#the page from the notebook is just final versions of lines from chapter 5 of you do not have to be good

[luvo27]

I have very bad cursive handwriting!! To demonstrate, a little behind the scenes for you: Here’s a page from my fic notebook!! For the last and final edits for the last chapters of the thing i was working on, i ended up saving them as drafts in ao3 where i then read them through and took notes on the things i wanted to change before going back in to edit, which is what this page is from.

plus, sticky note i made for myself regarding cass's characterization:

[bereft-of-frogs]

3. Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them? + 4: Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it? + 5: Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter. + 17: What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing? ---- Sorry, i am very curious :D

Thanks for asking! Questions are from this list, if anyone wants to send any more!

3. Do you have any upcoming WIPs? How far along are you with them?

The two I’m currently focusing on out of my sea of WIPs are what I’m calling the ‘twin bastard WIPs’: aka, the grotesque fic and ‘variations on a redemption arc 1′. I’m calling them that because they’re both similar despite being in different fandoms. They’re both about the same length, they both deal with dark themes (including torture, always fun), there’s a lot of overwrought emotional conversations - and I was having the same problems with them. Specifically, I’d put them aside and let myself get distracted by other works and then when I picked them back up I would have like...the same series of revelations every single time. Like, ‘oh I should do this and this, and THIS is the real motivation for this character behind the mask.........wait I’ve already done this.’ So I decided to just focus on these two until they were finished, which is going...umm...okay.  (There was not a ‘variations on a redemption arc 2′ when I made this pledge and then wrote three pages of it in a notebook...)

I would say I should be done with both by the end of the summer? Hopefully? well, the grotesque fic has a deadline now and I’m making good progress on the other (though I have fight scenes left to write blegh I always procrastinate writing fight scenes).

4. Tell me about one of your abandoned WIPs. Why did you abandon it?

I rarely consider WIPs abandoned. Either they were never really WIPs to begin with, just snippets of ideas and dialogue I had no intention of expanding on in the first place, indulgent scenes I just wrote for myself, or I still have hope to finish them. Two slightly longer ones though that I would call abandoned:

- last year to combine a whumptober prompt with a bad things happen bingo square (hunting season + surrender) I started a Star Wars fic but the worldbuilding never came together and I subsequently learned there’s an arc of The Clone Wars that did almost the same thing (one day I will actually watch The Clone Wars....it is not this day, though I do have a friend who might bully me into it soon) so I just scrapped it.

- I had another earlier version of the ‘Team Revengers on the Ark’ type semi-episodic fic, but I ended up pilfering some individual scenes for ‘pain and other human sensations’ and I ended up liking where I went with that a lot better (even for things that didn’t affect the larger series plot, like the Grandmaster’s return) and never really cared to go back and continue this version

5. Share a snippet that you’re proud of from an upcoming fic/chapter.

from ‘variations on a redemption arc 1′

“You’ll let him die?”

The thought of it leaves him momentarily breathless. But he still says, “Yes. I would let him die a Jedi.”

Silence falls between them. Qui-Gon expects Dooku to leave. But he doesn’t.

“I cannot deny,” Dooku says after a few minutes of quiet. The roar of pain has dulled to a steady throb. “That once I would perhaps have answered as you did. That I would have perhaps had the sense of honor to let you die rather than fall. But I have watched too many Jedi cut down in service of a mission that failed long ago, and I will do it again.”

file this under, ‘willing to put up with writing 3 separate fight scenes because I am in love with this one exchange’

[additional note: the second ‘variations on a redemption arc’ isn’t actually a sequel but just another fic along the same lines, with some divergences, which is why I really want to finish this one first, because first of all I keep getting distracted and losing track of the complicated emotional and political motivations, but I also don’t want to mix up themes since they’re taking place at very different narrative points. it’s just a funny placeholder title haha, because the other day I was like ‘wait isn’t this just another variation on the same narrative’ and then was like ‘eh, two cakes’]

not from the grotesque fic, but the conclusion to an accidental trilogy about ghosts and hallucinations:

“You see, in this I preferred the old Thor. He’d spare me these sorts of conversations, bury it down deep and act as if nothing’s wrong.”

Thor’s gaze is level. “You’re asking me to act like nothing’s wrong?”

“Yes.” Loki would vastly prefer never to have this conversation. He’d much prefer that Thor dismiss any of his new oddities as simple quirks and let him suffer in silence until it all fades. He turns back to his counting. 5…10…15…20…

“I know you’d prefer to avoid this talk, but see, that’s what got us in this mess in the first place, brother.” Thor sounds weary. “I let you suffer in silence until it didn’t fade, until it all blew up in my face. And you ask me to do it again? To repeat history?”

Loki stops counting cans. He was certain that he had not said any of that out loud. He turns and opens his mouth, but before he can demand an explanation, Thor says, “How’s the inventory coming?”

