make it? Well...

#1. Willow Guilting Weiss

For a character that only got one major appearance, Willow left one Hell of an impact. All we knew about her prior was an off-handed remark by Whitley in V4 that implied that she was an unhappy drunk. Here? We see exactly what Jaques has done to this poor woman. She’s a drunk, unhappy, and her expression just screams exhaustion and broken. She knows that she did nothing for her children once she broke, something Weiss makes very clear, but she does make some amends by giving Weiss her Scroll and the evidence needed to expose Jaques and Watts, She’s even relieved when We3iss confirms that she’s never returning for good. It’s a very powerful scene that in minutes makes Willow one of the saddest, sympathetic characters in the show.

I do have one huge problem, however. That’s when she leaves. She has one request for Weiss, and that’s for her to not forget about Whitley. While it’s been becoming more and more clear that Whitley is a scared kid who has been just as abused by Jaques as his sisters, he WAS still a cocky jerk to Weiss. He was never nice to her, and when he was it was for his own benefit. He had zero issue rubbing into Weiss her misfortune in V4 after the concert and how he’s the new heir. Of course Weiss wouldn’t like him and be justified in believing that he didn’t like her. When she points that out, this is Willow’s line:

Of course not. You left him here... with us.

Yeah, this really pissed me off and I think is a problem on the writer’s end. They want to have Weiss realize, like the audience is, that Whitley is like he is because unlike her and Winter, he can’t escape, has none of the abilities that they do, and is thus still a prisoner and under his father’s control.. He succumbed to it instead of fight or get away because that was all that he could do, and hating his sisters kept him in his father’s favor. It’s all very understandable and yes, having Weiss realize this and make an effort to try and help Whitley would show how much she’s changed and allow the Schnee Family to all break free form Jaques once and for all.

But the way the line is worded make it feel like Willow, and in turn the narrative, is gui9lting Weiss into not realizing this and not helping Whitley prior. Umm... no. Hell no. Weiss was under zero obligation to help her brother, who at the time portrayed himself as an egotistical snake to her. He rubbed his success in her face. he rubbed getting the title in her face. He was even trying to do so again in the very same chapter Willow was introduced. Weiss HAD to help herself. And unlike her, who as far as we know never hated Winter and the two always treated each other well, as far as we can tell Whitley never had that relationship with them and we don’t know if he ever tried. Jaques made sure that Whitley and his sisters would be divided, and Weiss shouldn’t feel guilty at all for not seeing this.

I get why some may get after Weiss and what Willow was trying to hint to her. We know that Whitley is a victim. We know that because he had no one, he became the way he is. He still has hope, but Weiss is the only one in any position to get him the help that he needs. I expect V8 to go into this, especially since Weis sis why Jaques is now in prison and took away the only figure that Whitley had (a HORIRBLE one, but still the only). However Weiss did what she could in her position, and doesn’t have the advantage of NOT being in the audience to everything. Do I expect her to realize all of this and try to get Whitley to as well? Yes, and it’ll be her character coming full-circle as well. But did she deserve to be guilted? Hell No. Don’t think it was intentional, but it still rubbed me the wrong way and I still don’t like that bit. Thus, it is the moment I dislike most in RWBY Volume 7.

Okay, that’s it for now. Tomorrow, I’ll post my Top 5 Likes. Which trust me, I got plenty of ‘em~! See you all then~!

#rwby #rwby reviews #rwby musings #callie reviews #top likes/dislikes

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traincat · 5 years

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I wanna ask. If you could re-write Spider-Man: Life Story, what would you do?

I was waiting on talking about Life Story until after it was finished, because there was some slim hope maybe everything was going to turn around, but we’ve got, what, one issue to go, and so I’m just going to come out and say it: I don’t think Spider-Man: Life Story is a good comic. I think it has a very interesting premise – following Spider-Man decade by decade and reimagining the events if time progressed in comics like it does in real life – but its execution totally fails that.

I have three main problems with Spider-Man: Life Story, so I guess my answer to the question is, I would do all of these things completely differently. The first is related to the premise and the execution of the idea. It’s a very intriguing premise, but looking at it practically, it’s also a really hard one to pull off. There are over 800 issues of Amazing Spider-Man, 300 of Spectacular Spider-Man, there’s Web of Spider-Man, Spider-Man Unlimited, Peter Parker: Spider-Man, Sensational Spider-Man, etc. The Marvel wiki lists his appearances total at over 4,000 issues, and while those aren’t all Spider-Man comics or stories that are relevant to his life in the greater picture, that’s a lot of comics to compress. Coming into it, I was hoping for something a little more akin to Marvels, which focused strongly on one or two major events in the Marvel universe per issue, albeit with more of a Spider-Man focus.

That’s not what Spider-Man: Life Story is.

Let me be very clear that Zdarsky clearly knows his Spider-Man canon and history very, very well. I’d actually like to posit that’s part of the problem: Life Story’s so all over the place, throwing around so many different references to different stories, that I cannot imagine it’s an engaging or coherent read for novice Spider-Man readers, and as a more experienced Spider-Man reader, I just find the way it uses canon both frustrating and boring. It takes stories like Kraven’s Last Hunt, the Clone Saga, and the first Morlun story and remixes them in ways that provide nothing new or interesting and that, because of the compressed nature of the story telling, lack any of the emotional depth of the original. Let’s take, for example, the death of Harry Osborn. Now the original event in Spectacular Spider-Man #200 is one of my favorite comics ever. I think it’s a totally perfect issue – but it’s also the denouement of a lot of similarly great comics, like The Child Within. When Harry saves Peter (and it’s very notable that Harry in the original doesn’t intend to outlive killing Peter), it’s this perfect redemption moment in part because we’ve seen Harry struggle with his love for Peter and the life he’s carved out for himself against his father’s toxic influence, his childhood abuse, and his own mental health issues. It’s good because it’s earned.

In Life Story, Harry also dies in the act of saving Peter, ending up impaled on one of Doc Ock’s arms in a battle between Doc Ock, Peter, and Ben Reilly in issue #4. The problem with this being that we hadn’t seen Harry since issue #2, which doesn’t seem like a huge gap – until you realize that each issue is a decade, so that’s at least 10 years of a Harry and Peter relationship we have no context for. We haven’t seen them interact. We have no idea about this legendary friendship. The only proof it even exists is that Harry leaps in front of Peter to take the blow. As Harry dies, his last words are to Peter, saying “you’re my best…” and trailing off. It’s an obvious callback, if you know Spectacular Spider-Man #200, where Harry dies calling Peter his best friend. Except we have no proof of that here; we don’t see Harry and Peter being best friends. For all we know, Harry was trying to call Peter his best investor. Life Story depends so heavily on the already existing canon to fill in the emotional impact its readers are supposed to feel that it doesn’t bother to take the time to establish it itself, which, I think, is ultimately more important than throwing as many references to various Spider-Man plots at the wall at once and seeing what sticks. If I have to depend on the original comics to feel anything for Life Story, why are we even bothering publishing Life Story?

Similarly, in issue #5, which attempts to remix the first Morlun story along with Life Story’s remix of Civil War Take 2: Not In Vietnam This Time, and the death of Ben Reilly, but, you know, boring, when Ben’s death is reported on the news, Peter exclaims that it’s just like Ezekiel warned him!

Ezekiel being a character who never actually appears in this book. (I’m gonna hit on some other things in this exchange in my second and third points, because this whole section really illustrates every single problem I have with Life Story in one go.) So like, I get the whole story here, because I’ve read (and adore) the first Morlun story – which is, IMHO, a million times a better read – but what does this even look like if you haven’t? A clumsy exposition dump at best, I assume, or something that would leave you flipping back previously trying to see if you missed something. The book doesn’t even offer you an old style little citation box in the corner of the panel, telling you what issues you could find the original story in, something that I think would’ve been more than helpful and actually a fun and interesting little addition in a book that insists on being this relentlessly canon heavy without expounding or providing context on a good 50% of it. It also alters bits of canon that I feel ruin the nuance of the original, like when it depicts its version of Flash Thompson as enlisting – while 616 Flash does serve in Vietnam, in the original comics he is drafted, he does not enlist, and after the fact is clearly conflicted and deeply regretful about that service. If you’re setting your comic in the original time period, there’s no reason to alter Flash’s story like that.

The second problem I have is that Spider-Man: Life Story has a big problem in how it depicts women. With the possible exception of Peter’s daughter, depending on how the last issue goes, women in Life Story have two purposes: to sleep with Peter, to die, or both. Aunt May is only there to get dementia and die. Gwen similarly is there to be a plot device in its Clone Saga remix: the “real Gwen” dies, and Clone Gwen, apparently happily married to Original Peter as far as her own recollections, goes off without any on page internal struggle on her part with Ben Reilly upon the discovery that she’s a clone, because clones are meant to be with clones, I guess. I would think it would be difficult to give Gwen less agency in a new version of the story where an older man who is obsessed with her clones her in order to possess her, but somehow Life Story manages it. She’s never seen on page again. As she goes off, in comes Mary Jane to comfort Peter in a far more hollow version of ASM #122′s door scene, to bear his children, to take care of his ailing aunt, to leave him only to take him back, because of course she does, she’s a good woman, to be terrorized by Peter and then beg and plead with Morlun for her children’s lives. Mary Jane goes from her complicated, nuanced character in 616 to a beat down caricature, watching paralyzed with fear in front of the television as Peter fights. Additionally, she becomes her original self’s biggest fear: a battered wife.

Which brings me into our third problem: Peter himself. It’s hard for me to tell whether the intention is to depict Peter as an abusive husband and father, however, by issue five, it’s hard to deny that’s what he is. Look at the above bottom right panel: Peter’s fist is clenched, his wife and children cowering in his shadow. I won’t lie: it’s a deeply uncomfortable page. Part of the reason I wish Life Story was more tightly written was so I could be sure it meant to do the things it is doing with Peter: depicting him as a man who is simultaneously deeply damaged and deeply unlikable. There’s no two ways around this: in Life Story, Peter repeatedly abuses Mary Jane. Not only is there the threat of physical abuse in issue #5, but there’s the fact that he made her take care of his ailing aunt long past the point May should have been kept at home, refusing to put her in a care facility. Let me be very clear as someone who has cared for elderly relatives for dementia: it is not caring to keep a relative with dementia at home past a certain point, especially when, as Peter does in Life Story, you have more than enough money to put them in a good care facility. It is abusive behavior both to May and Mary Jane, predicated solely on Peter’s selfish wishes and egotistical behavior, and it goes against 616 Peter’s characterization. 616 Peter did, at a point in time, put May in a care facility, because it was what she needed at the time, and while he stressed about paying the bills, he still did it, because it was the right thing to do and because he loves her. During the saga of his parents’ “return” (they were robots – I note Life Story chose not to tackle this particular story), when Peter fears May has Alzheimer’s, he tries to make plans about what to do if that does turn out to be the case. He does not force Mary Jane to take care of her. He’s not abusive. Life Story’s Peter is. And worse yet, Mary Jane is expected by the narrative to take him back after that.

To be totally fair, I think Life Story tries to make Peter unlikable on purpose, to show that you can’t do what Peter does over a period of five decades and not have it take it a toll. The problem is there’s a huge gap between a hardened man or even an unlikable man and an abusive one, and Life Story doesn’t seem to understand that. If you look at Spider-Man canon as a bigger picture, there’s a pretty clear pattern present of men who have great power and abuse it among his villains: Norman Osborn, Otto Octavius. Curt Connors and the Lizard are a pretty clear domestic abuse narrative; Martha and Billy Connors live in fear of the reemergence of this violent “other” side that exists in Curt and could manifest itself at any time and upend their lives. What sets Peter apart from his villains is specifically that he is not an abusive man.

Life Story also fails to understand the purpose of Parker Industries – though to be fair I think Dan Slott lost this towards the end, too – as something that does not organically coexist not with Peter Parker, but specifically with Spider-Man. Slott’s Superior Spider-Man is not actually the first appearance of Parker Industries. It first comes up in the prelude to Peter selling his marriage to Mephisto during One More Day, when he’s shown two alternate paths he might have gone down if he hadn’t been bit by the spider. In the life where ordinary Peter Parker forms Parker Industries, he’s rich and respected, but his emotional life is hollow and empty:

(Sensational Spider-Man #41) In the second appearance of Parker Industries, it is founded by Otto Octavius in Peter’s name in a bid to be a “better” version of Peter, ie, a more successful one, the critical message here being that Otto doesn’t understand Spider-Man’s true value as an unselfish protector of the people. To have Peter found Parker Industries of his own free will and volition, with no mitigating circumstances, fundamentally misunderstands the point of Peter as a protector of the people and why his socioeconomic status is important: Peter is not rich in the larger web because he stands for the ordinary people against the corrupt corporate landscape, just like Norman exists as his “biggest” villain because he is the symbol and the representation of that corruption. Life Story fails to understand that within its narrative, and so it fails to understand Peter Parker, especially when it tries to set him up in opposition to either Reed Richards or Tony Stark – both of whom I also find written very poorly.

I admit I was unimpressed with Zdarsky’s Peter in Peter Parker, The Spectacular Spider-Man because I found his dialogue too rambly and light; I felt like he couldn’t commit to writing a serious Peter; in Life Story he’s writing a very serious Peter, but in a way I feel fundamentally betrays and insults the core of the character. If he writes another Spider-Man series, I hope he’s able to find a middle ground. I will say the covers he did for the book are incredible, though. I’d love to have them as posters.

Basically, if I were redoing Spider-Man: Life Story, I’d focus on these three main points: streamline the canon and cut extraneous references, give the women of the book some actual agency within it, and make sure Peter is not depicted as a domestic abuser. Which, now that I’ve written that out, seems a little bit like scraping the bottom of the barrel in terms of things to hope for in a Spider-Man series. There’s one issue to go and while I hope the book goes out on a good note, at this point there’s really no way it can recover from the grim landscape the previous five issues have set.

#peter parker #mary jane watson #marvel comics #spiderman #*replies #traincat talks comics #long post/#abuse mention//

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puawarriors-production · 4 years

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Week 17 – Alex – I Told You I’d See You Later

My previous post was a little anti-climactic if you ask me, and I didn’t get to recap what I did so here we gooo.

----------------------FIRST, MAJOR DISCLAIMER---------------

As you can see, this post is pretty dang long, so I’m just gonna put evaluation stuff for the class here first, and if you feel like reading on afterward that’s cool, but it’s just personal reflections and final send-off stuff.

So, shockingly, I was one of the main contributors to the rough animation which you can see in the animatic, and can track the progress of throughout this blog’s history. I finished 15 roughed shots in total. I also have 8 shots concurrently blocked (in other words, partial progress,) and 2 shots unstarted. I also made the 3D environment models used for reference in making the backgrounds, as well as handling the editing side (video composition, timing, and sound edits) for the animatic up to this point.

Next, I worked closely with Sophia and our sound mixer Tim to get the voice actresses recorded, their clips edited, and finally integrated into the film. And also, while this hasn’t made it into the animatic yet, I have been creating some original sound design elements as well. Here’s a sample of some:

youtube

I’m focusing mostly on the characters’ Pua powers and transformations right now, and some sludge sounds. And in hand with that, I also did the voice clips/sound effects for the Sludge Monster. Aaand that’s pretty much it from me this semester! Super excited to keep up the work in the weeks to come! If you’re not sticking till the end of the post, then thanks for an awesome class, and awesome semester!

------------------ The Feels Side of the Post -----------------

The Pua Warriors Experience

When I first heard about Pua Warriors, I thought the idea sounded awesome: Magical girls set in Hawai'i using flower powers and sparkles to save the day? Yeah I’m down for that. It felt… familiar to me, I suppose. But at the time I still knew relatively little about the characters, the story, and only had a vague idea of their designs.

As time went on and the Capstone application deadline was approaching, I felt like I was a bit stuck, with the exhaustion of working on Midnight Showing holding me on one side, and having only a vague outline of a plot for my own film idea on the other. And with no crew to speak of, the decision not to make a Capstone of my own was … difficult… one of the most difficult in my time at ACM. Cause in my mind (at the time at least,) not making “your own” Capstone project felt like a failure somehow. But this whole Pua Warriors thing was sounding pretty nice, and I already knew everyone working on it. So I decided life’s better together, and far be it from me to not work on a project of some kind. So I hopped on-board for a little trip into the unknown. And well, here we are, still in the unknown. But that doesn’t mean we’re lost. Not yet.

I have to say, Pua Warriors has grown on me. At a certain point it stopped feeling like a student film, and started feeling more like a potential series: a world with its own storyline, and indeed one that’s worth telling – yes, I would make a distinction between the two. Working on the project has just been the sweetest, most wonderful, enlightening, mild existential crisis inducing, and bizarrely friendly thing I’ve had the privilege of working on, all at once. It didn’t just change how I approach character design, animation, or working on a team – I feel it changed me for the better as a person, and at times I feel almost unworthy to be on this project.

One thing I’ll never forget is the time we spent hanging out in the Keller lab, going to group meetings, and recording at MELE. What silly fun times those were. I admit, not being able to hang out with my friends after the virus shut the world down has truly been one of the most difficult parts of my whole “college era” of my life experience. To feel like something great was forming, only to be ripped away by something so crazy and completely over-the-top as this virus – words just can’t capture the feeling of melancholy. But even when we’re spread hundreds or thousands of miles apart, at times I can still feel near, even if it is only through a screen. And personally, I don’t want that to change just because the semester’s ending. That’s why, in a way, I’m sort of glad we have time to work on into the summer.

Reflections on Life

Some lessons this semester taught me: First is on fitting in. It’s never blending in for the sake of blending in, nor standing out for the sake of standing out. It’s being comfortably unique in your own talents and skills, strengths and weaknesses, styles and tastes - while being happy to share those things with others. Indeed, it’s not about being “good enough” to belong, but rather belonging, in order that may do good for others. Second is on wanting to help. For a long time I remained kind of a loner in ACM, sitting in “my” corner with “my” ideas. It wasn’t until last semester and especially during this semester I realized just how powerful, or perhaps rather how much more powerful the drive to help and serve others can be. That’s true not just for creative endeavors, but all areas of life. The Third lesson: doing things for the right reasons. We do things for a lot of different reasons, and often times we aren’t cognizant of why we act or feel the way we do. Having an understanding of who you truly are and what you really want is critical in exercising self-control, and you may come to realize your desires aren’t always what you think they are. And the Fourth lesson is on being assertive. We all want and feel things, and one of the greatest feelings is being in control. You may doubt yourself when you don’t know where your feelings and desires come from. You may think your mind is playing tricks on you. But the truth is, we’ll never go places in life if we don’t speak up and acknowledge our ideas. We may not always come to the right conclusions, but that doesn’t mean we’re wrong for trying. So try, try, and try again. It’s okay to fail, as long as you pick up something with you as you get up. Take risks, and understand that doubt is often our greatest enemy, so fight it!

So now, at the end, I don’t really know what I feel: I don’t know if this is sadness or happiness? Courage or fear? Maybe it’s none of those things, but something I haven’t quite felt before. Until recently, I didn’t realize there’s an emotion that can make you feel so weak, yet feel strong at the same time. One thing’s for sure, I’m going to miss the project, the crew, and all of Hawai'i. To us, the future is a blank slate: nothing is written on it, yet it holds an infinite number of possibilities.

Honoring my Maker

Now before I wrap up, I have a specific topic I’d like to address.

While I usually avoid discussing my religious life openly in a scholastic context, I will say here and now that God has been my greatest help throughout these past couple years. For the longest time, even before coming to Hawai'i, I struggled with feelings of not fitting in, of low self-esteem, and of self-doubt. There were a lot of recurring battles at my home growing up, and many of the wounds followed me into adulthood. And if nothing else, this semester has brought many of those to the forefront.