Only the Thor he was looking at hadn’t said anything, and the voice came from behind him.

Loki turns. Thor stands in the doorway, looking at him with an innocent smile on his face. Loki glances back to the crate where his brother had been perched. It is empty. He turns back to the Thor in the doorway, face feeling very cold and something unpleasant in his stomach. “What?”

“How’s the inventory coming?” Thor asks, a bit slower this time.

This was just the first piece I wrote of this conclusion, still far from making any decent progress on it but I like it!

17. What has been the proudest moment for you so far since you started writing?

Tie between 1) any jokingly angry comment (like obviously not any actual nasty comments but the ones where people are like HURTS SO GOOD) 2) actually scratch that, when I finally got the first ‘you’re disgusting’ comment on one of my extremely rare actual Thorki fics, I was pretty proud of that too 3) any time I get to a place where I read back a fic of my that I’ve posted that hasn’t gotten a ton of comments or kudos and I’m like ‘hell yeah this is fire, I don’t care if the readers don’t appreciate you, fic, I appreciate you’. Which might sound sort of full of myself but it’s always a nice place to get to where it’s like...hey the validation is nice but also I just really like this work. wrote it for an audience of one, me, and me is happy so that’s a win.

Feel free anyone to send more asks! I will theoretically answer them at some point this evening as procrastination from actually writing

[3pirouette]

Fic: An Experimental Design (5/?)

Title: An Experimental Design

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :) 

Story Summary: Sequel to “What Number?”, also prompted from Steggy Bingo Bash Prompts.  Takes place about a week after that fic.

A/N: So, despite my realization (with the help of a fabulous anon) that once Bucky falls off the train there’s only a day to maybe a week of time that passes before Steve takes down the Valkyrie, I’ve decided that in this fic it’s way more time, and that’s super important to the plot. Bucky went down months ago, at least 6. Please just go with it. 

Also, this is now rated EXPLICIT. if you’re not into adult content, well… believe me, you’ll know when to stop. (But if you’re already here, I’m pretty sure you don’t care about adult content ;) )

Also, I REALLY need to know if some of your headcanons were right. Please tell me!!

Chapter 5: The Experiment

~*~

“We found about a third of a file from some other poor woman. Age, height, eye color don’t match Peg.” Howard chewed on his lip as he slid the file over to them. Steve, holding Peggy’s hand under the table, took the file and pushed it between them, flipping to the first page. “It’s an offshoot of something they’ve dubbed the Winter Soldier Project.” Steve eyes popped up in interest, but Howard just shook his head. “We haven’t found much else on that except the name and it involves a single male subject. At least for now.”

“Give us the short version,” Peggy said smartly, pulling her eyes away from the documents.

Howard sighed, wringing his hands together. “Well… it’s…” He started and stopped, looking anywhere but them.

Steve couldn’t hide the concern in his voice. “It’s that bad?”

Howard slumped back. “It’s not good.”

In her usual fashion, Peggy was still the most pragmatic in the room. “Then, out with it.”

“The uh, one page has a name on it: Project Anchor.” He sat tall again and pulled the file from them, looking for the right translated pages. “I don’t know how this works, so don’t ask. We’re missing massive amounts of data. And to be honest, I’m really only guessing at a lot of it.”

“Howard…” Steve prompted, forcing the man to look up at him.

He swallowed, finally looking his friends in the eyes. “It seems their Winter Soldier Project is akin to our Project Rebirth. Project Anchor was their way to… to keep their man under control.”

Peggy eyed him warily, “Keep the man under control? Then why experiment specifically on women?”

Howard rubbed his face, clearing his throat. He took a deep breath, gathered his courage, and looked Peggy in the eyes. “Because the woman was what was going to keep him under control. The anchor. They were trying to pair bond their subject to a woman. Create false love, or need, and then use her as collateral.”

Steve looked over at Peggy, taking her hand and squeezing tightly. “Give him a reason to stay in line.”

Howard nodded. “Exactly.” He scratched his head then laid three pages out before them, pointing. “This page refers to some kind of injection derived from their variant of the serum. Our linguistics guy says he thinks they’ve created some of these terms, because there aren’t clear translations. Best he can translate and I can tease out it works like some kind of bacteria or virus, bonding itself to cells through the subject’s body- specifically on the nervous system- which allows it to act as an irritant.” He shifted to the next page. “This talks about a two part process, but we haven’t been able to find anything about the second part, or even if they were able to get to it.” He pointed at the third page, eyes on Peggy. “This page describes the same kinds of pain you’re talking about, Peggy, but just the pain part. I don’t think they ever introduced their subject to their male counterpart, so she only ever felt pain.”

Despite Steve holding her hand, Howard could see Peggy’s anxiety ratchet up, her breathing get shallow as her heart rate started to go up with fear. “What happened to her, Howard?”

He stroked his mustache, trying to avoid saying, but he knew they’d read it for themselves. He gathered the papers and shuffled them together, slipping them back into the folder. “She died.” He coughed, folding his hands. “Supposedly they were going to do an autopsy, but we don’t have that page.”

“Well, what do you have?” Steve asked, his tone dark and eyes starting to narrow. “You’ve got to give us something to work with here, Howard!”

“You think I’m not trying to?” Howard shot back sharply. “If Erskine were still here we’d have a hope, a hope, of really understanding what’s going on. The cellular biology was all him. I’ve got a handle on it, but there is so much that I don’t know…”

“Well, you should!” Steve pounded his fist on the table. “We need more than this!”

“Steve!” Peggy, took her other hand, laying it on his shoulder, “he’s doing his best.”

Steve groused, eyes on Howard. “Well, it’s not good enough.”

“I’ve got that,” Howard said strongly, chin set as he pointed at Steve. Steve, still incensed, didn’t budge, but Peggy turned, interested. “You’re not like this, Steve. You’ve never raised your voice at anyone as long as I’ve known you unless they were Hydra and on the wrong side of your shield.” Howard shook his head and pulled out the paper from his pocket. “I haven’t shown anyone this.”

Peggy and Steve read the two and a half sentences; Peggy gripping Steve’s hand tighter. “Breeding?”

“They had to have more than that one woman and you, Peg. There had to be so much more research somewhere that got them to this point. I’m looking, and I can’t find it, but I know it. They’ve been developing and testing this for far too long for us to not notice.” He sighed. “Whatever’s in your body reacted to the serum in Steve. Maybe it was when you touched, or it had to be a body fluid transfer when you kissed or something to that effect. I don’t know yet, but it’s in you, too, Steve.” Howard looked sadly at his friend. “It apparently wasn’t enough to make the woman be in lust or love, to tug on this poor guy’s heartstrings ‘cause she was in jeopardy, they’re altering the male counterpart, too, to feel hyper aggressive and hyper protective.”

“Like animals in heat,” Peggy mused out loud, disturbed. Her chin wavered as she pieced it together. “They give their soldier a mate that he cares about, loves even, and then threatens her with pain and even death if he’s gone too long, all the while hyping up his system so…”

“So that he’ll do anything to guarantee her safety.” Steve hung his head, unable to look at Howard. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Howard said softly. “I think that’s the understatement of the year.”

Steve hung his head, running his free hand through his hair. “So, what do we do?”

Howard only frowned at them.

~*~

The small base dorm room meant for visiting ranking officials wasn’t the worst place she’d ever been, but the fact that she knew Steve was on the other side of the wall and they weren’t going to be allowed to see one another until she was writhing in pain was absolutely weighing on her mind.

She knew it was their only course of action. It didn’t mean she had to like it. She sat on the bed, thinking she should be happy that Howard at least had a lead as to what was going on, but it left her hollow. The what was bad enough, but the why was swirling in her brain.

They’d planned to introduce her to a man she didn’t know and bond her to him forever by rage and pain.

And potentially children they planned on weaponizing.

She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that Steve had managed to touch her first.

~*~

It had only been an hour, but Steve was pacing like a caged tiger in the room next to Peggy’s.

He knew, deep down, Howard was right. He knew he hadn’t been behaving rationally when it came to Peggy since he’d brought her back. He should have made her go see Howard, shouldn’t have allowed her to hide for as long as she did.

But now, he could see it.

He could think back and realize there was more at work than just the love and care that had building withing him from the moment he met her. The drive, the desire to keep her safe reverberated in the back of his skull, fighting with the rational part of him. It felt like an animal was trying to claw its way out of himself.

He had to force himself to not pounce on the nurse who knocked on his door and came in with a smile, tasked with taking his vitals and drawing blood.

~*~

Four hours in, Howard stared at her as the nurse drew her blood. “It would be more helpful if we could take samples from you every hour, just like Steve, but you won’t recover as fast.”

Peggy nodded, looking away as the nurse filled the vials. “If I have to feel like a pincushion for a bit, just make it worth it.”

He nodded, pulling out a small notebook from his pocket. “Give me a rundown of your symptoms.”

“Fingertips and toes are starting to get numb, arms are achy, and my chest feels heavy.” She rubbed her arm as the nurse stepped back, watching as the woman pulled out a thermometer and blood pressure cuff.

“Zero to ten?” he asked without looking up.

“One.” She held her mouth open and let the nurse slide the thermometer in, taking around it. “Took much longer to start to come on this time. Usually, my fingers start to tingle as soon as I leave him.”