As a child back in Washington, I would often just go with the flow of my friends at the time, because it was easier, and allowed me to avoid conflict. Yet I would be lead into instances where I would not speak up or act, even though I felt what we were doing, thinking, or saying was wrong. My family wasn’t particularly religious, or at least they certainly didn’t act like it. And for a while I think I didn’t believe in God. Maybe there was some higher power... maybe, perhaps, but not God. Yet still I felt a crushing weight on my conscience, for both the things I had done, and the things I had failed to do. So I watched TV shows and movies to help me feel safe, to distract myself, and indeed to feel as if I had more power than I actually did.

There came a time in middle school when a big storm came through my life, and when I was living in fear, I turned to God, and He helped me through it. And again in high school, God helped me. And in college, many times more. Through it all, God answered my prayers, and showed me there is a better way. And I came to understand that He gave me a way to life through His Son, long before I was even born. And because of that, I could find comfort and rest by trusting in Him through the afflictions I faced. So the way I see it, God has lead my life in a way neither I, nor any human being could. I have found that He has a purpose for all things, and truly that nothing comes by accident. I may not say it aloud, but I observe it every day in the places He sets me in, and the people with whom He places me. Yes, even in the midst of this virus. So while family and friends may not always be there to support me, and while institutions may crumble and fall, and while I may move away and feel isolated from all I’ve known, my God was, is, and always will be with me. There is nothing more empowering or reassuring than that. And without coming off too preachy, my hope is that people might perhaps look at that reflected in my life - to see the work God has done, and to consider their own relationship with Him.

Roll Call

Next, I have a few shout-outs I’d like to mention.

First, to my wonderful film Director Sophia: What can I say? This project has been simply amazing to work on with you. I think back to the moment I first overheard you talking about Pua Warriors. You were so thrilled to do it, and that’s when I realized I might want to jump onboard as well. Since then, the only adjective that comes to mind describing this experience is “vibrant.” I know there have been a lot of ups and downs, but that’s part of what makes the experience worth remembering. And there may very well be more hills and valleys to go through, but I actually look forward to them every day with you, as we continue to make this film happen. You shine like a star with a brilliant, positive energy I’ve never seen before. And I think you have a much greater potential than perhaps even you yourself realize. Of course, everyone has room to grow, but that doesn’t reflect poorly on you at all. It’s the fact that you’ve been so supportive of your team, and that you didn’t give up on your vision, and indeed, you’ve made massive efforts to grow this semester – that’s what makes you a good director in my eyes. And to be honest, I wouldn’t have anybody else direct the film – certainly at least not this “episode” anyway. It’s been a lasting experience, and I hope you’ll take what you’ve learned from it with you. You have a bright future ahead of you Sophia – all you need to do is reach out to it!

Next, to the Art Director and my good friend Gavin, wow what a ride this has been. Your artistic vision, your stamina, and your work ethic are so very remarkable. It’s been awesome these last few years getting to know you and work with you through all the late nights and long class periods. And especially through Midnight Showing and Pua Warriors. You basically set the standard that I and most other animation students aspire to, and you have such a unique way of looking at things too. Even when you’re feeling drained from all the work, your passion clearly shows, and you know how to communicate both very clearly, AND very, uh, sassily, which makes hanging around you hilarious. You’re also one of the only people on Earth that could get me to watch Clone Wars, and I don’t regret it. You give exceptional feedback in each critique, and though it can be tough to incorporate sometimes, you make listening to you a worthwhile endeavor. ACM simply would not be what it is without you, and I know you have many great things you’ll do with your skills moving forward.

To our excellent Animation Supervisor Chandelle, this semester’s been a tough one, but even in the darkest times, the sun still rises! You’ve always been an awesome animator, an incredibly hard worker, and an exceptionally friendly and helpful member of the group. And what’s more, you never sought to put the spotlight on yourself for it. You do things simply because you care, and you do them with such a level of discipline and professionalism that few in the ACM department could match it. I’m sure I speak for the whole group when I say, we care about you so much, and we’re just thankful you’ve been with us on the project. Never sell yourself short Chandelle! You’ve conquered some major obstacles in the past, and I know you have it in you to overcome this one as well.The light will shine again someday, so hang in there, and thanks for all the help you’ve given!

To my fellow animation friend Jared, man, have I got a lot of respect for you. You really know what it’s like to get down and dirty for the team, or feel stuck in a rut in the middle of a project. This last year has probably tested you the most, and yet you never fell apart. Sure, cracks may have formed at times, but you held together and pulled on through to the end. That proves you’ve got guts, and a great capacity for patience and accommodation especially in times of crisis. And that’s exactly what we need - that kind of boldness and passion, to be able to outlast our worries, especially when there are so many unknowns. I remember back to Midnight Showing; boy, that felt like a big time of unknowns too. We had no idea what was coming. And yet you outmatched it, and sure enough, things worked out in the end. And because you’ve been so humble and willing to improve yourself, I’ve seen you get so much better over these last few years, and frankly, it’s astonishing! You’re a great friend, and a hard worker Jared. Keep it up! You’ve got this!

I’d also like mention my fellow animation friend Kalilinoe! Even though we’re not in the same team this semester, you’re still an awesome and inspiring animator to have in class! Working together on Midnight Showing last semester was a lot of work, but also so much fun! And I love your style of animation using rotoscoping. And I gotta say, the animation in Pua Ka Uahi looks sooo smooth and beautiful. Watching your progress on the film this semester has been super inspiring, and definitely keeps the other teams on their toes! I can’t wait to see the finished film!

I’ll also make a brief mention of Jayme and Bobby from our 320/420 classes! You guys rock, and made the year all the better! I hope we’ll get to hang out again sometime!

PLUS, A big thanks to the whole Capstone class! Stay creative, and best wishes to you all!

And finally, one last big shout-out to Lisette for making all of this possible! You’ve been an awesome teacher not just for this course, but for the last few years in general! You always bring such wisdom and expert film knowledge to us younglings. And you’re so willing to make yourself available to your students; always helpful and encouraging to everyone, and even more so now during this time. That’s just the kind of support we need! I’ll be missing your classes greatly! Thanks so much for all your care and help!

A New Chapter Begins

Well, that pretty much wraps up my blog (for the school-production time anyway) of Pua Warriors. I’d like to once again thank each and every one of you for making the ACM experience so incredible. I think I like posting, so I’ll probably try to keep up with the blogs for the future, or at least make an update every once in a while. Thanks for reading through this epic conclusion of a post.

Until next time my friends! This is Alex(is) Nelson, Ganitine, the Undercover Animator, uncovered! See you next time!

#Pua Warriors #This is the end #Thank You #Capstone #coffeepower #sentimental #The Pakala Kids #Pua Ka Uahi #See you later #Pua Laulima

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revengeisalwaysanoption · 5 years

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[Skam Italia] Ficlet: Flawed 2/2

And that’s it :D Again, it’s an unbetaed&unedited VERY LITTLE story I am writing to cope… I hope you will like it as well :) ! Edited to add: I’d like to dedicate this to Ibisco and @annefraid The first, with her wonderful story (Resilience: go and read it if you understand Italian, it’s so good HERE ) I am a sucker for the boy squad taking care of Nico, so… Another reminder that THEY - both Nico AND Marti - are not alone was due ;) ! And Anne… wow, what an insight on Marti’s deep rooted insecurities in “try and evolve”! I mention them here but it’s all thanks to amazing fic for making me realize how Marti might see Niccolò!

******

Martino knows he screwed up. He isn’t that much of a ‘disaster gay’ – no matter how often Filippo (and his own friends, those jerks!!) likes to address him as such, to rile his Rose up – not to notice the way Nico’s mood plummeted as soon as he sat down at the table this morning. Regretting having to deal with how grumpy Martino can be, before he had any caffeine in him, already? That’s understandable… But quite unlikely. They aren’t really living together, yet, but they are past those petty fights. Who cared if someone seemed always to be too tired to do the dishes or to mop the floor? They never even discussed such trivial things, to be honest: taking care of Nico, making sure he lives in a spotless and tidy environment, is not a chore and Marti really doesn’t mind. Besides, they have a clashing definitions of order and totally different perceptions of how dirty the flat can get before it has to be cleaned. They easily met halfway, agreeing to let Niccolò do things his way and at his own pace, without having to talk about it.

So… if it wasn’t about Martino’s charming decaffeinated personality… What made him run for the hills? Was it something he said? It must be. Fuck. Why does his brain-to-mouth filter always fail him when he needs it the most? And yeah, there is a niggling voice in his head going like ‘You shouldn’t have to overthink every word you say, in fear you’re gonna hurt Nico or something. You should be free to be yourself, including who you are at your worst.’ but he’s not listening to that. What’s wrong with refusing to settle for the person he is now, and striving to become a gentler and more considerate one in the future? What’s so bad about Niccolò inspiring him to give it a try, at least? Nothing; you can’t change his mind. Moreover, he has to make up for the complete lack of any talent whatsoever… Like, okay, compared to Nico - who excels at everything he does, and it’s a lot- he can be dull and boring but at least he’s great at owning up to his mistakes - the whole ton of them - and learn. And it’s more that can be said for so many people out there, including dad, so… Lesson of the day: do not speak until you had your coffee, Martino, and a kiss from Niccolò so that you don’t forget how lucky you are to have this - HIM - to come home to. That no matter how awful you day is going to be - and no, you can’t really know beforehand, so stop being so damn negative and over dramatic… - there are always going those moments with Niccolò that will brighten it.

Okay? Okay. Now, let’s get back to the matter at hand. After the unfortunate comparison of an obsessive-compulsive disorder to a penchant for loving neatly written notes, and finding out that Martino still his that awful word – ‘psychopath’ – in his vocabulary… It wouldn’t be too far for Niccolò to persuade himself that he was belittling his efforts (as well as his mother’s) to get out of bed in the morning, on his darkest days. That’s not what he meant, of course.

’Well, you know none of your friends meant it when they said they wanted somebody to kill them, or that they were going to jump off a bridge because of school. They don’t do that anymore, because they know it reminds you of the bad place Nico’s mind can go sometimes… but some other classmates still throw those words around like it’s nothing, like they are really clinically depressed because their shitty most beloved show got cancelled or their favorite character died.’

That’s it: that’s exactly the point. He knows and it still hurts. It still makes him want to stand up and scream ‘SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS! YOU KNOW NOTHING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT!’ at the top of his lungs. He can’t blame Nico for being so disappointed with him that he had to leave…

Well, all this mulling and self-deprecation won’t fix anything. He’d better think how to show him that even though he quite an asshole, he never acts out of maliciousness. He might have hit where it hurt out of anger, in the past, to drive people away… He wouldn’t do it, now. Not even as a last resort. He can only hope it will be enough, for Nico.

So… What should he do next? Should he run after him? Leave him some space? Should he really let Niccolò believe that he forgot what tomorrow means for them – for Martino himself - not to spoil the surprise? He had even persuaded Sana to let him be the main speaker, for once… He had a Spotify playlist ready to play, to let Niccolò know what he cannot say with words and sometimes fails to show with his actions…

He… He has no idea, like, his brain is fuzzy static and he’s pretty sure he will start hyperventilating soon… He needs help. Yep. If there’s one thing he got out of those hell months back in 2018 is that he doesn’t have to deal with any kind of crisis alone. Luca reaches out to them when he can’t find the right outfit for his dates with Silvia, when he doesn’t know if it really would be wise to eat that last piece of sushi even though he’s about to puke… And they should be aware that Niccolò might need them as well, even though he doesn’t dare to ask.

“Marti. First thing you gotta do is calm down…” Giovanni writes in the chat, as soon as he listens to his frantic voice message. “Don’t die on us, man. Oxygen is your friend. Even if it’s being a bitch now, being so heavy and shit…” Elia adds, making him smile. “Deep breaths. In. Out. Picture yourself lying down in a field… Feel the grass. Be the grass.” Luca joins in, earning rolling-eyes emojis and thumbs down.

“Is this something you heard from Silvietta, Lu?” “Actually from our yoga teacher…” “Well, stop it because it’s making me long for some weed and we have to stay lucid and sharp here for Marti and Nico.” Giovanni says in the chat, before calling Martino. “Listen. I’ll be quick: show up at school, because we can’t do much over the phone. I know you probably want to send out a search party for Niccolò rather that sit behind a desk for so long, but you have to trust that he knows how to take care of himself and that, like any of us, simply needs a couple of hours to cool down. It’s not like you killed someone, come on…”

“Yeah, but… what if he doesn’t forgive me?” He forgave him so many times, ever since that morning in the boys’ restrooms, what if this is his breaking point? “Then it’s his problem for holding you up to impossible standards, man, not yours. Don’t even try to fight me on that. You’re my best friend, Marti, and I won’t allow anyone to talk shit about you. Not even yourself.” “I’m far…” “… from perfect? Who isn’t? And don’t say Niccolò. Nope, I hate to break it to you, but he’s some major flaws too. And so do I, and so do you, Eva, Sofia, and anyone out there. Trust me: I call you out when you’ve got your head so far up your ass that you forgot how sunlight feels like and THIS is not the case. Don’t make me come over and drag you all the way to 5B’s door.” Martino is aware that it’s just an empty threat, that Giovanni would hardly ever pressure him into anything, and yet he sighs and promises he is going to be there for nine o’clock. Perhaps, if he gets out, Niccolò will feel like it’s safe to come back…

To Nico: Leaving for school, now. Hope I’ll get to see you, later.

It takes him the whole ride to school to decide that no surprise is worth having Ni thinking he doesn’t hold dear that 11th of October, that the day he felt an immediate and unprecedented connection to a nameless boy could ever be insignificant.

To Nico: Can’t wait for you to hear what I’ve got in store for tomorrow

As he expected, Nico doesn’t get back to him. It’s fine. He can wait.

*****************************

Alright: he might have overestimated his patience. He doesn’t know how much longer he can take, before he leaves no stone in Rome unturned while looking for Niccolò.

Thankfully, he’s got a plan to stick to. Sana’s. Who will most likely make him regret the day he was born, if he steps out of line. It’s not ideal, as it relies on too many factors – Nico having his phone on, reading his text messages, being in a place where he can listen to Radio Osvaldo – but it’s the best they’ve got.

“Well, thank you, Ivano… Sharing with us how it’s life with a bipolar disorder must have been hard, but I’m sure that many of our listeners found comfort listening to how you got your happy ending with Sax… To some of us things look so bleak we don’t even see the point of anything, but your story goes to show that it does get better, when you start building bridges instead of burning them. And Martino, you must be so proud of our special guest today. A woman who was brave enough to come and talk to all of us about she is dealing with her depression. Unfortunately she had to leave early, but thank Teresa on our behalf. We hoped to have a former student of this school to conclude this special feature on Mental Health Day, as they are dealing with one of the most stigmatized illnesses… Unfortunately they couldn’t join us. If you are listening, however, remember that we’re here for you. All of us.”

“I am. My mom truly is the best. Yeah, I can hear you all groan, but that’s a fact. It took me ages to see it, so maybe you should cut your parents some slack as well. Unless they’re abusive jerks, of course. And I couldn’t be prouder of that person you just mentioned as well. They keep on being strong, kind, and compassionate in a world that constantly tries to tear them down… They- ”

“Martino, if you keep on going like that you might just as well say their name.” Sana warns him, shooting him a reproachful glare. Too bad she can’t stop him. He just realized how he can make Nico understand he treasures every second they spend together. The best and the worst.

“They are who I want to spend my life with: Niccolò Fares, will you marry me?”

“YES!!” The door barges open, he’s swept off the seat and carried to the nearest secluded corner. What the fuck? He’s not complaining, but really: what the fuck has just happened?

*****************

They would later agree that the marriage is not going to happen for another couple of years, that a proper and more romantic proposal is order from them both… and Martino finds out that while he was busy with Sana, ‘contrabbandieri’ and ‘matte’ joined forces to delve into Nico’s past. So that they could call Niccolò’s old friends to the rescue. Together they managed to locate Nico and then Gio – of course it was him: the love wizard - and Michi talked some sense into him.

“So, tell me… What exactly have you got planned?” He sounds a bit hesitant, now that the euphoria of the impromptu proposal has worn off.

“I was thinking about a tutorial on how to grow weed in your closet. Followed by a cooking show hosted by the famous chef Niccolò Fares, a ten step guide to on how to break in a deserted pool, a top five on the most romantic spots in Rome… Can’t quite decide who’s gonna get the first place, the bins had their charm but so did the toilets…”

“… well, it can’t be a fair ranking until you’ve seen my favorite spot. Come on, Marti. Keats and Shelley are waiting for us!”

“Lead the way.”

#martino rametta #niccolò fares #they've got amazing friends #skam italia #my writing

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 5 years

Text

Plots and Pleasing Smiles

@umbralaperture I accepted this “abuse” of my prompt system because it’s a special occasion. I’m only joking of course. Not only did this sound like a challenge, how could I possibly refuse a request for your birthday? I kinda hope this works… Please excuse the shameless self-insert in this one I couldn’t not be there for your special day. x

**The rest of the prompts received for my Thank You Plan will be written and posted starting in August. This is an early reveal of one so I do not miss a birthday.**

ALL THE WARLORDS / Modern / Song #23 / Fluff

#23: Sonne – Rammstien

WARNING: Strong Language

---

Plots and Pleasing Smiles

Work had been hectic and that was putting it mildly. Everyone seemed to want something doing and it all had to have been done yesterday. She sighed at her desk looking again at the clock on the wall taunting her with the reminder of the low passage of time.

She thought back on the past week that had seen the rest of the household acting unusual. Hushed voices, whispered secrets and late-night trysts that she had been left out of. She had naturally received constant reassurance that none of it was anything to worry about but how could she not when all the men in her life seemed intent to keep things from her?

*Sigh*

“You know that is you up to 8 sighs per minute? Gonna have to start charging you on excessive exhaling soon.” A mirthful voice came from next to her and it was only then that she noticed the other woman standing next to her.

“Is it? Damn sorry I guess I’m just a little tired.” A thin smile pulled at the edges of her mouth as she looked up at the teasing blue eyes of her friend.

“No wonder.” How many jobs did you get stuck with today? This has to be enough work for 6 people right here.” Aerion reached out and absently flipped the corners on the document files stacked high on the desktop. Her voice had a joking tone but the wince she failed to hide in her expression told a different story. She’s worried about me.

“Probably but it's ok I can do it.” She straightened in her chair again, a new resolve emerging with her attempt to reassure her friend.

“Just because you can do it Naiya doesn’t mean you should.” Aerion declared whilst swooping in to swipe half a stack of the files.

“Hey!” Naiya made a grab for the stolen workload only to have it effortlessly removed from her reach.

“A job halved is one less job for you to do at the end of the day. I’ve nearly finished mine I can do at least this much.” Aerion smiled knowing her friend was in no fit state to really put up a fight.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“Not since I brought you coffee earlier. Besides you really want to be throwing around dangerous proclamations like who you love when you have a harem at home?” The smile on her face was as vulpine as someone else’s Naiya knew all too well.

“Haha, must you call them that?” Feeling a blush heating up her face Naiya laughed wryly.

“What else would you like me to call them? Anyway, none of that matters as long as you’re all happy and no one is getting hurt.” Aerion shrugged and thankfully dropped her teasing.

“How supportive.”

“Meh. It’s who I am. Oh shit, that’s my phone!” Scuttling back to her desk to grab the call. Naiya let out a bark of laughter when Aerion had to juggle the files in her arm and the receiver to prevent dropping them. Earning her a small pout from her friend as they stuck their tongue out at her whilst talking in her official business voice.

---

The commute home was cursed. The weather that had been forecast as sun all day had turned into a downpour of rain from nowhere, and it naturally just had to wait to do that at the exact moment she was getting off the train for her short walk home. Dropping her bag on the chair in the hallway she peeled her coat off discovering it had done nothing to prevent her from getting soaked.

“Great.” She grimaced and pulled a little at the fabric sticking to her skin.

“Princess you’re home!” The delighted voice didn’t give her a chance to prepare herself for the hug attack. A pair of deceptively strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the smell of peaches tickling her nose.

“That looks like fun. May I join?” He was a little more reserved than Ranmaru but it was clear Mitsunari was no less happy to welcome her home.”

“Sure. Hi Honey.” She freed her arms from the embrace she was already in to hold them out for the second man to come to her. An invitation he happily accepted. She giggled suddenly remembering Ieyasu’s comment about it like being greeted by a couple of puppies.

“We’ve all been waiting for you. You’re soaked!” Ranmaru pulled away from her suddenly realising the state she was in and began giving her a concerned look from the top of her head to her toes.

“Well, it did rain.”

“Come inside quickly I’ll go grab a towel. Ranmaru would you?” Mitsunari slipped away leaving her arms and she shivered at the loss of warmth.

“On it.” Ranmaru stooped down to scoop her up into a princess style carry and began walking as if she weighed no more than a throw pillow.

“I can walk you know?”

“Yes, but this way I get to hug you and get you warm all at once. You not want me to Princess?” He constructed his face into one that looked like a wounded puppy. He knew she couldn’t say anything against those eyes.

“That look should be illegal how do you expect me to say no?”

“Ran, put her down over here.” Kennyo called out from the sofa looking up from a book he had rested on the arm. Depositing her gently next to the calming influence in the house Ranmaru vanished into the kitchen where what sounded like a small army was fighting.

“Now then Angel drink this.” A large hand and honeyed voice supplied a steaming cup of cocoa. She relaxed even more finally feeling like she was officially home and took a sip.

“God that’s sweet.”

“I tried to stop him putting in so much sugar but he insisted it was not sweet enough.” Yuki grumbled his complaint from his position by Sasuke. It looked like the pair were engrossed in watching something on the latter’s laptop. Another project for work, I guess?

“Sweets are good for reviving the soul Yuki.” Shingen’s serious reply earned him an eye roll from the younger man.

“And rotting your teeth.” Hideyoshi gave his own opinion to no one, in particular, making her giggle at the familiar warmth in the room.

“If he had no teeth would he stop with the stomach-turning pillow talk?” Kenshin enquired swirling his glass of wine.

“Come on Kenshin we all said we’d give it a rest for the night.” Yoshimoto shrugged in a non-committal display of preferring not to get involved in anything that could develop into a war in the living room. His reclined pose by the window made him look like a finely sculpted work of art.

“You all did that? What exactly is going on?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, little mouse.” She had no idea where he had sprung from but Mitsuhide gave her nose a small tap with his finger startling her. A soft white towel fell over her head, turning her world dark for a few moments until she put down her empty cup and moved it enough to give a small judging glare to the smirking kitsune.

“Mitsuhide you have all been saying that for a week. I know I was busy with work but if something is going on, I want to know about it.” Naiya pouted, suppressing the sigh she knew was there.

“Fireball.” Nobunaga entered the room handing a large plain box off to Hideyoshi before grabbing a glass of whiskey and taking a seat. What is going on tonight? Hideyoshi vanished into the kitchen, her eyes followed him before tracking back to Nobunaga. “Do you not trust us?” Nobu had that unreadable expression fixed on his face as he looked at her. The same one he used in a boardroom when listening to someone give a report.

“You know I do. I just don’t like being left out the loop.” She busied herself with the towel drying off her hair only to find it plucked from her hands by Hideyoshi who had taken over the task without asking.

“It’s true even at work she has to know everything.” Mitsuhide cast out his playful comment as he watched Hideyoshi take over his usual mothering role.

“Well, how do you expect me to do my job if I didn’t?”

“Fair point.”

“What smells so good anyway?” Naiya tried to turn her head to get a better view of the kitchen. Every time one of the others went in or out the door served as a kind of fan to waft the smell of gastric temptation around. The only issue was from the angle she was in, and the speed with which they were all moving she couldn’t even get a glimpse.

“Dinner. Masa is doing it. It was supposed to be a BBQ but then the heaven’s opened and quashed that plan.” Shingen filled her in with as much detail as he was willing to divulge. Hideyoshi had retreated after smoothing down her hair attempting to stop Nobu from eating whatever contraband he suddenly noticed he had. Mitsuhide was stifling a laugh that probably gave away the fact that he was the source of whatever breach of the “no candy before dinner” rule.

“Are you warm enough?” Kennyo asked after softly closing his book and putting an arm around her shoulders, giving her a small squeeze.

“Yes, thank you Kennyo dear.”

“Dinner is about to come out. Are you all gonna get your butts into the dining room?” Masa bounced out the kitchen a tea towel draped over one shoulder bashing a ladle against a pot lid to gain everyone’s attention.

“Eloquent as ever Masa.” Yoshimoto cracked a joke that had everyone laughing before rising from his seat.

“Hey man, my food speaks for itself.”

“It’s true and it has much better manners.” Ieyasu grumbled from by Masa’s elbow as they had both been in the kitchen.

“HEY! Just for that Yasu I’m putting one less strawberry on your desert.” Masa tried to make a grab for the fluffy-haired blonde and missed.

“See if I care.”

---

“Oh my god! What is all this?” She couldn’t quite get over it. When they all made it to the dining room nothing was as it was normally. The furniture was still there but it was now covered in finely crafted paper decorations and things that looked like glitter gems. Fairy lights and strings of lanterns had been draped around the space too.

“It was supposed to be a surprise BBQ dinner but when it rained, we had to set everything up in here instead.” Ieyasu explained.

“We wanted to have dinner under the moon with our brightest star.” Shingen took her hand placing a kiss on the back of it.

“More poetic claptrap.” Kenshin said brushing past into the room making for the drinks set up on the sideboard.

“You guys did all this?”

“Yes. Ranmaru and Mitsunari were in charge of helping Yoshimoto with the paper decorations. Kennyo went out with Hideyoshi and Shingen to gather the rest of the decorations. Masa dragged Ieyasu around the market for the food.” Sasuke began his break down of the day's events as if he was reciting something from one of his science reports.

“It was hell” Ieyasu muttered his ears turning a little red for some reason.

“Kenshin and Mitsuhide arranged all the drinks. And Yukimura and I were in charge of all the setting up. And the dismantling…”

“And the setting up... again.” Yuki added putting an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders a proud smile on his face.

“Haha, that all sounds like a hell of a lot of work. Was this what you were all being so secretive about?” Naiya looked around the room the many smiling faces of the people she loved and who loved her in return. “It’s wonderful but don’t you think it’s a little overly elaborate for dinner?”

“What do you mean?” The smiles from before were replaced by ones of varying confusion.

“Oh, dear it seems the Princess has forgotten.” Mitsunari gave a kind look as he empathised with her. What? What have I forgotten?

“I think you could be right.”

“Foods here come and get it!” Masa came in carrying the last of the large platters of food, the roast beef and chicken carved up beautifully in a mouth-watering display.

“Great I’m starving.” The last man to join in the gathering stood in the doorway making an over-exaggerated display out of stretching, his shirt untucking itself from his pants revealing just a hint of bare skin at his hips

“Hey, Motonari where did you just spring from?” Ranmaru gave a judgemental glare. In all the break down of things done today, it didn’t appear that the guy with a reputation as most hard to pin down when chores were being done had actually done anything to help today.

“Nowhere. I was sleeping. Ooo chicken!” With carefree abandon and completely ignoring anyone else’s opinions on the matter, Motonari grabbed a chicken leg from the platter as it was being set down and brought it up to his mouth taring a piece off it like a caveman.

“Hey don’t go taking it like that! Bloody Pirate.”

“Snooze you lose.”

“What is it I’m supposed to have forgotten?” Her words drew 13.5 sets of eyes back to her as she was guided into her seat at the table. Seriously what is so important?

“What tomorrow is Fireball.” Nobu took a cake from a different table carrying it over to put in front of her. The beautiful mirror glaze looked like a galaxy.

“Nobu is that?”

“I went into town myself on an errand and got this from your favourite bakery.”

“Oh my…” Her eyes fell on the scripture picked out in flowing fondant on the top.

You are our Sun in the daytime and Brightest Star in our night

The room was silent for a moment waiting for her blissfully happy smile to settle on her face before it was broken by a chorus of voices. How could I have forgotten this?

“1, 2, 3… Happy Birthday, Princess!”

---

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freddie-roger-brian-john · 5 years

Text

The fat bottomed girl (Gwilym!Brian x reader)

Request - Hi there! I don’t know if you’re taking requests right or not, but if you are: I would love to read something about the night or girlfriend Brian wrote Fat Bottom Girls about.

A/N - thanks for sending a request in!

Warnings - mention of weight, swearing, Brian being cute as fuck.

Word count - 1756

——————

"Y/N?" Brian asked, sticking his head around the door of the bathroom. "You almost ready?" You nodded at him, quickly hiding the newspaper article you had been distracted by.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute," you told him, turning around so that he wouldn't be able to see the tears in your eyes. He gave you a quick smile before closing the bathroom door and letting you finish getting ready in peace. In truth, you had been ready for at least eight minutes. You would've left the bathroom and went down to breakfast with Brian at your side had it not been for the article in front of you. You pulled it from it's hiding space and read it once more.

BACHELOR BRIAN MAY FINALLY TAKEN?

Rejoice! Apparently it’s not just pretty, petite girls who get famous lovers! Lead Guitarist of Queen, Brian May, was spotted entering and leaving his hotel room with a mystery woman at his side. Many are already speculating who this fat bottomed girl is and what kind of relationship they share. Is she just a friend like May has claimed? Or is there something more serious going on? (See more on page 14)

That phrase, that nickname, kept popping into your mind. "Fat bottomed girl." You glanced at yourself in the big bathroom mirror. Sure, during your teenage years you had been a little insecure about your weight but that's just what teenage girls were like. You were an adult now, this sort of stuff wasn't supposed to matter anymore. So then, you wondered, why was that nickname bothering you so much?

This was precisely the reason that Brian had suggested keeping your relationship a secret. You both knew that the second the two of you went public, you would be judged by the media. You could've been the most beautiful, most kind, most intelligent woman in the world but the press would've found something to nitpick regardless.

You shook your head. This was silly. You knew you shouldn't be crying over a stupid story in an equally stupid newspaper. You gave yourself a moment a calm down, wiped your eyes, and took a deep breath before leaving the bathroom.

You made your way out of your hotel room and soon enough, you found the boys, Veronica, Dominique, and Mary sitting around a large table, food on their plates.

Roger was in the middle of telling a very animated story, his hands waving all about the place as he spoke, as you sat down next to Brian. He must've been able to tell something was wrong because as soon as he saw you he quietly asked if you were alright. You just nodded and tried to listen to Roger's story.

Throughout the whole breakfast, you could feel Brian's eyes studying you. He knew something was wrong but he also knew you didn't want to talk about it so he didn't press you for answers. Instead, he sat there, concerned about the tell tale signs of sorrow that you were desperately trying to hide.

You tried to get that nickname out of your mind. Today was meant to be a fun day and you weren't going to let a stupid newspaper article ruin that. Today was the last day of your three day holiday. It was also the last day that the boys had before they had to back to the studio to record their newest album so they were all set on making the most of it.

The eight of you had decided to go up north for your holiday and so, you all spent your last day in Edinburgh by going around all of the tourist spots - like the castle - before spending your evening in small pub.

You and Brian returned to your hotel room at about one in the morning. You had barely touched the mattress when you fell asleep, completely exhausted by the busy day. Brian made sure to pull the duvet over you before he went to the bathroom to have a quick shower.

However, as he closed the bathroom door, he spotted something sitting on the counter by the sink. It was the newspaper article you had read that morning. He picked it up, intrigued by seeing his own name.

His eyes lingered on the nickname they had given you and everything seemed to click in his mind. He knew that this had to be what you had been upset about.

He left the bathroom, completely forgetting about his shower, and looked over at you. Yes, your snores were loud and yes, your hair was an absolute state, but he couldn't have cared less. In that moment, as your presence alone calmed the anger that the newspaper had planted in him, he knew that he loved you.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to let a nickname get you down.

He picked up his guitar, which he always kept by the bed (even if he was staying in a hotel room), and he strummed a chord quietly to see if it would wake you up.

Thankfully, you had drunk a little too much at the pub and was out for the count.

Brian stayed up all night. By the time the sun was beginning to rise, lyrics were floating around his head and he swore he could hear his chord progression without even playing it. As you stirred, early morning deciding to wake you up, Brian quickly sat down his guitar, hid the paper that he had written lyrics onto, and climbed into bed. When you tiredly turned around to look at your boyfriend, he pretended to be asleep (which was difficult for him without actually falling asleep).

"Bri?" You whispered, your throat filled with early mornings and sleep. You glanced at the clock on the wall. "Bri? We've got to be out of here in an hour."

He pretended to wake up, thankful that you were too sleepy notice his terrible acting. His eyes opened and he quickly pressed a kiss to your lips. You smiled.

"What was that for?" You asked him.

"For being perfect," he told you. "For having the kindest heart, the prettiest face-" he wrapped his arms around you, his hands resting dangerously low on your back "- the best body."

You raised an eyebrow but were glad for the unprovoked compliments.

"Well then, I think I owe you a kiss as well," you said before doing just that, "for having the brightest mind-" kiss "-the best hair-" kiss "-and the biggest-"

"Brian! Y/N!" Came the voice of Roger Taylor as he burst into your hotel room.

"What?" You demanded, annoyed that Roger had ruined your moment. He seemed to realise he had walked in on something intimate because he was trying not to smile.

"Uh, Deaks just wanted me to make sure everyone was up," he said. "He's paranoid about us missing our flight back to London." You rolled your eyes, promptly told him to get out, and turned back to Brian.

"He's right," you said, "we should get up." He nodded somewhat regrettably.

"Suppose."

—————— Two days later

You arrived at the recording studio at about six on Tuesday. Brian had invited you round, he said he had something he wanted to show you. You couldn’t help but be excited, the last time he did something like this, he had asked you to move in with him.

“Hey, Y/N,” said John as he spotted you standing in the doorway, “Brian’s just through there.” He pointed towards a door at the other side of the room.

“Thanks, John,” you told as you crossed the room to find your boyfriend. Poking your head around the door, you spotted him sitting hunched over. “Brian?” He looked over his shoulder, spotted you, and his face lit up like a child’s at Christmas.

“Y/N,” He said, standing up to give you a quick kiss. When he pulled back and you saw his face close to your own, you noticed how tired he looked. He was pale with purple bags under his eyes, and his stubble (which he usually shaved every morning) was longer than you had seen in a long time.

“Jesus, Brian, when was the last time you slept?” You asked him, to which he only smiled.

“I’ve been busy,” he explained. “We just finished recording one of the new songs. I’ve been writing and recording it for pretty much the last three days.”

“Is that what you wanted to show me?” You asked. He nodded and turned to play you the song. He pressed play and the singing began.

Are you gonna take me home tonight?

Your face lit up upon hearing the opening line. The lack of music and the strong harmonies made you smile. You could pick out all their voices and they never failed to amaze you.

Ah, down beside that red firelight?

Are you gonna let it all hang out?

Fat bottomed girls, you make the rocking world go round!

The smile on your face faltered and Brian became suddenly very worried that the song had only upset you more. As the instruments, most notably his guitar, started to play, he was beginning to regret all the hard work he had put into the song. He looked down at his feet and began to apologise.

“Y/N, if you don’t like it-”

But he didn’t get to finish his apology. He had almost knocked him off his chair as you hugged him as tightly as you could. “I love it,” you said into his shoulder. So overcome with relief, he relaxed and melted into the hug. “I’m guessing you saw the article?”

“Yeah,” he said, “But you know that everyone who writes for that paper is a wanker, right? Just last week they were calling Freddie all sorts of names.” He pulled back from you as the chorus began to play again. “You know you’re better than them, right? You’re better than any shitty nickname they can come up with.”

He kissed you right as Freddie’s voice sang the nickname again. When you had first read it and you had cried in the bathroom, you had been so embarrassed by it but now, as you sat there with your lips on Brian’s and his hand on your face, you were strangely proud of it.

You were a fat bottomed girl and there was no way in hell you were going to make a stupid newspaper make you feel bad about it for one second.

#bohemian rhapsody #borhap #queen #brian may #gwilym lee #fanfic #roger taylor #ben hardy #one shot #imagine #red writes #this is messy af

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thewadapan · 5 years

Photo

I rewrote the most infamous Transformers comic of all time.

I wanna give fair warning here. See, when I started working on this comic, I wasn’t really expecting it to turn out quite as dark as it did, and I suspect neither are you. After all, this is The Beast Within, right? The story where Grimlock goes crazy and talks in Comic Sans? How bad can things get? It turns out that - with just a few decisions made in poor taste - the answer is “very”, to the point where I feel the need to stick some kinda content warning at the top of this post. Unfortunately, I also feel like I’ve got a responsibility to the story, and there’s no way for me to do so without ruining it, so this is the best you’re gonna get.

This isn’t the first time I’ve made a comic like this. All the way back in 2016, I made “its christmas... so what??”, a kinda-bad re-lettering of a four-page ‘80s Marvel comic called “The Night the Transformers Saved Christmas”. I wasn’t too happy with the result, so half a year later I tried again - producing “PASS”, a re-lettered version of an obscure six-page UK-exclusive Marvel comic originally titled “Peace”.

“The Beast Within (My Pants)” is quite a different, uh, beast.

Each of the three comics I’ve produced was intended to be the last of its kind - standalone, yet fitting into the same overarching continuity. You can read any one of them alone, or you can read all of them in the order I made them. They’re individually available as albums on Imgur at the following links:

“its christmas... so what??”

“PASS”

“The Beast Within (My Pants)”

Alternatively, you can download the whole set as .cbz files - renamed .zip archives of images which you can open with a standard comic book reader.

It’s not too late to turn back.

Still with me? All caught up? Good. You’re probably wondering what the hell I was thinking...

I. I Have Summoned You Here For A Reason

Our story begins all the way back in 2004. The UK company Metrodome, looking to spice up their DVD box-set releases of the original ‘80s The Transformers cartoon, hired some local talent in the form of Mr. Jamieson (owner of a then-notable fansite) to write up some bonus features. They also commissioned him to write a mini-comic to be packed in with the set - with art by Mr. Gibson, a self-proclaimed fan since childhood with seemingly no other ties to the franchise.

The comic wound up being published in two parts (the second being subtitled “Consequences”) across the “Season 2 Part 2″ and “Seasons 3 and 4″ box sets. As a kid, I actually owned the latter of those box sets, and would watch it almost religiously - to what I can only assume must’ve been great annoyance from my poor parents - but I have no memory of it including a comic of any kind. Maybe it did, but it got separated at some point, and is lying around in some forgotten folder. A damn shame, that is. No, seriously.

I’m sure some record of the fan response at the time exists out there, in the doldrums of one of the many hard-to-search often-defunct forums which existed back then. I can’t really be bothered looking for it, sorry. You’ll have to content yourself with this TFWiki talk page for “The Beast Within” from mid-2007, which speaks of “Consequences” in hushed tones - as though it is a fabled artifact, prophesied to bring about Armageddon.

Another record - this one from 2009 - comes in the form of an eight-page TFW2005 thread ominously titled “Anyone afraid of the Dinobot combiner?” If you’re reading this commentary, you’re already strapped in for the long run; I recommend reading the thread in full. Well, okay, I don’t: it made me wince throughout, and I’ll be explaining the salient bits here, so there’s really no point subjecting yourself to it.

User “Razorrider”, after reading the TFWiki article on the Beast, opened the thread, noting “I don’t feel afraid of him myself.” The reactions soon started to pour in - some agreeing that the design was in fact “awesome”, others describing it as “hideous”.