Howards eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

~*~

Six hours and counting, and he didn’t want to eat. Didn’t feel hungry. Couldn’t concentrate. All he kept thinking about was that Peggy was on the other side of the wall and he couldn’t do a damn thing to help her.

Howard had stopped asking how he felt when he came in every hour, on the hour, mostly because he didn’t need to. Steve couldn’t stop himself from ranting at the man, a man who was his friend, for keeping them apart.

Even though he knew why they were doing it. Even though he understood exactly why it was so important they had real, tangible data about what was happening in his and Peggy’s bodies so Howard could find some way to fix or counteract it.

The only thing Steve found he was able to do was pace, keep moving, and try to burn off the anger and anxiety building up in him.

~*~

At eight hours in she was a four, little shocks of lightning through her body, everything hypersensitive, muscles starting to feel tight and painful, head swimming and aching. It was all she could do to sit up and talk to Howard when they came in to check on her. Though they didn’t draw blood every time, they still had her spit in a vile, checked her pulse and blood pressure, checked her temperature.

If Howard was finding anything, he was being tight lipped.

Peggy wasn’t sure if the anxiety of the experiment was ratcheting everything up, or of the knowledge that Steve was just on the other side of the wall made her feel more on edge.

She knew what happened to her at a 5, and at a 6, and once she hit a seven she wasn’t sure how long she could go without walking through that door.

~*~

Howard locked Steve’s door at hour nine, though he knew it wouldn’t stop him if he was determined. He locked Peggy’s door at hour eleven as her pain started creeping up exponentially faster. She could only tell him so much as her mind unfocused quickly as they talked, distracted by the agony she was feeling.  

He could only run each test so fast, but the logs were filling up with data quickly. So quickly, he wasn’t going to have time to analyze it, but rather just keep running each test until he had all of it.

He had no idea what any of it meant yet.

~*~

Howard found her sitting on the floor, most of her clothes torn off until she was in just her slip, pressed against the wall.

“Peg?” he asked softly, shooing the nurse behind him back into the hallway.

“I’m right here,” he heard Steve’s voice through the wall, “I promise. I’m so close, Peg.”

“I don’t know how much more I can take,” she sobbed, the tears falling fast. “It hurts everywhere.”

“What are you at? How bad?”

“Eight,” she muttered, letting her forehead fall against the wall. “It’s an eight, but I know what’s coming.”

Howard slipped back out, sure she’d known he was there, but unwilling to eavesdrop anymore.

~*~

“You have to let her get to a ten!” Howard shouted at Steve. He hated that the man could hear her moans from his room, hated that Steve was forced to let her wallow like this, experiment or not.

“I don’t have to anything!” Steve yelled, moving forward.

Howard stepped back. Even though he was reasonably certain Steve wouldn’t hurt him, he wasn’t used to this side of the man. Howard, for his part, still didn’t back down, it was one of his more pigheaded traits. “Well, if you want me to figure out what’s wrong with her, you do have to.”

They heard Peggy moan through the wall, a pitiful, guttural sound. Howard had just come from there. Her eight was creeping up to a nine in record time.

Steve moved forward again, but this time Howard pressed himself up against the door, arms splayed out to try to keep Steve from leaving. “Just remember this, Steve: you go in there right now, we have to do this again. If you touch her before she gets to a ten, we have to do this to her again. Don’t make me do that. You know I don’t want to.”

Steve looked at him, eyes dark and angry, and paced away, growling in frustration.

“Just…” Howard took a deep breath, “Just try to hold it together for her, ok?” He opened the door, stopping halfway out. “Do it for her.”

~*~

Peggy couldn’t take it anymore. She’d tried to hold back, tried to stay quiet, but she couldn’t breathe when she buried her head into the pillow to muffle the cries. The pain had crept up on her fast, growing in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She couldn’t help the moans, had the let something try to get out with the screams.

She couldn’t come up with ideas and theories, not when her head was pounding like her skull was too small and her whole body ached with muscle pain and her joints felt like they were full of broken glass and there were electrical shocks everywhere through her.

“Tell me this is it, Peg,” Howard pleaded, kneeling at her bedside. “Just say ten. All you gotta say is ten and I can let this be over…”

She moaned as the nurse drew a vile of blood. The nurse and Howard both jumped when they heard the first bang against the wall.

Steve.

“Peg, just say ten. Then I can let him in.” Another bang shook the painting off the wall, the glass shattering on the floor. “We’ll be out of here and you two do whatever you need to do to make this right, ok?” Another crash, this time accompanied by the sound of the plaster cracking. “Just say ten, please?”

She curled into a ball on the bed, not reacting to the way the plaster was starting to chip or how Steve’s rhythm quickened as she writhed.

“Jesus,” Howard stood, rubbing his hands over his mouth. “I’m calling it. It’s a ten. She can’t even talk.”