Just going off my own personal opinion here, I think it’s fair to say that effectively nobody on the first page of the thread had any idea what they were talking about - and the pages that follow fared little better.

I think the main issue stemmed from the fact that a lot of those users didn’t think to explain the metrics by which they judged a “good” design (or, indeed, a “bad” story). When one person says “I think Optimus Prime has a good design”, they might just mean “I think he looks cool”, or they might mean “I think his proportions and colours give him a heroic stature which reflects his personality”. In that sense, a “good design” is one that communicates aspects of a character visually, even if it’s ugly. The Beast is hideous, yes, misshapen, yes, and it looks like the result of a teleportation accident, fine - but those are all intentional design decisions that perfectly reflect the nature of the character. In the foreword to the first part, Mr. Gibson notes the following (you’ll have to imagine that it’s written in Comic Sans for yourself):

Creating ‘The Beast’ was probably the most interesting aspect of the project. I wanted him to be a grotesque, twisted character that contained the design elements of the Dinobots he is created from.

People proclaim that the Beast “should never have existed” - a line from the comic’s narration, note - but somehow fail to realise that this is the comic’s own intent.

(Compare the Beast’s design to that posted by one user on the second page of the thread, which - minus an admittedly-inspired Triceratops-fist - just looks like an upscaled version of Grimlock.)

Okay, the alarm bells should be ringing in your head now. This is all starting to sound disturbingly like I’m some sort of The Beast Within apologist, isn’t it? How slippery is the slope that leads from “the Beast is a good design” to “The Beast Within is a good comic?” Have the hours spent poring over this thing in MS Paint turned my brain to mush, capable of only vague all-caps-Comic-Sans-penned ponderings?

...Well, yes, but- look, just stick with me!

The most accurate recurring statement in the thread - though perhaps not in the way it is intended - is that The Beast Within reads like a work of “fanfiction”. See, Transformers is a franchise with an ever-growing history, and many of those who work on it now have been lifelong fans themselves. This is true of many franchises which have stumbled into the new millennium, finding themselves seemingly unable to die. We live in an age of fanfiction - yet some fanfictions are fanfiction-ier than others.

When compared to the likes of Star Wars and Star Trek and Marvel’s comics, one sees a marked difference in Transformers. Throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, every story Hasbro put out seemed to fit vaguely into a single guiding narrative - each distinct strand of their multimedia barrage falling into contradiction with one another, yet still seeking to adapt some underlying premise. The 2001 series Robots in Disguise - in the West at least - saw a complete departure from that narrative. The ramifications of that strange borderline-afterthought cartoon cannot be understated, yet in retrospect feel like they’ve been a part of the franchise for as long as anyone can remember.

Almost every year since, Hasbro has effectively wiped the slate clean. Each new series tries to be its own thing. Continuity between series - if it exists - is understated, ignored, or overwritten. To date, this is still something that confuses us geeks; so used are we to the mired pits that are the canons of Star Wars and its ilk. This can be frustrating - there are only so many times one can retread the same story - but so too has this rare cycle allowed authors to really explore the concepts and themes presented by the premise of “car robots” to a level of depth which I believe is simply unattainable in franchises which adhere stringently to a single narrative.

That’s the bright side.

In practise, many Transformers stories have become increasingly myopic - existing only in service of themselves, or (more often) in service of older (better?) stories. The single most influential of these stories is almost certainly 1986′s The Transformers: The Movie, and it’s that influence which is felt most strongly in The Beast Within.

Of the countless insights offered by Terry van Feleday - if you don’t know who that is, don’t worry, I’ll explain later - I find that this one rings most true:

When Optimus Prime du jour mouths off “One shall stand, one shall fall” for the twentieth time, there is simply no longer that understanding that he will not be the one who stands.

Where so many modern Transformers stories are misguided recreations of the animated movie, The Beast Within is a reaction to it. But we’ll get to that. First, let’s talk a little about the story’s artwork.

Mr. Gibson himself, I believe, deserves almost none of the criticism he’s received over the years for his work on this comic. Though his layouts are occasionally cluttered, and he does seem to have been trying a little too hard to emulate the style of Pat Lee (the man behind Dreamwave Productions; license holder for Transformers comics at the time) in the first part, his panels have a strong sense of energy and tone.

Though he didn’t exactly get to explore a broad range of emotions over the course of the comic, he managed to keep the characters expressive - always a challenge, when dealing with visors and mouthplates - and, crucially for a cast of this size, on-model. Look at the fury on Razorclaw’s face! The way Prime’s fist flies out of the panel! Menasor, torn in two! Predaking’s sundered legs! The mishmash of heads inside the Beast! The sickly colours of the second half! While it lacks the practised ease seen from some fans-turned-creators on more recent books, it’s still impressive work.

Regardless, Mr. Gibson’s first outing with Transformers proved to be his last. He didn’t end up getting paid work from Dreamwave Productions as he’d perhaps hoped (though in retrospect, neither did most of the people who illustrated for that company, so that was probably for the best). There’s no mention of The Beast Within on his personal website, which bills him as a “children’s picture book illustrator”, amongst other things. To put it simply, the guy’s always been a talented illustrator, and his style’s come a long way since this comic - the portfolio work on his website is very impressive.

(On a whim, I went back to late 2004 on the internet archive, and did in fact find the comic’s first spread buried at the back end of his portfolio. The entire website is a product of the early-2000s - there’s a link labelled “Go to Flash site” in the sidebar, though the page it takes you to sadly seems to have been lost to time. It all seems like it was borne of another age entirely.)

Anyway, let’s get back to that TFW2005 thread. The thing that makes it particularly notable is that, on the fourth page, Mr. Jamieson himself wades in to try and set the record straight. It goes about as well as you’d expect.

For a lot of people, I think, the idea of interacting with an author might seem strange. They’re aware of J.K. Rowling’s online antics, and are becoming increasingly comfortable with celebrity interactions on Twitter, sure. But there’s a difference between those kinds of interactions and the kind that take place on forums or in chatrooms - places where everyone’s on a level playing field. I come from those corners of the internet, and am lucky enough to have had conversations with lots of people who’ve made things I like, and have seen almost the full range of approaches those people take when dealing with their audiences. It’s safe to say that Mr. Jamieson’s approach in that decade-old thread is just about the worse one there is: over the course of just five posts, he smugly lashed out at the people in the thread, whipping them into a fervour that lasted for three more pages after his departure.

Regardless of whether or not Mr. Jamieson was correct - in the attacks he levelled at the other users, in the defence he offered for his work - there can be no question that this kind of behaviour is grossly inappropriate.

(Whether it is more or less appropriate than digging up old threads and archived web pages in an attempt to justify a bastardisation of a much-maligned comic book remains to be seen, I suppose.)

The key point that Mr. Jamieson kept returning to is that he sought to avoid the dreaded “info dump” (a hallmark of early Transformers stories), and didn’t want his readers to be “spoon fed”. A recurring criticism of the story is that it seems to begin halfway through, with little explanation for what’s going on - but I, like Mr. Jamieson, don’t think that complaint holds water. The Beast Within begins “in medias res” because we already have the context: eighty issues of a comic, ninety-eight episodes of a cartoon, and - crucially - a movie. Everyone knows the story of the Transformers, because the story of the Transformers - ironically enough - never really changes. “Is it ever really over, Jetfire?”

(That’s the last line of the original version of The Beast Within, by the way. I had to add the comma in myself.)

Like the impact of Robots in Disguise, the impact of The Transformers: The Movie is kinda hard to see unless you were there at the time - and I wasn’t - but in 1986, it did something which was profoundly shocking to thousands of children: it introduced them to death.

That’s about all I’m going to say about the movie itself, because much more experienced critics than me have already mined it for every ounce of subtext. I’ve already quoted the work of Terry van Feleday, who did some excellent scene-by-scene analysis of the film in a thread all the way back in 2010 - and I’ll come back to her writings a few times in this post. This very year, sorta-famous YouTuber hbomberguy released his own long-form take on the movie - what I find interesting when comparing the two interpretations is that van Feleday struggles to find much merit in the movie outside of its opening, while hbomberguy employs a reading that allows him to be much more optimistic and charitable even towards the end of the movie.

In a way, I think Mr. Jamieson had an intuitive subconscious understanding of the subtext which both of those critics later brought to light, an understanding which directly informed the premise of The Beast Within. In the same way one can read the monster planet Unicron as a physical manifestation of death, so too can one view the Beast - and Mr. Jamieson (almost certainly unconsciously) posits that, although death does not belong in a children’s cartoon, it is an inevitability that all children must eventually face. It is the dark spectre that lurks beneath the surface of every childish thing made by an adult.

An author places some of themselves in a book - but the reader withdraws something of their own perception as well. I wondered what I might see in the book: a child believes a lie because they know no better; a grown adult sees the lie because it fails to line up with experience. In this way, a child’s story could be so many different experiences. With enough subtext, a thing made for a child becomes an entirely different world to an adult. [...] There’s no telling when subtext will defeat the facade of a thing.

(I’ll tell you what that quote’s from later.)

I wonder, perhaps, if the endless swathes of edgy reimaginings of children’s stories are something of a mass outcry from those who grew up being told - every Saturday morning - that when people got blown apart, they’d be put back together by the next week’s end. What was it like for those children, in December of ‘86, to learn that some people could never be rebuilt?

II. It Pleases Me To Be The First

It occurs to me that I never did really do a commentary on “its christmas... so what??”, although I did talk about it a little in the commentary for “PASS”. Its title is a reference to the famous (well, you know what I mean) cover of “Stargazing” (issue #145 of the original UK run), which featured a banner reading “IT’S CHRISTMAS!” over an image of Starscream, arms out, yelling “SO WHAT?”

(Side note: at first I thought that I hadn’t read that particular story, but it occurs to me that as a kid I used to borrow a lot of Titan Books’ reprints from my local library - and I do in fact have distinct memories of reading Transformers: Second Generation, which did collect “Stargazing” amongst other Christmas stories - so I guess I probably did read it, even if I don’t remember doing so.)

The Women’s Day comic is something of a curio, as explained in this excellent article (which reprints the comic - with its original text - in full). It’s basically the only US strip which was published outside of the eighty issues of the run proper. This rare, standalone nature is something I have sought across every re-lettering I’ve done - from the UK annual-exclusive not-by-the-usual-author set-in-the-future “Peace” to the UK DVD-box-set-exclusive set-in-an-ambiguous-cartoon-inspired-continuity The Beast Within. These works feel like they’ve been lost to time - and corrupting them feels like unearthing buried treasure (and smearing it in turds). But I’ll get to that.

Back to “its christmas”. As I explained last time, I just went through the comic panel-by-panel and changed stuff to whatever I thought would be funny. I didn’t edit the two-line introductory blurb (which ended up informing the backstory detailed in the new set of AtoZ profiles). I barely paid attention to established portrayals of the characters beyond Soundwave’s association with music. I had no large-scale plans.

There’s a lazy (and poorly-conceived) gag where the little girl calls Bumblebee “gay” (also note that at the time, I misinterpreted the art in the third panel of the third page - I thought it was the girl speaking, when in fact it was her mother - leading to some erroneous dialogue), which in retrospect feels like a less-drawn-out version of the excruciating opening scene from Freddery McMahon’s Combiner Wars abridged special. That spoof somehow manages to be less funny than its source material, and I sometimes think that the same holds for my own creations.

Still, that’s not to say that “its christmas” doesn’t do anything that I like. I’ll admit that lines like “lol without mustard christmas will be CANCEL suck it nerds”, “toot toot here come some flutes”, and “help me drag it to the hospital” still kinda make me laugh. I like the way Bumblebee drowns out the little girl’s insults by tooting loudly at her. The final panels - wherein the humans steal Bumblebee’s blood as the other Transformers watch impassively - have an offbeat intensity to them, and when it came to writing Bumblebee’s AtoZ profile it was those which I chose to call back to.

If I had to sum up “its christmas” in a single word, I’d pick “childish”. The jokes, the characters themselves, the entire concept behind the comic - all feel kinda immature, and that was kinda by design. Summer Meme Sundae was a terrible piece of work, but - if I had to ascribe a theme to it - that theme would be growing up; realising that you’re running out of summer holidays. “PASS” and “The Beast Within (My Pants)” kept that atmosphere, but became increasingly cynical and obscene. That was just the natural direction they had to go in.

III. Every Place Reminds You Of Some Place Else

I’ve long had an idle fascination with abridged series, and have toyed with the thought of making an abridged series of my own. Most notably, I’ve long fancied the idea of abridging Machinima’s Prime Wars Trilogy of Transformers cartoons. Here’s an extract from a message I posted in Allspark Chat (the Discord server associated with the Allspark Forums):

I'd probably try and keep Megatron mostly the same as he is in the show as it is. Optimus'd be kinda murderous - you can tell he can't wait for Rodimus and the rest of the Council to kick the bucket so he can retake unilateral control over Cybertron. I'd maybe try to go for something of a more sympathetic Starscream - he wouldn't actually have any plan, he just has Cybertron's interests at heart and ends up trying to use the Enigma solely to rid the world of Megatron and Optimus forever. Windblade'd maybe be trying to force some hero's journey stuff - picking fights with progressively bigger opponents in a misguided attempt to prove her narrative worth

As pitches go, it’s not much. It doesn’t help that, as I previously mentioned, Freddery McMahon himself - pretty much the only name in Transformers abridging - has already tackled the series; his style of parody isn’t really to my taste, but his production value is fairly impressive and would largely overshadow any improvements I made on a script level. I feel like the Prime Wars Trilogy has potential, because it’s a fascinating piece of media, but I find myself unable to answer the question of how to parody something that already feels so much like self-parody. Sound familiar?

By the time the last entry in that series - Power of the Primes - was wrapping up, I'd been posting semi-frequently in the Allspark’s threads with a borderline-apologetic tone. Takes included:

The emptiness of Cybertron lends it a Beast Machines-esque tone

The Mistress of Flame’s death is cathartic

You can see right through the script

I want to get off Machinima’s wild ride

Wow, Windblade sure screams a lot, doesn’t she

The finale of Titans Return is good, actually

Hearing Megatron say “piss me off” is an unpleasant surprise

Hey, this soundtrack’s pretty good

Wait, no it’s not, but Galvatron’s implied reversion to Megatron is

Narrative emergence gives rise to Buddhist allegories in TFTM

Grimlock acts like his cartoon self - but only around friends

Okay, for realsies, the soundtrack’s good now

They’re right to kill Sludge; he’s the least toyetic Dinobot

I’d probably describe a lot of what I saw in the Prime Wars Trilogy as a kind of narrative pareidolia - only instead of seeing faces in inanimate objects, I was seeing value and meaning in an indefensible web series.

The problem with abridged series is that they require a ridiculous amount of effort. You need to be a good writer in the traditional sense, but you need to be able to work around the visual material available - you’re gonna have to edit everything yourself, you’re probably gonna need to do custom animation, and you’re certainly gonna need to wrangle a cast of voice actors. All of that for ten minutes of animation that’s probably gonna get taken off YouTube within ten minutes of upload. It’s just not feasible - and yet there’s part of me that loves the idea: commentary and content, all rolled into one.

To pretend that it was Combiner Wars that led me to create “The Beast Within (My Pants)” is a little misleading, however. The real answer - I’m sorry to say - has more to do with ponies.

See, every now and again I get very acute nostalgia for My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic, which was perhaps my first brush with fandom - or at least, proper fandom. It’s heard to measure these things, y’know? Anyway, when that happens, I realise that I don’t really want to sit and watch a cartoon for little girls, so I usually just listen to some fan-made music or - as was the case last time - rewatch one of the abridged series based on the show. I use the word “series” here in plural because there were in fact two (well, two that matter): Friendship is Witchcraft and The Mentally Advanced Series. There’s long been quiet debate over which of the two is the (soundwave) superior series, and I’ve historically believed that they’re (buy some) apples and oranges. The latter is a more thoughtful parody of the source material, while the former is more polished and standalone.

However, after blitzing through Friendship is Witchcraft once more in its entirety over the course of a couple of days, something about it clicked for me - a bigger-picture thesis - and I realised that it had much more to say about its source material than I (or, well, most people) had given it credit for. It was at that moment that I felt the awful urge to create a My Little Pony fanwork of my own.

(The quote I used earlier, about subtext in children’s stories, was spoken by Princess Celestia in Rainbow Dash Presents: The Star in Yellow, a Mentally Advanced Series special inspired by a fanfiction which, fittingly enough, was written by Matt Marshall (AKA Blueshift/blue/Yartek/RockLordsRock), who was also the man behind the infamous “JaAm” relettering which effectively inspired all of these projects of mine. It’s like poetry.)

As we’ve already established, making a fancy-schmancy animation was out of the question - but a crudely-edited-in-MS-Paint comic was the next best thing, clearly. I started glancing through IDW Publishing’s official My Little Pony comics - having purchased a few in a Humble Bundle many years ago - but, aside from a couple of promising stories, quickly realised I didn’t have much hope. The comics are just, to put it frankly, not as good or as interesting as the show, and the fact that I’d need to adapt at least two issues at once (over forty pages) to tell any complete story made doing so an unappetising prospect. Furthermore, IDW’s comics are still very much in print, and (as the abridged series show) any such parody would stand on shaky legal ground.

Seeing as I wasn’t about to delve into the dark realm of prose any time soon, and the idea of messing with some other fan’s work rubbed me the wrong way, I decided to give up on my equine dreams and instead turned back to more familiar territory. I glanced over the list of old Transformers Marvel comics, but nothing like those I’d previously relettered stood out to me. I perused the short stories included in Dreamwave’s 20th Anniversary Transformers Summer Special. I even looked into some Fun Publications stuff. Nothing sparked my interest.

Perhaps my most promising lead was “An Arcee Sort of Day”, a vaguely-maligned (as in, “meh”) three-page standalone comic released mere months ago by IDW as part of an anthology - but the poor resolution of the available scan (the comic had been released in its entirety as part of the free preview for the anthology) meant that editing it would be a nightmare, and there was very little in the way of dialogue for me to mess with besides. More than that, the idea of directly mocking a comic from a compilation designed to showcase female creators (particularly one featuring Arcee, who’s been a controversial character in recent years) struck me as tasteless in the extreme. If only I had an easier target!

Oh wait, I did.

IV. Let The Slaughter Begin

If I actually ever read both parts of The Beast Within before starting work on this project, I don’t remember doing so. I do remember reading the Beast’s TFWiki page when I was much younger, and remember feeling like the wiki’s take on the concept seemed disproportionately harsh. To be honest, it was quite vindicating to read the source material and discover that I still agreed with my younger self’s assessment - the problems with the story are not on a conceptual level, but in the execution.

I barely gave myself time to digest the story before diving in and working out how exactly I could mess it up. I knew from my previous comics that the Autobots would all be unrepentant shitheads, so the natural choice was to portray the Decepticons as favourably as possible. Where the Autobots are callous, poorly-spoken, stupid, and divided, the Decepticons would be caring, articulate, intelligent, and united. In the story’s context, these traits would be weaknesses: remember, only the Beast has the killing instinct needed for decisive victory in this endless children’s story. I also knew that everybody in the story would hate Grimlock, and that - unlike with Roadbuster in “PASS” - they’d be right to do so.

That was pretty much the extent of my planning. I gathered up all the pages and started clearing out the text from the speech bubbles. Already, I had something of a problem: the use of the infamous Comic Sans MS font in the first part of The Beast Within was one of its most iconic features, and I wanted to retain that, but my own previous reletterings had canonically established Times New Roman as the “voice” of the Autobots. In fact, as far as those older comics were concerned, Times New Roman was the voice not just of the whole Cybertronian race, but also of the narrator.

The only lines which used a different font were those where I’d chosen to retain the comic’s original lettering, and with Roadbuster’s dialogue. It’s hard to articulate what exactly the joke with Roadbuster was - he seemed like the odd-one-out in the opening panels of the story, so I ran with that by having him be persistently ostracised by the other Autobots. The twist, as you find out when he finally speaks, is that he seems to be the only Autobot who’s unambiguously a good person; the rest bully him for effectively no reason.

In the commentary for “PASS” I released earlier this year, I explicitly ask:

If these are the Autobots… then what were the Decepticons like?

My own gut feeling was, I think, that they were people like Roadbuster - genuinely good individuals who never wanted a fight - and so for this comic I knew I had to give them Roadbuster’s Arial voice. I also knew that I’d have to keep the Autobots’ Times New Roman voice for the most part. The only question, then, was what to do about Grimlock, the combiners, Jetfire, and the narration.

(It’s worth noting that Soundwave and Triton were both Decepticons too, yet they both spoke in Times New Roman. The Doylist reason for this is simply that, at the time, I was happy to have everyone share a voice. In Triton’s case, the Watsonian reason is that he’s trying to mimic the Autobots’ “accent” to better fit in. If I had to make up a reason for Soundwave, I’d say that he’s only recently defected from the Autobots, as a reference to van Feleday’s insane Soundwave-as-an-ex-prisoner-of-war theory. Had Soundwave had a speaking role in the comic, I’m sure I would’ve explored that backstory in his AtoZ profile - but alas, it wasn’t to be.)

In fact, there was initially some ambiguity over who the comic’s narrator would be - if I used Times New Roman, would I have to keep the voice of the same narrator as in the previous two comics? In the end, I decided to draw from my source material: the on-panel narration would be Grimlock’s inner monologue, rendered in full Comic Sans glory, while the "Interlude” would employ a more omniscient third-person voice. That third-person voice is, I think, distinct from the narrator of the previous comics, and feels like a more solemn version of the narrator of the AtoZ profiles I released alongside the commentary for “PASS” (or, indeed, the latest batch included here). Remember, I wrote the first two comics years before all of this recent material. More on the text-only pages later.

When he speaks out loud, Grimlock uses the regular Times New Roman of the other Autobots. In fact, the only dialogue which uses Comic Sans is that of the Beast, which I view as the true externalisation of Grimlock’s feelings. You can also view it as the “real world” (as depicted in the text-only pages) leaking through into the comic’s reality, in much the same way that an aware-of-death adult perspective seeps through into a seemingly-innocent children’s cartoon. The other combiners simply use a slightly bigger font than the individual Decepticons. Oh, and all of the combiners use red text.

In the original toyline, Jetfire was something of an odd-one-out, as he was really a Macross “VF-1S Super Valkyrie” toy licensed by Hasbro from Bandai (who had in turn purchased the molds from the recently-bankrupted Takatoku toys). Both Whirl and Roadbuster have similar origins. I was under no obligation to do anything special with Jetfire’s dialogue, but because of the way he’s introduced in the comic - and as a nod to his shared real-world history with Roadbuster - it felt right to give him his own voice. Though he still uses Times New Roman, the font is scaled up and he speaks entirely in capital letters. His dialogue was a challenge to write, as most of his speech bubbles are very small, but I think this worked out in my favour: his speech often ended up butting up against the bubbles’ outlines, giving the impression that he’s always speaking just a little bit too loudly.

The lettering in the first part of the original comic - aside from being technically legible - is generally shoddy on every level. For emphasis, it alternately uses italics or inconsistent font size. Occasionally, the dialogue switches to lowercase, which kinda gives the impression that everyone’s been shouting the whole time. Most of the text is left-aligned. Some bits of text seem to have been squashed. Most of the narration boxes are parallelograms, but some are plain rectangles. Red hand-lettered text is mostly limited to the combiners’ speech, but also sees use a couple of times for Megatron and Optimus Prime. Some of the combiners’ speech just uses normal red Comic Sans MS text. Meanwhile, the second part switches entirely to black hand-lettered text - presumably from Mr. Gibson - which is a marked improvement in terms of tone and consistency, if a step down in legibility.

It’s interesting to me that, despite my version of the comic sharing the dearth of commas and full stops which plagues the original, it reads very differently. For all its stylisation, it’s my hope that each line I write for these comics comes across realistically - not in the sense that it’s something you’d hear someone say, but perhaps in the sense that it’s something you’d maybe read on the internet. More on that later - first, some miscellaneous notes on the comic’s text:

When I first wrote it, I used the style of self-censorship from “PASS” (and, by extension, the rest of Summer Meme Sundae) wherein the first letter of any curse is replaced by an asterisk. It was one of my prereaders, Tindalos, who noted that “the censoring kinda takes a bit from it”, and I decided that I agreed with him - it felt like I was holding back. You can decide for yourself; I’ve collected the pages with lines that were revised between drafts in an album.

Through pure coincidence, it’s Springer (well, Bulkhead) who gets the first line of dialogue in the comic - just like in “PASS”. In case it’s not clear, the joke is that he thinks he’s safe on the floor and berates Jazz for not doing the same thing, seconds before getting stomped by Megatron. I think this sequence perfectly encapsulates a big part of what I wanted to show about the Autobots: they all criticise one another relentlessly, despite being deeply flawed themselves. It’s a dynamic that, to me at least, actually evokes that of the Autobots in Michael Bay’s movies.

The line “thats me grimlock in the corner losing my religion” is, of course, a reference to R.E.M.’s song “Losing My Religion”, which was itself included as part of writer James Roberts’ “soundtrack” for More Than Meets The Eye. Though he did not appear in the issue for which Roberts selected the song, Grimlock was a recurring character in that series. Hopefully my depiction of the character surpasses that one - though if you ask the people I usually talk to, I wouldn’t be setting the bar particularly high with that comparison.

Optimus uses the insult “grimdick” shortly after Grimlock’s narration provides the example “grimcock”. I intended this to show that, while the dynamic between the two’s been cemented for a good while, Grimlock is always a step behind and still can’t predict Prime’s actions.

Snarl’s line was originally “hey speak for yourself swoop me and grimlock are tight as *hit”, which expresses effectively the opposite sentiment to his final line. The idea that Snarl was okay with becoming part of the Beast was intended to add a bit of brevity to the sequence - but I decided it was better to keep as much emotional impact as possible in the moment.

A more minor change a couple of pages later is Grimlock’s line “how do they do it”, which replaced “love is stupid”. I wanted to expressly draw a parallel between the Beast’s combination and Predaking’s.

The line I’m happiest with is “eat shit megatron this is what you get for being such a fucking weapon”. One of my friends occasionally cracks out the word “weapon” to describe someone - and what better application for it is there than a guy who literally turns into a gun?

Megatron’s line about the “black hole” in Optimus Prime’s spark is a twist on Megatron’s own canonical link to a black hole - an aspect of his original bio which was revisited by Roberts.

I struggled to think of Menasor’s final words. The longer I stared at the panel where he gets torn in half - from which I’d already cleared the speech bubble - the more I was struck by the emptiness of the scene. If one considers Menasor to be a symbol for the Decepticons as a whole, then his silence in that panel is my way of showing that - from this point forth - the Decepticons no longer have a voice; the second part of the comic shows naught but their corpses. Death exists, and nothing is good any more.

None of the text on the final page of the first half remained unchanged between drafts. I wan’t happy with Optimus Prime’s original line at all, and the internal monologue “don’t you deserve happiness” felt a little too serious. The phrase “no u” is the archetypical low-effort comeback, and seemed like the perfect beat to end the first part with.

Prime’s line “gotta jettison some dead weight” is a nod to Astrotrain’s iconic line in The Transformers: The Movie: “Jettison some weight, or I’ll never make it to Cybertron.” I had to check for the exact quote just now and found “jettison transformers the movie” in my search history, so obviously I’d done the same when writing the panel. More than just being a trite reference, I was hoping to draw an obvious parallel and to contrast the unilateral decision Optimus Prime makes on the following page against the more shall-we-call-it-democratic process the Decepticons used in the movie.

I’m probably a little too proud of “big red irredeemable fucking monster of a robot semi fuck”, which is a line that could absolutely only exist in this travesty of a comic.

Jetfire’s use of the phrase “GOTTA BLAST” is a reference to a line spoken by the titular character of the early-2000s CGI cartoon Jimmy Neutron: Boy Genius, one which has turned into something of a meme. When I wrote the panel, I intended to imply that Jetfire was aiming to crash into the city - but I think it ended up doubling as foreshadowing for the fact that Jetfire flies his passengers into the sun. Additionally, the meme often sees use as innuendo, which shines through in the following panel: Jetfire expels propellant into the Beast’s face while Bumblebee remarks “gah okay i did not want to see that”. The less said about the sound effect “CHOOOM!”, the better.

Remember how all the text in the first part of the original comic was left-aligned? So’s the text in my version! MS Paint simply doesn’t have the option to change the alignment of your text - I actually had to throw in extra spaces at the start of each new line, eyeballing things until I had an approximation of centre alignment. This is something I never did with “PASS”, and I found that doing so gave me more freedom to squeeze more stuff into the speech bubbles.

As immortalised by countless memes, you can’t rotate text in MS Paint either. I tried to use this to my advantage on the comic’s first page, where the steps between the words in Grimlock’s narration give them a faltering quality.

Grimlock’s narration actually ended up being one of the most challenging parts of the comic to write. I wrote a draft of the first page pretty quickly, but decided I wasn’t happy with it and that I’d have to replace it later - which I did, but only after having written pretty much every single other bit of dialogue.

I think the central conceit of “PASS” - that somebody’s farted and the Autobots are trying to find out who dealt it - didn’t solidify until I reached the second page and looked at Rodimus Prime’s body language. In much the same way, the crux of “The Beast Within (My Pants)” didn’t solidify until it came to writing Swoop’s line.

V. Me Grimlock Not Nice Dino

At some point during the creation of “The Beast Within (My Pants)”, I started thinking a lot about incels.

(To be clear, this is the part of the commentary where things get a bit weird, and I start talking about storytelling decisions which I think were made in poor taste but which I don’t think come across overtly in the comic itself. Feel free to skip ahead to the next section. Or, y’know, stop reading entirely.)

Grimlock is childish, despite his age, and is desperate to be liked - no, respected - at any cost. His only asset is his BRUTE STRENGTH. He hates Prime, but wishes he was Prime. He has trouble treating any of the other Autobots like people. He rages against an outgroup whose ideals are - at least ostensibly - rooted in empathy.

I wouldn’t say “I wrote a comic where Grimlock is an incel”, because that’d be a pretty stupid thing to write and I’d feel pretty stupid saying it.

Looking back at a lot of my previous work on this blog, some things do crop up again and again. In abstract, I’d say that the idea of a character seeking friendship and/or respect - and failing to understand why they can’t find those things - is one that I’ve revisited a couple of times. This was a strong theme in the latter half of Another Son - a story which dealt heavily in misanthropy - which featured a character inspired by Sam Witwicky from Michael Bay’s Transformers. The protagonist of Retrace Steps spent the whole story unable to even ask the question “why am I alone”. Many of the characters in Are You Happy - particularly Mr. Hernandez - deal with similar problems to varying extents.

So this makes, what, practically four stories in a row? I didn’t set out to approach things this way again with this comic, but from the moment I wrote Swoop’s line I knew I didn’t have a choice. When people talk about the Beast’s combination sequence, they talk about how violative it appears. Metal tentacles spring from Grimlock like one of Alien’s chestbursters, penetrating or melding with the other Dinobots’ bodies. After that, the resulting monstrosity ambles around, horrifically murdering its former peers. As much as I can have the characters in the story play this stuff off for laughs, I’ll never be able to erase the undercurrent.

This isn’t supposed to be a direct mapping - a perfect metaphor - and by the time this commentary’s done I hope I’ll have pointed in the direction of some alternate perspectives. It just seems important to put my cards on the table and say that, when I was working on this comic, this is the kinda thing I was thinking about. We thought children were safe with Transformers, and then a gun came and shot people they cared about, and for some reason we were surprised to see that they got upset.

With all of that in mind, I take some solace in the fact that I actually found getting into Grimlock’s head to be extremely difficult. His dialogue was a breeze to write, sure - that’s the outsider’s perspective - but actually trying to construct his thoughts in anything approximating a convincing manner was very difficult. The first draft of his narration literally included the phrase “we live in a society”.

VI. Such Heroic Nonsense

I’ve already touched on Terry van Feleday’s opus a couple of times, but I think it’s worth delving a little deeper into how exactly her analysis influenced this comic. For some reason the idea that nearly five-hundred pages of borderline-conspiracy-theorist-level ramblings about perhaps the most maligned movie franchise of the 21st century might be a tough sell is one which I can’t quite wrap my head around. I’d say that it’s because I’ve read the thing and already know that it’s good, but in truth I was pretty much sold from the moment I found out it existed.

Anyway, I frequently get into not-quite-arguments with internet strangers about Transformers, and during those discussions I frequently find myself saying “a good Transformers story should do X”, and then I have to resist the urge to add “like Michael Bay’s movies” because doing so would completely delegitimise the point I’m trying to make. The problem is that, because I’m deliberately omitting the context of my opinions, they come across as being even more bizarre.

I think that same problem exists in some capacity with this comic, where I’m drawing on sources which are intuitive to me but completely alien even to a typical Transformers fan. I’ve yet to even mention the other primary inspiration for this story, which is even more arcane.

Perhaps it’s important to stress that van Feleday doesn’t offer a typical "theres actually zero difference between good & bad things. you imbecile. you fucking moron" take. Rather - and I realise I’m about to butcher this - she shows how the humans in Bay’s movies give increasing amounts of power to an alien cult leader because their only alternative is to get wiped out by an alien warlord. So in terms of this comic, “Autobots bad” is very much rooted in her reading of those movies, while “Decepticons good” is just something I thought would be funny.

Well, not exactly. I’ve already mentioned Combiner Wars; something that continues to baffle pretty much everyone who watched that show (and its sequels) is that, while it seems to have no idea what it’s doing most of the time, its portrayal of Megatron is an absolute riot. He is absolutely the protagonist of that series, the Only Sane Man in a world of bizarre psychotic caricatures. I think the same kinda holds in the continuity of my comic, only he’s had more time to bring the people he takes in around to his way of thinking.

Let’s not forget the official “good-is-bad” continuity of Shattered Glass, which - while heavily compromised - was the source of many interesting reinterpretations of popular characters. Effective reinterpretations require you to forget what you know about a character and strip them back to the core signifiers, which you can then put to different use. One of the posters in Terry van Feleday’s thread, “Lobok”, observes:

I like the idea that Bay or the writers looked at Optimus Prime and thought "What would a guy who calls himself that really act like?" Imagine you knew or heard of someone, a human, who called themselves the equivalent of "The #1 Bestest Superior" or "King Supreme Ultimate" - do you not picture either a 7-year old boy or a mentally deficient oo-rah alpha male? Maybe the two combined? Seems much more apt than a wise, noble father figure.

Of the course, I don’t for a second think that Michael Bay had any such thought - but the connection still exists for the audience to make. Therein lies one of the greatest unspoken strengths of Transformers storytelling: the sheer breadth and depth of the signifiers at play. Much of what van Feleday did in her thread was to boil down the concepts found in Transformers stories to reveal those core signifiers.

(Almost a year ago, I wrote a piece for the Refined Robot Co. blog which explored some of her findings by delving into the subtextual meanings of the countless alternate modes worn by Megatron over the years.)

By the same token, I think there’s something to be said for the way Grimlock’s alternate mode ties into his portrayal in my take on The Beast Within. He turns into a dinosaur - something which is rooted in the past, extinct, unable to develop - while most of the other Autobots turn into modern vehicles. Kids may love dinosaurs, but they’ll likely grow up to have a stronger interest in cars or tanks. Grimlock is immature almost to the point of childishness; his beast mode is the lizard king, and he doesn’t understand why you won’t bow.

(Obviously I’m making some big generalisations here for the sake of a point - the other Dinobots have their own prehistoric disguises, and kids’ interests develop in varied enough ways that perhaps this link is only noticeable to those who experienced the transition I describe. When I was much younger, I was obsessed with dinosaurs, and would consume all the dinosaur-related media I could get my hands on. Eventually, however, my crippling fear of sea monsters led me to stop reading books about them - I'd turn the page, see a full-spread painting of a pliosaur taking a bite out of a pterodactyl, and shit my pants. Okay, no, that’s a huge exaggeration: more likely it just got to the point where I knew basically all of the cool dinosaur facts already, and suddenly the deep lore of the grim darkness of the 41st millennium or whatever seemed way cooler. I just find it funnier to imagine that my prosperous future in paleontology was averted for fear that I’d discover the last living specimen of a plesiosaur.)

VII. Where’d You Learn To Talk Like That

Back in “PASS”, I think there was some question as to who exactly was the coolest dude; the biggest guy. Rodimus was in charge, but the others didn’t really respect his authority in the end. Although Triton was an underdog in that story, he wasn’t at the bottom of the pack - no, that role went to Roadbuster. Everyone seems to like Ultra Magnus, but it’s never really made clear as to why that is.

Grimlock’s personality and role within the Autobots was pretty much the first thing I solidified when it came to writing “The Beast Within (My Pants)”. I knew that he was the lowest of the low; the nail in every Autobot’s tyre. As Grimlock evolved, so too did Optimus Prime - the second-most-prominent character in the comic. "The #1 Bestest Superior" became a murderous jock, and the Autobots became his cult of personality.

Speaking of cults of personality, I’ve been posting regularly in the Homestuck Discord server since November of last year. There’s no other place like it on the internet, and - truth be told - I’m not sure any explanation of it I could provide would suffice. The server was created by some guy called Makin - at least, we're pretty sure he’s a guy - who nobody’s ever met but who seems to have an uncanny knack for managing online communities.

Major events in that server have been comprehensively catalogued since July of 2017 by long-standing moderator “Drew Linky” in his journal Several People Are Typing. Between the entries and the related materials, it’s probably around half a million words in length. There’s no other document like it on the internet.

For the first fifty or so pages, Drew had no intention of making his document public. Apparently, one of the reasons he wrote it in the first place was as a way of holding Makin accountable - the guy used to be (and sometimes still is) a bit of an ass. Now, I wasn’t around in 2017, so I can’t really comment on the accuracy of the document’s early entries - but as a newcomer I was struck by how different Drew’s depiction of the server was to my own experience there. If I had to guess, I’d say his style of prose and the cherry-picked nature of the document make it seem like a much more hostile place than it actually is.

In particular, Makin effectively starts out as journal’s main villain (alongside various problem users and Homestuck creators) - a capricious and unknowable entity with absolute power over the server - and many of the entries deal in some way with what users jokingly refer to as his “redemption arc”. Of course, in reality, he’s just some guy, and everyone knows that real people don’t have character arcs.

I still haven’t finished reading SPAT, but I was doing so around the time when I was working on the comic. At some point I started to draw parallels between my bizarro version of Optimus Prime and the journal’s bizarro version of Makin, and I decided to play them up. Much of Prime’s dialogue is inspired by Makin’s style of speech, using phrases like “shut the fuck up”, “nobody cares”, “holy shit”, “get fucked”, “lmao”, “literally”, “literally [...] who”, “guys”, “rational” and “you’re welcome”. I just checked and at the time of writing, with the exception of “literally who” and “you’re welcome”, he’s used every one of those phrases within the last week. Oh, and while the word “suckers” isn’t really a Makin quote, in Homestuck it’s associated with the not-quite-biggest-bad evil empress. It bears mentioning again that the complete lack of punctuation in the comic’s dialogue mirrors the most common style of typing I see online, where people drop their capital letters and full stops.