The nurse was about to ask him to help her take Peggy’s blood pressure when the wall across from them boomed, a large crack running down the middle.

He grabbed her arm, pulling swiftly. “Nope. Out. You don’t want to be here for this.”

~*~

He didn’t know what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop.

There was a part of him that said the door is right there but there was another part of him, a bigger part of him, that needed to get to Peggy and he knew that she was just on the other side of that wall.

He’d listened, powerless, as she cried out for hours, as she tried to bear the pain herself when he was so close.

He’d sat on the floor, talking to her through the plaster until she couldn’t string sentences together anymore. He stayed there, feeling just a little bit closer to her, even when he’d heard Howard and the nurse lift her back into the bed.

He’d stood, faced the wall, and there was only one choice: through. So he’d punched it. And again, and again. It felt good to punch it, like there was something he was doing, something he could do, to make this better.

But punching wasn’t enough. It chipped the plaster and made a small hole, but he wasn’t going to get through the wall just by punching. He stepped back, took a deep breath, and fell against it, shoulder first.

He didn’t feel it, couldn’t feel anything, but smiled to himself when the plaster on his side started falling away, the wall bowed out. He pulled the chunks of plaster down, breathing heavy as he knew his mission was almost over. He was almost there. He took two steps back, and ran.

~*~

Steve crashed into Peggy’s room just as the door closed behind Howard. He skidded to a halt, plaster dust on him, broken glass and wall at his feet.

Peggy looked up from the bed, another cry falling from her lips as she curled in on herself.

He pulled at the collar of his t-shirt, ripping it off as he took two steps to the bed, falling to his knees and crawling up her body. Steve wasn’t thinking, only reacting, as he ripped the slip from her skin, baring her fully to him. He dropped down, pressing his bare upper body to hers, the touch of skin-to-skin pulsing through them like warm water rushing over them. Her arms clamped around him, holding him to her as his face rooted against her neck, licking and kissing the skin. “I’m here,” he mumbled against her neck. “I’m here.”

She could only concentrate on breathing, the press of him against her washing over her, soothing and igniting her at the same time. Pain slowly ratcheted down and started to move to needing and wanting as he kissed and licked along her collar bone, his hips rutting against hers as she tried to wrap her thighs around him.

She pulled him down, his weight pressing her into the mattress giving her just the tiniest bit more relief. Her breath caught when his lips found hers, his tongue already insistent and tasing her, despite her lazy, uncoordinated attempts to kiss him back. Her body didn’t feel like hers anymore, it felt heavy and weighted and like she was fighting to come back to life.

“What do you need?” he asked, dragging his lips to her ear to suck on her earlobe. “Tell me.” She didn’t know how to form words, couldn’t make her mouth do more than suck at the skin of his shoulder. She pulled him close, pushing her hands down over his back to his hips, clawing ineffectually at the waistband of his pants.

He knew what he wanted, knew what his body was screaming at him, what his body wanted him to take and how he wanted to do it, but he needed her to say it. Needed to know that despite everything that had happened to them, she wanted the same. He dragged his face back up, pulling away just inches to look at her.

Her eyes blinked open and her limbs tightened as he pulled away, the fear clear in her gaze that she thought he was trying to get away from her.

“Tell me,” he tried to whisper, tightening his embrace, but his voice was harsh and gruff.

Her chin wavered, the fear falling away as she tried to catch her breath. “You,” she finally breathed out. “All of you.”

His kiss was fierce, deep and demanding and she felt it set her heart beating harder. He pressed up on one elbow, pushing the other hand between them and fumbling with his belt and pants. She tried to help him, pushing with her feet as he pushed down with his one hand, his pants and boxers moving stiltedly down his legs at the same time.

His pants caught at his ankles, bunching around the boots he never took off. He moved to stand but Peggy held tight, moving more from muscle memory than from conscious thought as she flipped him over, body pressed tight to his.

She shook as she pressed up on her knees, hand reaching between them to wrap around his length, hot and hard in her palm. She watched him struggle to stay still under her, felt his hands flex and relax against her skin, the grip tightening only barely perceptibly. She moved slowly, eyes locked on his, as she lifted her hips and shifted him into position, bit her lip as she sank down on him and moaned.

She threw her head back when her hips met his, groaning at the tendrils of pleasure that finally, finally started moving through her, cooling spirals through every inch that neutralized the pain and sparked passion, true passion, that wasn’t dictated by a feeling or a sensation.

Peggy wanted to look, wanted to see Steve beneath her, but couldn’t seem to muster the energy to open her eyes, she couldn’t even quite make herself move as she wallowed in the sensation of the pain finally, finally leaving her body.

She could feel his hands at her hips, fingers tightening and loosening with each breath. She grabbed them, dragged them up her body until he was palming her breasts, gently squeezing under her own hands. She let her hands slide down his arms, landing at his shoulders by touch alone, her breath finally coming in slow, deep breaths instead of the shallow stilted gasps she could barely manage before from the pain.

Eyes still closed, she began to rock her hips against his, small movements that made him moan under her. Tiny, little changes in direction that made the pleasure spark through her system like fireworks. His fingers found her nipples, playing and teasing as her movements became bolder, as she started to find a rhythm. She took her hands and moved them back up to his, plastering his hands to her body moaning, “more,” under her breath a she moved her hands up and down his arms.

He moved his hand as she blinked open her eyes for the first time, looking down at him, lust glazing her eyes over. He pressed his palm up over her chest, around her neck and up to cradle her cheek. She turned her head into his hand, closing her eyes again as her hips gained speed, nuzzling into his hand and nipping at his thumb before sucking it deep in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it. He moaned as her lips mimicked her hips movement.

“More,” she moaned again, this time frustration tinging her words.

Steve moved swiftly, gathering her in his arms rolling, despite the handicap of having both feet effectively tied together. Peggy moaned happily buried underneath him, nuzzling into his body and rubbing every inch against him, her hips rocking against his as she wound her legs around his hips. He could feel the feral haze starting to dissipate, the need and want purely his own. He hiked her legs up higher on his hips, slipping from her body. She frowned, moving to correct it when he held her still. “Just…wait.”

He waited until she’s stilled, then kicked one leg to the side ferociously, ripping his pants down the seam and freeing him from the restriction. He smiled won at her, wagging his eyebrows. She licked her lips, smiling up at him as he slid himself back home, flexing his hips deep within her.

She writhed under him as he began to move, clawing at his back to pull him closer. “Take me, Steve,” she whispered, holding on as his hips drove deeper into her. She moaned lewdly, the rumble in her chest from the noise spurring him on to press harder and faster as she buried her head is his neck, her hot breath pouring over him.

It could have been seconds, it could have been hours that they held one another, pressed tight as one body, moving and breathing and crying out together as he brought her higher and higher. As she moved one hand, finding that bundle of nerves that just couldn’t quite get touched at this angle. As he replaced her hand with his, causing her to arch off the bed with his touch. As she fell apart under him, her body tightening around him as she cried out, pushing him past his own edge of sanity until there was nothing left except them breathing heavy, a pile of spent, sweaty limbs.

He didn’t ask a number as he gathered her against him. He didn’t care about the shreds of fabric and heavy boots he still wore as he pulled the bedsheet over them.

He just wanted to sleep and to keep her safe, always.

[ja0-s-blank-canvas-fic]

Chapter 14 - Hiro-kun The Analyzer

AO3 - here

Fanfiction.net - here

With chapter 14 we officially start the second day of school! And guess what? It's another multi-parter! Because I have no restraint and have so much to write. Basically most major plot points are going to have more than one part. ;)

This chapter is on the shorter side. I usually have the chapters between 3-5 pages on Word with 11 pt font and 1 inch margins. The length of the chapter depends on the natural breaks in the story. So some will be shorter or longer than others. Just fyi.

Now, without further ado, here is the second day at UA part 1...of 6. Enjoy! :D

Linktree to all the things!

End notes for the chapter are under the line.

Discrimination, elitism, and other things not so nice. Thus Hiro-kun was born! Using his super analysis powers, Izuku with his notebook has dedicated his life to analyzing Quirks and being plain freaking awesome!! (IDK, my brain is weird and went to the Powerpuff Girls's intro...a really bastardized version of it too. Oh well.)

That concludes part 1 of the second day! The hiding from Katsuki continues and has evolved to including a disguise and a code name! He's going to be hiding in plain sight, y'all. ;) Will Katsuki notice or ignore Izuku like all the other extras? Only time will tell!

Also, a teacher, or two, has finally taken notice of Izuku's analysis skills and wants to help him improve them! Take that, all the stupid teachers in Izuku's past! Hatsume isn't too happy that Izuku will be missing their first time in the studio together but the benefits outweigh the disappointment. And Izuku's going to be meeting All Might again since their last...conversation. I wonder how that's going to go. ;) We'll find out next week!

I'm having Izuku be fluent in English for reasons that will be revealed later. And we will get to meet Hisashi at some point but mostly he is just a background character for now. I do like the idea of Izuku's dad being All For One in general but I don't think I'll be doing that with this story. Though I'm not sure exactly. It's far in the future and I haven't fleshed that part out much. So maybe, maybe not? We, including me, will have to see. (I know what I'm going to do now but you'll have to wait to find out! ;) )

We got fanart! :D CyreneHime on the discord drew this lovely piece of Izuku in his Hiro-kun disguise. ^____^)

Fun Facts About Japan:

In junior high, every morning, school starts with a morning meeting. And it always follows the same layout. I know this because they keep a list of steps of how the meeting will go in every classroom on the desk at the front. In Japanese of course, but I could read enough to get the gist. They have student leaders take charge and lead the class through the morning greeting, announcements, and other such stuff. They like the students to learn independence early in Japan so they have student leaders be responsible for different tasks that would otherwise be done by the teacher in the US. Like directing other students during cleaning time, leading the groups during the sports festival, or making sure the student rows are straight when there's an assembly. Anyway, after the student leaders talk the homeroom teacher would make their own announcements as well. Then the meeting would end with the end greeting. The meeting at the end of the day was also much the same.