(In fairness, a lot of us kinda talk the same way in that server. I remember one time Makin said “I also need to worry about lmao becoming some kind of anime catchphrase for me”, which cut pretty deep as I’ve been overusing that phrase instead of “lol” or “haha” or whatever for ages. Look, it’s just a funny word to me: in my head I pronounce it “luh-mayo” instead of “el-em-ay-oh”. Like “I throw my sandwich in the air sometimes / saying aaay-oh / I ordered maaayo...”)

In the comic, the self-aggrandising Optimus Prime is hostile and dismissive to those around him. It might all be a front, but it might not. Even though Grimlock hates Optimus, the Dinobot seems to agree with him a lot of the time, and the narrative itself never really manages to conclusively condemn his actions. The name “Optimus” echoes the word “optimise”; so frequently thrown around in rationalist circles. One could even go so far as to say that Optimus Prime’s ultimate goal in the comic is to kill death-in-the-form-of-a-shitposter.

In seriousness, I’m drawing these comparisons in a pretty tongue-in-cheek way. I don’t actually think that the Homestuck Discord server is a cult of personality - even if, to check the user-contributed “SPAT Epilogues”, some of its populace seem determined to behave like it is. Even if this section of this commentary exists. At the end of the day, I’m gonna write what I know, and I like to think that I know a little about online communities and what happens when they go wrong. I wish I could say that “The Beast Within (My Pants)” is a cautionary tale to that effect, but in truth I don’t think it offers any conclusive answers in the same way that “PASS” perhaps did. “Only worry about the opinions of people who actually care about you,” maybe? “Death is an abomination and we shouldn’t let it anywhere near our kids”, perhaps? “You can’t force other people to like you”?

“You can’t force other people to like the things you made”?

VIII. Burnt-Out Toaster Ovens

In the re-released version of “PASS”, it seemed right to throw in something in the way of extra content. I had fond memories of the Seacon profiles published alongside the original “Peace”, and lifted the format to create short bios for all sixteen characters who appeared in the comic. These fitted neatly on a four-by-four spread (though I ended up merging Topspin and Twin Twist’s profiles and throwing in an extra one for Computron, who did not appear in the comic proper).

From the start, I knew I wanted to do something similar for “The Beast Within (My Pants)”. In fact, I already had two text-only pages to work with; each part of the original comic was prefaced with a prose introduction and a note from Mr. Gibson. I decided that I could rework the text-only pages and add another spread of profiles, using the freedom granted by prose to explain away many of the comic’s oddities.

It took me some time to carefully erase the existing text from the scans that I had, using nothing but the brush tool in MS Paint. It took me even more time to work out some potential approaches to take with the text itself. Eventually, I came up with the following ideas:

A flashback depicting Grimlock and Swoop’s breakup.

A conversation between Grimlock and Jazz (or, perhaps, Slash).

“How Ratchet Got His Head Back”, the interlude which I ended up using.

A synopsis of events between “its christmas... so what??” and “The Beast Within (My Pants)”, which ended up being my first stab at the introduction.

Some in-character commentary as Mr. Gibson, which I did end up including.

From the moment I conceived it, I was pretty set on “How Ratchet Got His Head Back”, and it ended up being a breeze to write. I didn’t end up getting a chance to squeeze in the title - a reference to an issue of More than Meets the Eye - as it didn’t really fit the original format of the page. The introduction, on the other hand, proved much more challenging. My main problem was that, were I to preface the story with a text page, I’d be asking them to read a bunch of probably-mostly-serious words before allowing them to read the comic proper. Not the best first impression!

Nonetheless, I gave it a go - you can read my first attempt in the album of the draft pages. It mostly served to lay out the continuity between my three comics. Rodimus Prime’s crew were abandoned on Cybertron by Optimus Prime (presumably Hot Rod changed his name in Optimus’ absence). Megatron, Optimus and their crews crash-landed on Earth, and millions of years later the events of “its christmas... so what??” occurred. Meanwhile on Cybertron, it took a few million years for the other Autobots to wipe out the remaining Decepticons, as seen in “PASS”. Humanity was wiped out by Optimus in retribution for their transgression (a nod to Mr. Gibson’s depiction of Earth as an empty wasteland), prompting the conflict seen in “The Beast Within (My Pants)”. Much of this timeline remains implicit in the final version of the comic.

When I wrote it, I was pretty happy with the way this information was conveyed in the first draft. It was the ever-ardent Gitaxian - one of my long-time prereaders - who made me realise just what a mistake I’d made:

Something was rubbing me the wrong way about that first prose page and I finally realized what it is / Expositing that Optimus is horrible right off the bat takes away a good chunk of the impact the comic had before you added it

He was right. My prereaders’ initial response to the comic was that Optimus Prime’s motivations were completely opaque, and I overcorrected, not realising that his inscrutability was one of the things that made him interesting. You kinda want him to behave like the Optimus Prime you know and love, but he keeps doing weird things and you never really find out why.

Suddenly, I was back at square one - no closer to having a clear idea of how to introduce the comic. Another of my prereaders, gearshift, had the solution:

It's Transformers or some shit. You've seen the cartoon right? The one with the tape guy? Yeah, the tape guy is barely in this one. What do you mean no sale? Look, fuck, it's got the dinosaur guy. He's right on the goddamn cover, you like the dinosaur guy right? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Bitch.

I liked her pitch because it seemed like it’d do a good job of filtering out readers who wouldn’t enjoy the comic. To quote Alexander Wales, author of Worth the Candle:

I kind of hate blurbs and taglines, especially for something so large and varied as Worth the Candle / My ideal synopsis would tell people what kind of story it was without actually telling them that much about the story; it would select for all the people who would fall in love with the story, and select against all the people who would find it a waste of time. / How to actually write that ... I've got no idea.

(Side note: I’m one of the people who fell in love with that story, to the point where I’ll use any opportunity to recommend it to others. It’s maybe my favourite thing written by anyone ever.)

A closely-related issue is that of content warnings: so far as I’ve been able to work out, there is no warning which I can give for “The Beast Within (My Pants)” which adequately selects against people who won’t like it while also preserving its conceptual twists and avoiding colouring the audience’s interpretation.

Getting back to the actual content of the introduction - I wound up writing less than I would’ve liked, leaving the page looking a little sparse, but hopefully making things easier for the reader. There’s relatively little to talk about in the way of trivia here. When I wrote the phrase “cut right to the spectacles” I was probably thinking of Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Cut To The Feeling”. When I mentioned “moist towelettes” I was probably thinking of Hawthorne Wipes. The phrase “truth time” was an iconic - to me, and literally no-one else in existence - line spoken by the trolling narrator of a crack story written by a high school friend of mine, the energy of which I feel like I’ve always been channelling with these comics.

The interlude, on the other hand, is crammed full of references and was a breeze to write. It was the first piece of prose I completed for the project. In general, I was trying to write in a verbose style that would be simultaneously at odds with the bulk of the issue and reminiscent of the prose of veteran Transformers scribe Simon Furman. He was known for using certain distinctive phrases repeatedly in his writing - one such phrase being “like some vast, predatory bird”. The phrase “neither sufficient inclination nor wingspan” is supposed to subtly evoke another Furmanism: “CANNOT, WILL NOT”.

In all likelihood, the interlude would not have existed had I not noticed that Ratchet’s head was in its cartoon colours in the first part of the story, but in its Marvel colours for the second. I had the idea to explain that error away in story - tying into the general schtick of “correcting” the comic - and did so by way of a reference to Ratchet’s original toy, which had a sticker with a face on it behind the windshield rather than a proper head. I was also determined to highlight the fact that Predaking’s legs remain standing for like three pages; I think this minor detail in the artwork is pretty indicative of the fact that Mr. Gibson did a good job.

The way Swoop’s contribution to the combiner is described as “puny” ties nicely to the history established between him and Grimlock in his profile. I like the way the Beast tries to hit Optimus Prime with a “truck-sized fist”. The “antimemetic shielding” was my attempt to explain the recurring disappearances of Optimus Prime’s trailer in a novel way - I did so by namedropping the key phrase from qntm’s There Is No Antimemetics Division; the trailer’s there, you just can’t perceive it and forget that it exists. Finally, “dull surprise” refers to the vague expressions that characterised Dreamwave’s house style.

For the most part, I was able to retain the ordering of the pages as in the original comic, to keep things print-friendly. The one exception to this is the prose page for the second part, which I unfortunately had to move forward so that its cover could fall across a spread. The original comics must’ve included something in the way of backmatter - art cards, perhaps, or adverts - which made up the space.

The huge cast of The Beast Within made creating a profile for every character an impossible task (especially when so many are just crowd-fillers like some of the Technobots were in “PASS”) - but it was perfectly possible to provide one for each non-combiner character with a speaking role.

(If you’ll indulge me in one last barely-relevant tangent as we head into the final stretch of this commentary, there are some rather odd inclusions/omissions in The Beast Within. On the Autobot side, pretty much every 1984-1985 character appears, with the exceptions of Trailbreaker, Hoist, Tracks, Smokescreen, Grapple, Beachcomber, Seaspray, Perceptor and Omega Supreme. The Autobot combiner teams are absent with the odd exception of Silverbolt. Twin Twist - who had been pretty much entirely absent from the original US fiction - makes an odd appearance without his partner Topspin. Steeljaw is the only one of the four 1986 Autobot cassettes to appear. Meanwhile, on the Decepticon side, oddities include the toy-inspired versions of Viewfinder and Spectro (most of the rest of the cast use cartoon-inspired character models) and the omissions of Spyglass and Buzzsaw. Some Decepticon combiner team members - Motormaster, Wildrider, Breakdown, Blast Off and Swindle - only appear in combined form. Just two of the four 1986 triple changers - Springer and Octane - appear in the comic, looking slightly out-of-place in a cast consisting mostly of characters present in the first two seasons of the cartoon. Oh, and the Deluxe Vehicles and Deluxe Insecticons are absent, but that’s to be expected in a cartoon-inspired setting.)

Here’s the first draft of Optimus Prime’s profile:

Unpredictable. Unstoppable. Unrepentant. Many words have been used to describe OPTIMUS PRIME, yet the abrasive leader of the Autobots remains something of an enigma even amongst his followers. He has ruled Cybertron for many millenia, by dint of the fact that he's apparently the only Cybertronian with a shred of competence.

It’s a product of the time where I wanted to really flesh out Optimus Prime and communicate his thoughts clearly to the audience, and as such is pretty blunt with how it characterises him. The final version is a little more subtle, drawing in elements of the scrapped introduction. I figure I may as well go through the other profiles one-by-one to give a sense for what I was thinking:

Megatron initially had a much more personal bio - which seems to have been lost to time - but I wound up cutting much of it to make space for elements of the story’s scrapped introduction.

Starscream draws inspiration from van Feleday’s interpretation of the character - she posited that Michael Bay’s version of the character was actually the Decepticon most loyal to Megatron. The contrast between that interpretation and pretty much every other in the franchise’s history (excluding Shattered Glass Starscream, of course) is pretty funny to me. I tried to use the phrase “fools errands” in as benign a way as possible, which I felt evoked a more traditional relationship between him and Megatron. “Starscream, you fool!”

Razorclaw has little in the way of characterisation in the comic beyond “noble warrior”, and his profile is a wholesale reference to The Chronicles of Narnia: he stands in for Aslan; the rest of the Predacons for the Pevensie siblings. So yes, this version of Razorclaw is a Christ-like figure. As for the witch... maybe Blackarachnia? Eh, who cares. Oh, and the idea of combining with a dead bot was one which cropped up a few times in IDW’s comics, most notably with the Combaticons in Mairghread Scott’s Till All Are One.

Onslaught was in a similar boat to Razorclaw. I found myself drawing from Till All Are One once more, hinting at a (complicated?) romance between him and another teammate.

Blitzwing has only one speaking role in the comic - a shared line with Megatron and Starscream - but I decided to count it for the sake of having a nice set of sixteen characters once more. In Transformers Animated, Blitzwing had multiple personalities, and would change forms depending on which was in control. This interpretation of the character has seen plenty of criticism, so I deliberately tried to come up with something new. I quickly settled upon the idea of tying his vehicle forms to his mood, a metaphor which seemed to dovetail nicely with the way aerial alternate forms were treated in “PASS” and which also allowed me to cement the Decepticons’ supportiveness.

Bulkhead was borne of the realisation that Springer appears prominently in both “Peace” and The Beast Within. This inconsistency is entirely the product of my decision to place my versions of those comics in the same continuity, and I decided to correct it in the tradition of “Bluster” and “Firster Aid” by having them be two separate (but related) characters. I named the new Springer after Energon Bulkhead, who was inspired by “Generation 1″ Springer - the name’s since been used more prominently by an Animated-original character and variations thereof, and is effectively fair game for “Generation 1″ stories. His actual characterisation was inspired by Springer’s behaviour in “PASS” - I liked the idea that Bulkhead bullied Springer, and Springer bullied everyone else in turn. Oh, and I wanted to tie their helicopter modes back to Blitzwing’s profile on a thematic level.

Bumblebee is the only character from “its christmas... so what??” to recur with a speaking role in “The Beast Within (My Pants)”. After scrapping the original introduction I’d planned for the comic, I was left with a single profile to bridge the gap between the two stories. My original idea was that, for their negligence in allowing the humans to steal Bumblebee’s blood, Prowl, Tracks, and Hoist would have been executed by Optimus Prime - though I’m sure he didn’t pull the trigger himself, it’s safe to assume that he didn’t warn them before setting off the nukes.

Ratchet has a characterisation inspired by something “Jonny Angel” posted in van Feleday’s thread: “Ratchet is an ambulance who practices no medicine”.

Jazz is an extremely prominent character in the comic, despite the fact that his only line is a scream in the opening panel. The comic relies on the wider context of the brand to let the audience be invested in him, but in a vacuum it’s kinda funny to see the Autobots fret so much over an effective nobody. Pretty much the entire joke in my version is just a reference to Ryan Gosling’s misguided quest to “save jazz” in La La Land - some of his character’s lines are lifted wholesale to comprise Jazz’s profile, which takes pains to avoid using any kind of pronouns (thereby maintaining the confusion over whether or not “Jazz” refers to the character or the music genre). His profile was the first I wrote.

Ironhide has a role amongst the Autobots loosely inspired by that of Drew Linky (or at least, the version of Drew Linky presented by SPAT) in the Homestuck Discord. I thought there was some symmetry there with Ironhide’s history in IDW Publishing’s comics.

Skids was a tricky character to portray, but ultimately his profile turned out to be one of the ones I’m happiest with. It’s kind of a loose riff on his portrayal towards the back end of James Roberts’ stories, where much of his arc revolved around his relationship with Nautica. According to Word of God, he had unrequited feelings for her - I decided to amp this up by giving him unrequited feelings for everyone. To tie this back to Homestuck, think Eridan/Cronus. Oh, and in terms of the Homestuck Discord server, think your typical hornyposter (and then follow the implications through in terms of Optimus Prime/Makin). The actual name “Skids Maximus” is a play on the way the suffix “Maximus” has historically been used for some combiners, “Optimus Maximus” in particular. I’m convinced I’m not the first person to do a joke like that, but nobody I asked could think of any older examples.

Grimlock was fleshed out pretty well by the comic itself, so I took his profile as an opportunity to expand upon the history of the Dinobots. I saw them as being akin to a group of friends who stuck together throughout school, winding up as an impenetrably toxic and incestuous mess with a ton of deep lore. In a way, there was a time when I was the Grimlock of my group of friends... but we all grew up.

Swoop is Grimlock’s ex-partner, a concept inspired by the other Dinobot combiner we all wish we could forget about. I’m pretty happy with the use of the word “bottom” in this context.

Snarl is based on a combination of various people I’ve known in real life - people who are perfectly nice and reasonable but have zero patience around certain other individuals. From the outside, it’s behaviour that comes across as pretty damn harsh, but - and please note that this is not an endorsement of such behaviour - it’s usually the product of a long period of aggravations.

Jetfire was the last character introduced in the comic, so it felt fitting to save his profile until last. His biography is effectively a mashup of his portrayals in the original cartoon (where he gets frozen in the Arctic Circle) and in Revenge of the Fallen (where he was a Seeker who wound up on Earth), a combination which neatly parallels Bay’s Megatron’s origins. It also references J.J. Abram’s infamous “mystery box” storytelling device, which I intended to mirror the offbeat lack of closure in the comic itself.

The final challenge I faced - one which had hounded me throughout the development of the comic - was what exactly to title it. Titles considered included:

“The BEE” (Tindalos’ suggestion)

“The BEE Within”

“The REEEE Within”

“SHIT” (Gitaxian’s suggestion)

“IM THE BEAST”

“AWWW SHIT” (Fear or Courage’s suggestion)

“AW SHIT ITS THE BEAST”

None of these resonated. Then, almost a whole month later, out of nowhere:

This was the entirety of Daniel111111222222’s contribution to the story - and what a contribution it was.

There were several reasons why I loved his idea. Firstly, it was easy to edit: most of the other suggestions would’ve required me to move lots of letters around, while this one would simply require me to append a few. More importantly, it felt like the title of a Chuck Tingle novel.

The subtitle for the second part - “No Pants” - seemed like a natural choice after that, the idea being that it evokes Grimlock’s inhibitions falling away with his transformation into the Beast. It narrowly edged out “Pants Off”, which I managed to squeeze into the final version of the introduction.

The parentheses in the comic’s title were my own addition, and in retrospect I kinda regret them. They seemed like a good idea at the time, but I’m not sure why. I was wrong to try and improve upon perfection.

IX. Why Throw Away Your Life So Recklessly

So far, the bulk of this commentary has mostly focused on the aspects of this project which I think went pretty well. In a way, that's probably fair enough, because - on balance - I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

At the same time, I can't help feeling that “PASS” - a comic which I probably threw together in the space of one day two years ago - is both funnier and more meaningful than the one which I spent a couple of weeks on.

When I started working on “The Beast Within (My Pants)” towards the beginning of May, I expected to have the project finished and out of the door by the end of the month. If you glance at the release dates of the various things I made, you'll see that I like to put out major projects on the last day of a month - it's a way of setting myself a deadline and it lets me associate a given project with a given period of time.

My first draft of the dialogue was released to prereaders on the 11th of May; my second on the 13th. Around that point, exam season started to kick in and I decided to prioritise to other projects - the Retrace Steps commentary and the Are You Happy retrospective - which both ballooned out into much longer pieces than I'd planned. I successfully met my self-imposed deadline for those projects and pushed back the release date for the comic to the end of June. I released the first drafts of the text-only pages on the 9th, but the profiles didn't follow until the 24th. By the time you read this, I'll have been working on the project on-and-off for over three months; despite the fact that I was ostensibly on vacation for most of that time, I was somehow busier than I tend to be at university.

For context, it took me just four months to adapt Retrace Steps from a short film script to a webcomic (well, “webcomic”), and that was a process which actually required original artwork. At the time I noted that I needed to re-evaluate the way I approached commentaries, as the amount of time required to produce one of a high standard seemed only to increase - they're extremely valuable to me, and seem to be well-received by the few who read them, but are they justifiable if they take longer to create than the things they comment on?

All of this is my long-winded way of saying that I've probably spent more time thinking about The Beast Within than the vast majority of people who know about it, and that I kinda regret that. See, in the sense that The Beast Within provokes a visceral emotional reaction, it’s a “good comic” - but so too does a punch to the face. The Beast Within is not a good comic. It’s mean and deconstructive and poorly-done. My version is borne of contrarianism and hubris, and softens the blow not one bit.

At the time when I was writing Grimlock's dialogue, I found that my own typing style was becoming increasingly acidic.