That's it for this chapter. Next week comes part 2 of the second day with Izuku reuniting with All Might and meeting the rest of 1-A! Thanks for reading and let me know of any typos or weirdness! :)

[parkerspicedlatte]

Disconnected-Chapter Three (Luke Hemmings)

Summary: In an alternate universe where everyone has a soulmate, Luke and his soulmate share the rarest of them all. Some people have matching tattoos, others feel each others pain/emotions, but mental connections are the least common. The connection that Luke and Lynn share is that they can hear whatever song the other is singing. When they are close together they will be able to hear each others voices but for the meantime, they can only hear the recorded versions.

Pairings: Luke Hemmings x Lynn Corby (OC)

Warnings: A few swears. Naked Luke, nothing to worry about seriously....

Content: little bit of angst, nothing bad. Let’s share some love!

Featured Songs: Hey There Delilah (Plain White T’s), Your Body is a Wonderland (John Mayor), The Next Episode (Dr, Dre), Patience (Guns ‘N’ Roses), Dirty Little Secret (All American Rejects), Swing-Swing(All American Rejects), Gives You Hell (All American Rejects), Meet Me in the Hallway (Harry Styles), Sign of the Times (Harry Styles), Carolina (Harry Styles), Two Ghosts (Harry Styles) aaaaaand an unrecorded song.......

“Two days. He’s been like this for two days. At what point do we step in?” asked Calum as he walked into Ashton’s room handing the older boy a cold beer, fresh from the refrigerator.

“I have no idea.” Ashton sighed taking the beer from Calum. “Is he still locked up in his room?”

“Door’s shut so I’m assuming, yeah.”

“I think we should call Liz.” said Ashton with a grin on his face. “She could get him to snap out of it.”

“You’re not wrong,” Calum chuckled, “but I don’t think he would talk to her right now.”

They both sat in silence for a few minutes, each sipping away at their own beers. In the kitchen, a squeaky toy could be heard and occasionally a bark from Duke or Petunia. After a while Duke came trotting into the bedroom proudly, dropping the toy at Calum’s feet and letting out a little yip to show off his possession.

“Did you take Petunia’s toy you little monster?” Calum asked picking up the small dog. Seconds later Petunia sluggishly walked in after Duke.

“Has Luke even fed Petunia today?” Ashton asked looking down at the dog with a concerned frown.

“Nope, I did when I fed Duke. She ate so fast that I’m wondering if she even had any food last night.”

“Poor Piggy.” Ashton said sympathetically, reaching over to pat her head. Petunia pushed against Ashton’s large hand, her way of asking for more attention. Ashton complied by setting his beer and phone on the nightstand to sit down on the floor with her. Immediately she crawled into his lap and tried to lick his face.

“That’s it.” Calum huffed in annoyance while setting Duke down on the floor. “He can’t just neglect his dog.” Calum fumed as he walked out of Ashton’s room and towards Luke’s. “The little shit better have a good explanation for this.” He muttered to himself.

As he neared Luke’s bedroom, Calum heard the bathroom door down the hall click shut and the shower turn on. Calum pushed the bedroom door open and once he was sure that it was Luke in the shower, and not Michael coming home early, he started his search.

The bed wasn’t made and there were some clothes hanging out of the laundry hamper. The closet door wasn’t shut but other than that, the room looked like it hadn’t been touched in days.

“Strange.” muttered Calum.

There was a laptop and an open notebook lying on the unmade bed. Going against his better judgement, Calum picked up the notebook and began reading the open page.

Hey There Delilah-Plain White T’s                                         5:46pm

Your Body is a Wonderland-John Mayer                                5:50pm

Patience-Guns N’ Roses                                                        5:54pm

The Next Episode-Dr Dre                                                       6:01pm

***

Dirty Little Secret-All American Rejects                                11:01pm

Gives You Hell-All American Rejects                                    11:04pm

Swing, Swing-All American Rejects                                      11:07pm

Meet Me in the Hallway-Harry Styles                                    2:13pm

Sign of the Times-HS                                                            2:17pm

Carolina-HS                                                                          2:23pm

Two Ghost-HS                                                                      2:26pm

 “Find anything interesting?” Calum jumped at the voice coming from the doorway of Luke’s bedroom. He hadn’t even heard anybody walking in.