The truth is that “PASS” is probably the most successful thing I have ever made, and I wanted to make a comic which would put it to shame, and I failed miserably. In fact, I feel like I’ve made something which only I could ever enjoy. It’s derivative in the extreme. As my deadline for this project drew closer, I resorted to drafting bits of the commentary on my phone in public, and at one point somebody idly asked me what I was writing, and - after failing to think of a convincing lie - I said something along the lines of “it’s kinda a long story, and I wouldn’t enjoy telling it, and you wouldn’t enjoy hearing about it”. They seemed perfectly satisfied by that answer, but I wasn’t.

Must we justify the things we create? Mr. Jamieson’s attitude seemed to be to say “screw you, I don’t have to justify myself to stupid people” (while pointing at everybody else in the room). My attitude, as evinced by this commentary, has been to justify every aspect of everything I make in excruciating detail, so that if you tell me “I don’t like X” I can say “I already explained why I thought X was a good idea” and you can say “well you were wrong” and I can say “maybe”.

You’ve probably twigged that, throughout this commentary, I’ve referred to the creators of The Beast Within only by second name. At first, perhaps, it came across as some mark of mocking respect - like citing a scientific source - but the real reason is cowardice, not confidence. Some people occasionally put their own names into Google. There’s a couple of people to whom I really don’t want to have to justify myself.

Over a decade after the release of the The Beast Within, Hasbro released a brand new set of Dinobot toys which combined to form Volcanicus. The creators of the Prime Wars Trilogy and of the Earth Wars mobile game gleefully included the new combiner in their stories, and the fandom at large embraced it wholeheartedly.

As her thread drew to a close, Terry van Feleday wrote something which I think about often:

Of course [...] let’s not forget that no matter the amount of earnest work put into something, sometimes it just turns out shit. There’s a strange perception I noticed in critical response where people seem to find it difficult to consider something both earnest or satirical and, well, not very well made. Sucker Punch can’t be an honest indictment of cinematic objectification and a somewhat poorly conceived, almost hypocritical attempt at being more clever than you should. Transformers can’t be an inversion of the traditional hero/villain narrative showcasing the effects of authoritarian propaganda and a meandering, under-focused, often poorly communicated, destructive mess. Maybe it’s a strange entertainment-version of the Just World Fallacy where lacking results must necessarily result from lacking effort, or maybe it’s modern audiences’ strange worship of subversiveness, where a work critical of old tropes must by default be better than the works it’s commenting on throwing to the dustbin of history, but either way, people are extremely resistant to the idea that films they found emotionally dissatisfying could express depth and meaning and tend to dismiss them as another ‘genre film’.

Mr. Gibson is a children’s picture book illustrator. The Beast has no place on his website.

X. Proceed On Your Way To Oblivion

TFNation - the UK’s biggest Transformers convention - has become something of an annual pilgrimage for me, and (as of the time of writing) I’ll be making that pilgrimage in a matter of days. If you see me there, feel free to come over and punch me. Or, y’know, just say hi. I’ll have some limited-edition printed copies of “PASS” to give out. For more information on that - and for infrequent Transformers-related musings and updates on future projects - wander on over to my twitter!

What are those future projects? Well, after the convention I’m planning to release an original short story. It’s not very good, but it’s got a few stylistic similarities to this comic (read: lots of swearing). I might have a little bit in the way of Transformers prose coming out down the line, but can’t really elaborate further on the form that’ll take. I’ve been planning to get back to Huskyquest for ages, and hopefully I’ll finally be able to do so once I settle back down at university. After that, I plan to focus my efforts on prose, so you may as well expect more radio silence from me.

If you’ve made it to the end of this almost-fifteen-thousand-word monstrosity, you, uhh... win all my internet points? Sorry, that’s all I have.

Remind me never to do this again.

#Transformers #comics #The Beast Within #The Beast Within (My Pants)#The Wadapan #14/08/2019

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blueyesandleatherjacket · 4 years

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The Fallen, 2/17

Volume: 1.

Number of parts: 2/17.

Pairings: Nine x Rose.

A/N: Written for Whumptober. Human Shield (D4), Dragged Away (D6). Tagging @thebookster on her demand.

“We've all fallen, but at the same time we're not broken. There is the hint that we are going to get up again.” - Amy Lee.

CHAPTER 2:

“Who are you?” It was laughable how this question was always coming back to him in whatever life he was living. Laughable how different the species of the universe could be, and yet how identical they were. They hated the emptiness, the unexplained. They need to name things, to name people. That was an obsession, a necessity. He had given many answers to this question. Many lies and many truths for many reasons. The only reason he had to lie today was for his safety. He didn’t like the place, didn’t like the staff. He was distrustful. There was an atmosphere here that he would qualify of unhealthy though he couldn’t quite identify why it made him so uneasy. “I’m the Doctor. What about you?” “Doctor who?” “Ding ding ding, we have a winner for the jackpot.” This joke never got old and never failed to make him laugh. The person in front of him didn’t find him any funny though. He was only worsening his current condition. They already thought he was crazy. He couldn’t deny it. When he had woken up after fainting in that street, he was in a tiny room with cracked white paint. He was laying in an old bed that was grating every time he moved. By his right, there was a small window with bars and a blind partially shut. Under that window, there was a small wonky table. There were two doors. One was facing the window, the other was facing the bed. One was locked, the other was leading to a bathroom barely large enough for a shower booth, a sink and toilets. He was stuck in this room for as long as whoever locked him here would want to keep him. With a sonic screwdriver, he might have been able to get out. But he had nothing. Not even a shoelace. That’s how he had understood where he was. A mental hospital. Not a surprise. Later that day, a nurse had come in and he had followed her obediently. He had been introduced in the office of a certain doctor Nash Grieve. His therapist. He had sat down and listened o her as she explained to him that he had been found babbling incoherent things in the streets. The police had brought him here. He had been so defeated that day, so down to have failed that he accepted to be locked in this building until he was better. The medical staff was coming to him every now and then to check on him. He wouldn’t be out of bed. Sometimes, they would sit down and talk to him for a couple minutes. He would say nothing, just stare at the ceiling as if it was holding the answers to his questions. He would follow the group he was assigned to when it was time to eat. All of this for a full week and now, he was back in this office and playing dumb in front of the doctor Grieve. But the feeling if uneasiness he was feeling in this place gave him the strong urge to run away. Which he couldn’t. “You looked better than a couple days ago.” “I’m feeling better. Your staff has taken great care of me.” “They are concerned about you.” “Why’s that? I don’t cause troubles.” “Indeed you don’t.” The doctor Grieve leant back in her chair and crossed her hands on her stomach. She fixed him silently for a moment. It was making him more uncomfortable than he already was. This woman wasn’t impressive though. She maybe was in her fifties with dark brown hair turning to grey on her roots and temples. She was thick-set but not fat. There was something motherly about her. She couldn’t be a bad woman. So why was he detecting something wrong in here? “They gave me the police report of that night.” He gave a nod. It had been mentioned already. He remembered facing a police officer and losing it but he didn’t remember what he was saying. Something that had caught their attention. Something that was justifying his presence here. But he was better, so it would be logical to let him go. Which wasn’t gonna happen. If the medical staff had concerns about him, they would keep him in this hospital to be sure he wasn’t a danger for anyone, himself included. “The blood test they ran on you showed that you were negative to drugs and alcohol. Yet, you were babbling about something being in your head and in someone else’s head. A woman named Rose. You’ve added: ‘I need the Doctor. The Bad Wolf isn’t gone’.” “Oh. I see. That’s embarrassing.” He had done this dream numerous times these past days. It wasn’t really a dream. It was a memory. He remembered it fully now: he had kissed Rose Tyler on Satellite 5 to take the Bad Wolf out of her head and save her. That was the original plan. And it had gone wrong. Really, really wrong. He hadn’t felt it immediately. That was only when he woke up in the middle of that street in Manchester that things had appeared clearly to him and from that moment, he had known that he had to get to Rose to the new Doctor and tell them about the situation. However, he couldn’t get to Rose – thanks to Jackie who probably hated him more than ever now – and the Doctor hadn’t seemed to catch any of his distress calls. Or he was deliberately ignoring them. For once, he would be following the rules. Wasn’t it ironic? There was an unspoken rule in the Time Lords’ community, an unspoken story. They were keeping these hidden because of the shame these superior beings had toward this part of them. The Doctor was called a thief for stealing a type 40 TARDIS, but the truth was that all Time Lord were thieves. They were born with one face and were stealing the eleven others among people they met in their long lives, and when they were regenerating, the face they had taken was sent back to its previous life without any memories of being a Time Lord or Lady for many years. That was why there were so many missing persons, especially on Earth. Humans shapes were easier to steal, made it easier to fit in in the universe with how far they had spread their territory. And they didn’t suspect anything when they came back on Earth. This face belonged to a man named Maxence Spitz. When the Doctor had come across him, he was a young man going through a hard time. He had just lost his best friend and was falling into a dark circle of depression. He made friends with the teenager and kept him in mind when he left. When he had stolen his face, Maxence was in his thirties and was struggling to find a job. He had done lots of small jobs but couldn’t find a career of his own. The Doctor had given him the stars and a heavy weight to carry on his shoulders. He should have forgotten about all of this when he sacrificed himself for Rose. It was underestimating the Bad Wolf. The entity split in three. A part of it went back to the TARDIS, the two others remained stuck in the two humans’ minds. That was a really problematic. His instincts were warning him that telling his real name to this woman wasn’t a good idea. It would be used against him, against his family. He would never let anything happen to his mother and brother, especially with the power now sleeping in his head. He would stick to the Doctor for now, even if that meant staying here for a little longer. He had to contact his family so they could come and see him, and hopefully free him from this hospital. He wouldn’t get out on his own. “What’s embarrassing?” “This is a trouble I’ve developed when I was a little boy. I had night terrors and was sleepwalking in time of great anxiety. I was never really diagnosed. Mom and I both knew what was causing them.” It was a lie though it really could have happened to him. His youth hadn’t been one of the best. He shouldn’t be able to remember because of how young he was back then, but he did. There were the cries, and the yells, and the pain. Sometimes, they were coming back to him. But he hadn’t heard them in years. Not the ones of that night. Instead, he had heard the screams haunting the Doctor’s dream and he was forever stuck with them now. There were more pleasant memories thankfully. He would cherish them. “Alright.” The doctor Grieve didn’t seem entirely convinced with his explanation but she was accepting it anyway and adding it to the file. His file. He had a medical record in a psychiatric hospital. He would have laughed if he had been able to. It was useless to worsen the situation even more. “Who’s Rose?” “My ex-girlfriend. She had just dumped me when the police found me. Her mother kicked me out and I was so stunned that I sat down in a corner and cried. Must have fallen asleep after that.” “What’s your name?” “Why do you want to know my name?” “What don’t you want to give me your name?” “I prefer staying anonymous. Let’s stick to ‘the Doctor’ please.” “You’re not making things easy for yourself, you know.” “Yes, I know.” “Enough with bollocks!” Both the doctor Grieve and the Doctor jumped in surprise when the voice raised out of nowhere. The door was opened with violence and an angry man came. The therapist held herself back from sighing and rolling her eyes upon seeing him while the Doctor froze and stared. It is impossible… And yet, it was. Jeremy Backfire, his father, was standing there, in the threshold. The Wolf felt the confusion and fear and rage rising in its host and feed on it to get some strength back. It hadn’t been in control in the last few days, hadn’t showed up because it wanted him out of this hospital. That wouldn’t happen if it was being visible. Plus, it had been considerably weakened with the loads of energy it spent with his arrival on Earth and his attempt to get to Rose but its host’s negative emotions and the evil aura coming from this newcomer was giving him new strengths and enabled him to rise again. The Doctor got up so fast that it sent the chair to the floor with a loud noise. His eyes had that bright golden glow again. The Wolf was there but he still had control. It didn’t have enough power. It was still channelling, absorbing. It would come out at the right time hopefully. “There you are,” exulted Jeremy. He turned to Nash, totally unimpressed by the power his son was spreading in the room. “His real name’s Maxence Spitz. He told you the truth about being the Doctor. What you’re witnessing now is the Doctor teaming up with the powerful entity called Bad Wolf.” Contrarily to Jeremy, Nash was clearly impressed and pretty scared by what she was seeing. An order was given: The Doctor had to be mastered and taken to an isolated cell. Nurses came in. They obviously had been waiting for this order to come. The doctor Grieve didn’t agree with these methods. Jeremy Backfire was her boss. He owned the place and she certainly had nothing to say to him about his way of ruling the place. But this man, Maxence Spitz or the Doctor… whatever he was called, was her patient. It was her duty to protect him and she couldn’t have him thrown into an isolation cell just because she was asked to. She was about to place herself in front of Maxence to stand in the way of the newcomers when the man she was trying to defend moved. He was so swift that she only saw a trail of golden light and then, he was holding one of the nurses with an armlock in her back and was threatening to kill her if Jeremy wasn’t going away. He was using that poor innocent as a human shield. If it had been Nash, it would have worked. But Jeremy only smirked. The Wolf broke the neck of the poor woman and let her body fall to the ground like a puppet. The other nurses stepped back. So did Nash. She was genuinely terrified now. “You won’t have him,” growled the Wolf. “I won’t let you.” Maxence Spitz was his host now and the entity would protect him until his death. Which hopefully wouldn’t happen anytime soon. They needed the Doctor to fix this mistake he had made, but he was turning a deaf ear. So Maxence and the Wolf had to team up to survive and protect themselves. “Take him away. Now.” The voice was firm. The order was clear. The Wolf wasn’t strong enough at the moment to deal with four nurses and a mad director. It faded away in the middle of the struggle and Maxence was abandoned to the hands of medical people that were dragging him away. Nash tried to protest but Jeremy wouldn’t change his mind. This patient was his now.

To be continued...

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#doctor who #ninth doctor #rose tyler #bad wolf #doctor x rose #dw fic #the fallen

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hippychick006 · 5 years

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14.18 - Absence Recap

I’m putting this recap under a cut. I’ve tried to cut it down, but nope, I have a lot to say about this episode. It’s highly critical so if you are a fan of Dabbernatural, you most definitely want to keep moving down your dash. Nothing to see here, the show is absolutely wonderful, carry on with your day...

Note, if I talk about Dabb’s writing, I mean him being in overall charge of the quality of writing as show runner, even though another writer might have written the episode I’m criticising. I’m not fully blaming the writers because they have no clear direction with Dabb as showrunner.

Positives are the brother moments, though I definitely felt that Jared and Jensen were struggling a little to find the emotion in this episode – which contrasts with the emotion of episodes like Lebanon where it came more naturally. Rowena is always a positive addition to an episode, and even though I talk about Jack being over utilised in my post, I still love my nougat eating Nephilim. Can we keep him and just send him off to Stanford and have him back for the holidays?

I’m struggling with the show right now. My mind is “helpfully” supplying that we have 22 episodes and counting until there’s no more new Sam and Dean content, and episodes like this, that are so far beneath the - admittedly high - bar set by Kripke are just depressing to watch. I’ve made no secret that Dabb is the worst showrunner to ever happen to Supernatural (I would have said any show, but I mistakenly started to watch Quantico a few weeks ago, so he’s been elevated recently). Even by Dabb’s standards though, this episode is epically bad. And it’s bad for so many reasons.

I had a quick look back at Dabb’s writing to see if he’s perhaps a better writer than a showrunner. IMO, he’s had more misses than hits since joining the show in Season 4. Hits include: Yellow Fever, Dark side of the Moon, Red Meat and Lebanon (though I wouldn’t put Lebanon in the league of the other 3 personally, it was a great Season 14 episode, but stacked up against others, it falls down the list). Misses include 2 failed pilots: Bloodlines and Wayward sisters, plus many others. He’s capable of good writing obviously, I just believe he’s lazy and tries to please the online fandom too much, completely forgetting that fandom is an incredibly small part of the overall viewing audience. He should write for the story first and foremost, only giving the odd nod to fandom, not allowing it to completely overtake – and in my opinion - completely ruin the story being told.

As showrunner, he’s started and dropped many plot lines (several of them running at the same time so you experience whip lash while viewing). He kills characters for shock value and brought long dead characters back for the same reasons. He’s then proceeded to butcher those characters (or ruin their earlier arc) until they are unrecognisable from the characters you loved. He steals plot lines and ruins them, his dialogue includes ridiculous levels of pandering. The show has too much drama, people constantly dying and there’s no fun anymore. When they try to do funny, it just falls flat, because they can’t write comedy in the same way as someone like Ben Edlund.

His biggest missteps though have been the forced pushing of “found family” onto a general audience that was watching the show for the unique bond between the siblings. Making Supernatural about “family” is just making Supernatural the same as every other show out there. The bond between the brothers is actually what made the show unique and special. Now it isn’t any more and the magic it had has been, not lost entirely, but heavily watered down under Dabb’s incompetence.

His other misstep has been too much focus on other characters that are not Sam or Dean. Seriously, I’m one of the people that likes Jack, but he’s had far too much focus this season (almost like they’re making a lame, last ditch attempt to try to get a character worth a spin off for this show). No longer whispers into the void but screams until I’m hoarse: PEOPLE ARE WATCHING FOR SAM AND DEAN YOU DUMBASS HACK, FUCKING WRITE WITH THEM AS THE CENTRE OF YOUR FOCUS AND NOT REDUCE THEM TO PRETTY FURNITURE!

For those of you that might come back with “But J2 want time off…” I acknowledge this, but I’ll come right back and point out that J2 are in the episodes, it’s just not about them and that is the problem, not the time off. As mentioned, I loved Jack in Season 13, now I don’t really care about him because he’s had too much of the story be about him, as if he’s the protagonist of the show and not Sam and Dean.

Anyway, on to the episode.

We recap on Mary badgering Jack and watching it again annoyed me just as much as the episode last week. Definitely slapped in the face with the stupid stick. When someone is out of control, you humour them and give them space. You don’t constantly badger them, making things worse – particularly if you witnessed said being lose control and charbroil to death another human (a very bad, murdery human, but still a human). And I don’t actually blame Mary, it’s simply bad writing, because if you want something to happen to get to the position you want to be in, write it better. Don’t make a character suddenly stupid in order to achieve it. Unfortunately, as I mentioned on another post, Dabb is a very lazy writer. He wants to get to point B and doesn’t care how stupid he makes his characters in order to get there.

Sam and Dean arrive home, immediately calling for ‘mom’ and ‘Jack’. Sam looks longer than Dean who is already sitting down with a beer when Sam returns from searching the bunker. They share a toast to “another miraculous Sam Winchester survival.” Dean: “Gotta say man, if Jack hadn’t have healed you…” Dean trails off and I try not to think of the consequences, particularly with how devastated Dean was during the few seconds he lost Sammy yet again. Dean reflects they’d be “up the creek without that kid.”

Jack’s all right as long as he’s saving Sammy and killing bad guys. Got it.

Dean brings his phone out to try mom’s cell. Sam brings his own phone out, presumably to try Jack. When Dean connects to Mary’s cell, they hear a buzzing and see Mary’s bag with her cell phone and keys on the other end of the map table. Both start to get a little worried.

Sam says he’ll try Jack. We switch to Jack and hear the phone ringing, but he doesn’t answer. He seems to be in shock.

Fast forward an indeterminate time and our boys have tried everyone; Jody, Donna, Charlie, Bobby, Rowena. Nada from most of them, but Rowena is a little more helpful and might have a spell that can track Jack and Mary down. Just as I’m wondering if Castiel was on their list, Dean’s phone rings, Sam looks hopefully at Dean (that it’s either Jack or Mary) but Dean shakes his head. He answers the phone without putting it on speaker and it is indeed Castiel, who got Dean’s message that Nick was trying to raise Lucifer. Dean updates Castiel that “the kid” says he took care of him, and they are just trying to find him and Mary at the moment. Castiel: “Are they together?” Dean: “Yeah.” Castiel: “Alone?” Dean’s got no idea what Castiel is on about, he answers that yes, they are together, alone. Sam is only hearing one side of the conversation and wants to know what Cass is saying. I have no idea why Dean doesn’t put the phone on speaker (I am however 100% certain it has nothing to do with non-existent Destiel), it just seems weird not to put it on speaker as they normally would, and there’s no obvious reason not to do so. Dean knows Castiel is holding something back and says, “If you’ve got something to tell us, now is the time.” Castiel explains about Jack using his powers to kill Felix the snake. “I was gonna tell you but…”

Urgh, how many times must we suffer through this? This is Castiel’s role on the show: try to fix a problem without telling Sam and Dean, because he doesn’t want to worry them. It leads to something bad happening. They find out, Dean is angry and wants no more to do with him, while Sam defends Castiel. Rinse and repeat. It’s manufactured drama and it’s bad writing, because if you are a decent writer, you can get drama within an episode without this. And the thing is, Dabb wrote Red Meat, loads of drama in that episode, none of it manufactured, so he can do it. Baby, Regarding Dean are other examples from recent years. Not a single one of these had manufactured drama, all absolutely fantastic episodes.

Castiel tells Dean he doesn’t think Jack is well. Dean puts the phone down on him. And thousands of anti Cass fans rejoice, and we will enjoy our few seconds of rejoicing even knowing that Sammy will at some point (probably this episode) vouch for Castiel as he has done many times in the past (undeservingly so imo – how many times is Sam going to say ‘it’s Cass’ before he stops getting a free pass and changes his behaviour?)

Dean brings Sam up to speed about Jack, and Sam has an idea for finding him. He uses the “find phone” app to discover Jack is in Nepal. As they watch, Jack suddenly jumps to Lima, Peru. Sam makes the genius (not really) observation that Jack must be flying. They watch as Jack jumps again to Paris, France, and then Madagascar. Dean: “What the hell is he doing?”

It’s night and we hear a flap of wings and Jack slumps onto the ground. He stumbles to get up, then checks his phone, he has 10 missed calls, 7 voicemails, and several missed texts, all from Sam, Dean and Castiel. Interestingly, the most communication is from Dean, but I headcanon that a large part of that is Dean leaving messages: “Where the hell are you, Sammy’s worried sick!”

We see a flashback between Jack and Mary where Mary says what he did was amazing (in dealing with one of the AU angels – can’t remember which one – Zachariah I think, but he was wearing a different meat suit than normal). The flashback ends and we see something appear in the dark behind Jack. It’s Nick, though it’s not Nick. His eyes flash red and I worry for a second that Lucifer is actually back, but no, he’s Jack’s sub-conscious. Taps chin in puzzlement. Where have we seen a similar storyline before, with this exact same character, hmmm?

Nick tells Jack that he can’t come back from killing Mary. Jack: “It was an accident!” Nick: “Okay, tell Sam and Dean that, I’m sure they’ll understand, it’s not like family isn’t everything to them.” Jack zaps Nick, telling him to shut up.

Oh, if only it were that easy, kiddo.

Sam and Dean are driving to somewhere – presumably still tracking Jack’s cell phone signal. Sam tells Dean that Cass is going to meet them there. Dean doesn’t answer. Sam tries to defend Jack, saying that maybe he wasn’t able to stop Nick from raising Lucifer and Lucifer took them both… “and Jack, he must have thought he was helping, you know, being kind.”

Dean (and me, puzzled): What?

Sam: With Felix.

Dean (annoyed): “Really, with the snake?”

Sam: I’m just saying, Dean, I’m trying to understand Jack without a soul

Dean (very annoyed now): We don’t know that he doesn’t have a soul! Okay, I don’t wanna… let’s… let’s not talk about it, all right... let’s just find mom, find Jack and we’ll figure it all out.”

Sam’s tablet indicates they’ve lost Jack’s signal, but they still head to where Jack was last, which is the cabin where Nick was killed. Very dramatic music as they head in there. The music is another thing that has annoyed me this season, it overpowers scenes rather than compliments them, it’s very distracting. Please stop it, because I’m not three years old and can understand perfectly well when I’m supposed to find something dramatic and when I’m not.

Sam looks inside the cabin, while Dean looks outside. Sam therefore is the one to come across Nick’s body. He shouts for Dean who doesn’t hear him (though last week heard him perfectly well from quite a distance). Dean comes across a spot outdoors which is covered in ash. He’s either just lucky he came across it, or he was tracking Jack and Mary’s path. Dean’s an outstanding hunter, let’s go with tracking. Sam soon joins him (also an outstanding hunter) and it’s clear they both seem to believe something bad happened at that spot.

Cass is in the car and he’s arrived at the cabin. He doesn’t go in. We see a flashback to where he was hunting with Mary. Jack having a flashback I understand, but Castiel has no reason to suspect that Mary is dead, only missing at this stage, so why is he having a flashback? Also, as other people have pointed out, this flashback of him hunting with her couldn’t have happened within the timeline. Lazy idiots that can’t keep track of the story! Upshot of their completely fake scene is that Castiel says he’s glad she’s back and that Sam and Dean are happy, “Finally they don’t have to be so alone.” Mary answers: “Castiel, they were never alone.” No, they weren’t Mary, because they always had each other and that’s all either of them needs. Other people are nice to have, but not necessary to eithers continued existence. Whispers: platonic soulmates.

Now, if Dabb meant that line to mean that they were never alone because they had Castiel, I look up the facts. Dean was 30 before Castiel dropped into their lives, he was 37 before Dabb started forcing him into the narrative as “family/brother” when in actual fact between the years of 30-37, he was rarely around, and they only called him when they wanted something. Over the last three years, he hasn’t exactly been a constant in their lives, no matter how much Dabb has tried to shoehorn him in to please the 1%ers at the expense of the general viewing audience and a decent storyline.

Moving on, Castiel finally gets out the car to go inside the cabin.

Sam covers Nick with a blanket. He’s worried. Dean tries to reassure Sam that they don’t know what happened, they don’t know what Nick did, he probably deserved it. Sam somewhat agrees Nick deserved it, but not in that way.

Sam updates Castiel on Nick and a “blast spot” behind the house that looks angelic, only bigger. Dean is turned away during this, giving Castiel the cold shoulder. He does chip in at one point though;

Dean: It might have been Lucifer, Nick was trying to bring him back

Sam: Yeah, but Jack said…

Dean: I don’t care what Jack said! We don’t know what happened, but I swear, if he did something to her, if she is…

Sam sighs and Dean turns to Castiel, “then you’re dead to me.”

Hold on, I need a moment.

“Then you’re dead to me.”

Sam: Dean…

Hold on another moment, while I speak to Sam in private about defending Castiel yet again. This is what I was afraid of, he always defends Castiel and Castiel is not learning anything. He makes the same mistakes over and over because he doesn’t deal with the consequences of his actions. Slaps Sam in the face with a parenting book that helped me enormously during the teenage years.

Dean: “No, he knew, he knew something was wrong with the kid, he knew it and he didn’t tell us. He didn’t even tell us!”

Sam says nothing (good, our little chat worked then).

Castiel: I was scared, I believed in Jack for so long, I... believed that he was good, I knew that he would be good for the world, he was good for us, my faith in him, it never wavered, and then I saw what he did. It wasn’t malice, it wasn’t evil, it was like Jack saw a problem and in his mind he just solved it with that snake…

Dean (angry): the snake? [he’s seriously getting annoyed that everyone keeps bringing up the snake]

Castiel (talking to Dean’s back): What he did wasn’t bad, it was the absence of good and I saw that in him, but we were a family (family mention alert for those of you playing dabbernatural bingo!) and I didn’t want to lose that, so I thought I could... fix it on my own, felt like it was my responsibility, so I left, and I didn’t tell you. If I could go back and just… just talk to him right then and there, I would, but I can’t Dean. I failed you and I failed Jack. And I failed…

Dean (turns around): No, no, Don’t even say it, don’t even say her name!

Dean steps towards Castiel, but Sam steps forward and puts his hand out with a quiet “Dean.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel during this scene. Sad, I presume? I just feel pissed that we are having to suffer through incredibly bad writing that has Castiel screwing up yet again, by going off on his own, yet again, and I’m going to have to suffer through some more puke inducing dialogue at some stage in the very near future that will have Dean apologising and all will be right with the world. Totally fed up with Castiel being used as nothing more than a plot point, I don’t even like the character, but no one deserves that. Bad, lazy writing that shows he has no purpose to the show and that he no longer fits and hasn’t for a long time.

Sam’s phone rings, it’s Rowena and at least Sam knows how his speakerphone works. Sam’s really upset as he answers. Rowena updates that she’s tried to find Jack, but his energy is too unstable. Sam: “And mom?” We see Rowena close her eyes and not answer. Dean orders: “Say it” and Rowena says, “I don’t know what happened, or where she is, but I can tell you with certainty, Mary Winchester is no longer on this earth”

Dean closes his eyes, we switch to Sam and then Castiel (rolls eyes because getting his reaction is pandering, because sure, let’s not waste footage by focusing on the two that are actually her sons). We get a minute of watching Sam and Dean, and can I just say how brilliant these two are. I mean I have no feelings at all towards Mary, Dabb completely screwed over her character and did nothing to make me care about her in any way, so I don’t feel anything towards her. But I do feel for Sam and Dean here, but only because of Jared and Jensen’s acting in this scene.

Dean’s quiet for a few seconds, then he breaks a chair. Sam flinches as he does with loud noises and someone needs to get my poor baby some help for that PTSD he’s been carrying around for the last few years.

Sam (to Dean): So, what do we do?

This isn’t Sam Winchester, the hunter, this is Sam Winchester, the little brother, looking to his big brother to have some answers, because he’s completely lost.

Dean: What we always do when we lose one of our own, we fight, we fight to bring them back.

Wait, what? Seriously? Are we retconning that narrative now too? I’m starting to suspect that Dabb hates the special bond and his personal mission has been to break it. Kripke we need you back, stat!!!! An untalented petty little man is ruining your legacy!

Sam asks “How… Billie? Dean says Rowena, she’s got the book of the damned and can resurrect Mary. Cass says they don’t even know where your mother is.

Dean (angry): Then go to heaven and find her!

In direct contrast to Mary last week, Sam knows how to deal with someone on edge. He knows when to keep quiet and he does as Dean walks out, telling Sam to tell Rowena that they are on their way.

Rowena is working on something when the boys arrive. But it’s not the boys, its Jack. He admits he killed Mary, but it was an accident. He asks for her help, but Rowena says the magic she uses on herself, only works if it’s prepared in advance (i.e. before death). Jack asks about the book. Rowena says there is a spell, and starts to talk about it, but when Sam and Dean arrive, Jack realises that Rowena has been stalling. Jack disappears with Rowena, just as Sam kicks down the door – which was hot by the way.

Castiel is at the children’s sandpit that leads to heaven. No one is guarding it, he calls for Naomi.

Jack and Rowena appear in the bunker, Jack passes an area on the wood floor which has marks on it. He has a flashback which shows a knife being thrown into the floor. Mary is teaching him knife skills. He keeps dropping the knife, Mary tells him he’s doing well though. Jack says when they get Dean back, Dean is going to kill him (for the holes in the bunker floor). Mary pulls the table over to cover the marks and says, “For what?”

This is a cute moment, and this is another thing I hate about Dabb. The writers are capable of writing characters, they just choose not to do it until they need to go for a cheap moment like Mary dying. It’s just bad writing. If they had done their job properly, all of these would have been real flash backs to real moments and we would all be genuinely sad (or kind of sad, given that Dabb has also ruined the meaning of death).

We see Sam arrive and he hangs back until Jack leaves, which concerns me that he’s avoiding Jack. Also, Bearded!Sam alert – when was this filmed?! He asks Mary how Jack’s training is going. He tells her he feels bad as he doesn’t feel he’s been there for Jack since he’s been so busy looking for Dean. Sam apologises for laying his problems on her. Mary: “No, are you kidding, it’s nice knowing I’m not the only one. [Sam frowns] with parental guilt.” She tells him that parenting is always a struggle, you always feel like you are failing, then you look at them and somehow, they’re amazing, somehow they’re literally… [Mary grabs Sam’s chin because he looked away]… the bravest, kindest, most heroic men on the planet.

Right, as I mentioned a few minutes ago, if this had been a real flashback, and death hadn’t been cheapened by Dabb, I’d have been very upset right about now if this had been the version that Mary had been allowed to develop into. Where tf was this when we were getting the crap we’ve been getting? As it is, I feel nothing – actually not true, I feel very angry at how crap Dabb is and what he’s done to my show.

Actually, the one bit I liked about this, which I mentioned in a separate post, was the flashback that Jack was having led into the flashback that Sam is having, and I like that transition between them.

Anyway, back at Rowena’s and Dean’s still angry. Jack’s got Rowena and the Book of the Damned and they’ve got no way of keeping up with Jack when he’s got wings. Sam’s a good brother and stays quiet, just letting Dean get it off his chest.

Dean is still pissed at Cass and says he should have told them as soon as he saw Jack go all… (no idea what he says here) … on a stupid freaking snake.

Sam is a good brother and stays quiet, just letting Dean get it off his chest.

Sadly no, that’s not what happened. Sam once again defends Castiel, saying it wasn’t just him. That they also knew that Jack was dangerous, they always knew. “You more than anyone, I mean from the very beginning you knew…”

Oh, so we’re going down that route now? The route that has to end with Dean always being right and everyone else being wrong. I thought we’d moved on from that, but okay, no.

Hammering my keyboard, we move on as Sam continues, “But you know we fell for him because he had a good heart, and a good soul… then he didn’t… And that’s on me too, by the way. I mean I’m the one who made the call to bring him back. He didn’t ask for that, I decided for him. And you warned me.”

Dean: You didn’t know, okay… we didn’t know.

Sam: Exactly, we didn’t know, but… he’d become our family (I’m losing count, is this the second or third mention of family in a single episode?)

Sam: You know, after Maggie and the other hunters…died, I just left, just… dumped Jack on Cass and left. I knew, I mean I knew something… was gonna… I just didn’t know it would be this.

I think Sam looks at Dean here, expecting him to explode at him, the same way he did Castiel earlier, but Dean doesn’t. He admits that he did too and it’s a nice moment between them.

Back to Rowena and Jack. Jack’s impatient for the spell. Rowena says the ingredients are simple but need to be compounded precisely. She tells Jack she could have fought him back at her flat. Jack doesn’t ask the obvious question “flat?” which disappoints me. I think she’s starting to get through to Jack, but Nick hallucination appears and he’s as annoying as Lucifer with the constant badgering. He tells Jack that trying to bring Mary back isn’t going to work. Rowena notices there’s something wrong with Jack (looking and talking to something imaginary), but she finishes the spell ingredients. Jack tells Nick to shut up, then asks Rowena if the spell is finished. Rowena tells him it is, but they need the last thing, which is Mary’s body.

Back to Castiel – I’d forgotten about him – he’s still at the sandpit, calling for Naomi. He refuses to go anywhere until he speaks to her. Duma appears and she’s one of my favourite angels after Zachariah, because like him, she tells it how it is, and I appreciate the honesty. Duma tells him that Mary Winchester is happy, she’s in heaven, a “special” heaven. (me: oh fuck, here we go, Dabb will retcon Sam and Dean’s soulmate heaven as a final fuck you to the brother fans). “Mary Winchester is complete. You and the Winchesters may not be, but she is.” (hmmm, not sure about this line).

Jack takes Rowena to Mary’s “body”, which is a pile of ash. She tells him she can’t make it work. Because Rowena can’t help him, Jack shoves her back to her “flat.” I think that’s a little progress over the previous episode since he didn’t flame grill her.

Rowena is pissed, she calls Sam and Dean to tell them they need to stop Jack as she fears he’ll bring something terrible back instead of Mary.

Jack gathers some ash to perform the ritual. He’s part way through when he sees the Impala approach. He uses his powers to stall the car. Unfortunately for him, Sam and Dean are within running distance of the cabin. The spell finishes and Mary’s body is returned, just as Sam and Dean arrive.

Jack looks devastated as he tells them it didn’t work. We hear the flap of wings and he’s disappeared. Dean runs to Mary as Sam approaches more slowly. Dramatic music as Sam kneels down beside Dean. We see Dean’s flashback in the car with Mary and at first I thought it was a poxy flashback compared with everyone else, but then I remember this is Dean’s flashback, this is what made Dean happy, this is what Dean has always wanted, his family (Sam, Mary and John) around him. That’s what his one wish with the pearl was. This is why it annoys me when I read meta that Dean’s arc is to realise he’s sacrificed his life and he’s going to stop doing that (i.e. let Sam die) and go live his happy life with the angel. No, that isn’t who Dean is, Sam has never been an obligation or a job to Dean, Dean’s face shines when he’s taking care of his family, that’s what brings him enjoyment and we see that in this scene with Mary, just having her in his life brings him joy.

I like how Sam is comforting Dean in this scene. This is what siblings do, in that moment Dean needed Sam more than Sam needed Dean and Sam steps up and provides it, even though he too is grieving.

Jack’s on his own, but not for long. Hallucination Nick is by his side, telling him that there’s no going back. Castiel, Sam and Dean will never trust him again. He tells Jack: “You can never trust them.” Which given the dramatic music, is an anvil for an upcoming episode.

Sam’s looking through family pictures when Castiel arrives. He tells Sam that Mary is in heaven and that she’s at peace. Dean arrived at the tail end of the conversation but stays off to the side. Castiel tells them that he saw Mary’s heaven and she’s happy. (I like the 2 dates on the door, someone has already made a joke about Dean and Sam’s doors. Like what on earth was Dean’s door like during Mystery Spot?)

Question for Castiel, if Mary is with John, then why is his name not on the door or does he have his own door that interconnects with Mary’s room?

He tells them Mary is with John, that there’s no sorrow or guilt, just joy.

Sam tells Castiel and Dean that Rowena thinks Jack just brought back a shell, a replica, incapable of holding life. Sam asks once again, what are they supposed to do now.

Dean: What we always do.

Sam closes his eyes, he knows what Dean’s talking about.

Now, if I was a shipper, desperate for proving my ship, I’d point out the clear separation between Dean and that of Castiel and Sam in this scene. Sastiel for the win, and once again, you guys totally deserve it.

What they always do turns out to be a lot more accurate this time. They’ve built a funeral pyre to burn the fake body. I don’t understand why Castiel is there, I personally think it was just a moment for Sam and Dean, but Dabb is intent on ruining the show entirely, pushing Castiel into everything, even though he can’t feel a fraction for Mary that Sam and Dean do. He’s just awkwardly standing there.

Sam steps up to put a picture on the pyre. We get some more flashbacks of Mary again and I’m feeling… well I’m still feeling absolutely nothing but anger at Dabb to be honest.

Castiel looks at Dean and makes a move to go to him, but Sam puts his arm out, very clearly “You go near my brother and I’ll kill you.” Not really, but he does stop Castiel and tries to smile in reassurance, kind of “give him time.”

Dean is once again kind of standing on his own in this scene, with Castiel and Sam slightly off to the side.

That’s it. That’s the end of this episode!

I wish!

Because we go back to the bunker and the camera glides over the table and MW initials have been added to that of Sam and Dean, and seriously fuck you Dabb. Fuck you for taking everything that was amazing and special about the unique bond between the brothers and what those initials mean, and crapping all over it. Others disagree, but that’s fine.

Onwards to the next episode where I think Sam will have to choose between Dean and Jack. Kind of like Season 4, where he was forced to choose between Dean and Ruby, even though he wanted both. Maybe he’ll get both this time around and Jack won’t be evil?

I’ll finish with this line from Dean to Sam in next weeks promo: “We need to stop Jack... but here’s the deal, we’ve both got to sign off on it.”

#spn spoilers #14.18 #absence #episode recap #and rant #anti dabb #spn critical

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