“Nothing except a notebook with songs and the time beside them, it’s weird,” Calum said to Ashton who, by then, had walked into the bedroom and sat himself at the edge of the bed. Petunia followed and settled herself at his feet with a small grunt. “The last time written in here is from a few minutes ago. I don’t know what it’s supposed to mean though.”

“Check the laptop,” said Ashton bluntly, “it’ll still be open and we won’t need a password.”

“Little invasive don’t you think?” Calum muttered while handing Ashton the notebook to reach for the laptop anyways. As soon as his fingers traced the mouse-pad, the screen illuminated with the last web search Luke had entered.

I swear to god the silence is breaking me

Both Calum and Ashton’s faces scrunched up in confusion as they read the sentence and then scanned over the search results.

“I actually have no idea what this is supposed to be.”

“Me neither.” said Calum to Ashton who peered over his shoulder.

“Check the other tabs.” Ashton said pointing to the top of the web page.

“Don’t put your finger on the screen!” Calum whispered harshly, smacking Ashton’s hand away. Using the sleeve of his sweater, he wiped the smudge from the glass. “Luke’s gonna notice because he can’t stand dirty screens. Then he’ll know we snooped.”

“Whatever.” Ashton rolled his eyes then reached over Calum’s shoulder to move the cursor to the next tabs. The tab opened to a YouTube search. The search bar read:

Music>Singer/Songwriter>”Nothing”

“I think that’s just him listening to music. Next tab.”

“Wait!” Calum smacked Ashton’s hand away again before he could change anything, earning a small yelp from his friend. “Luke didn’t open any of the videos, see? No red line.”

“Sooo?”

“I don’t know, yet. But don’t you think it’s weird?”

“Sure Calum. Come on next tab! Luke’ll be out of the shower soon!” Ashton half-whined impatiently.

Calum’s eyes narrowed at the screen as his brain tried to chase a thought before it got away unanswered. How did they connect? A notebook of songs, a YouTube search for a song with no artist and a search with…

“Are those lyrics?”

“What?” asked Ashton.

“The first tab, the weird search; do you think those were lyrics he had been searching for?”

“Uh maybe,” Ashton scrunched his nose while thinking. “Yeah actually. That would, that would make sense, I guess. Maybe it was a song he heard on the radio or something that he wanted to find, I don’t know.”

“Mmm close, but whatever this is has something to do with why he’s been locked in here for two days. It’s gotta be bigger than some song on the radio.” Calum thought aloud, more for his own benefit than for Ashton’s.

Both Calum and Ashton were silent for a few minutes as they tried to connect the dots in their heads. The silence was broken by Ashton muttering something that, in a way, sounded more like a question.

“What?” it was Calum’s turn to ask.

“The next tab, the last one, it looks like it says soulmate. Maybe this could have something to do with his soulmate. It would make sense because of the whole song connection thing right?”

Calum froze. His fingers that he’d been subconsciously drumming on the laptop froze in mid air.

Holy crap Ashton’s right! Calum mentally slapped himself for not thinking of it earlier. It’s not like he didn’t know about the ‘soulmate consultant’ business card that Michael had found.

Before Calum could continue his train of thought, it was interrupted by the sound of shampoo bottles falling to the bottom of the shower and the shower curtain being ripped open aggressively three rooms over. Within seconds, a soaking wet Luke ran into the room with a panicked look in his eyes. Luke scanned the room frantically, not seeming to realize, or care, that Calum and Ashton were there. Luke had bigger things on his mind.

Clad in only a towel, the tallest blond started throwing the blankets and sheets of his bed around, looking between the layers for something. He grabbed the pillows and chucked them across the room, still not finding what he was looking for. Calum and Ashton stared on in bewilderment, not saying a word.

Finally Luke, Calum and Ashton’s eyes all landed on what Luke was looking for at the exact same moment; the notebook on Ashton’s lap.

Luke dived across the bed but before he’d even gotten close to Ashton, Ashton was on his feet and holding the notebook behind his back.

“Ashton, hand me that notebook!”

“No.” Ashton told him firmly.

“Ashton, hand me that notebook, please.” Luke tried again growing more and more annoyed with Ashton by the second.

“Not until you tell Calum and I what the hell is going on.”

“Give me the notebook Ashton!” Luke said more aggressively this time. Each syllable sounding harsh on his tongue.

“Not until you-”

“No! You don’t get it! I don’t have much time! Give me the notebook before she’s gone!”

“Before who’s gone, Luke?”

“For fucks sake, give me the god damn book I don’t have time for this!” Luke lunged at Ashton again but finding it difficult to do so and hold up his towel at the same time. Calum still hadn’t moved from his spot on the bed. He was debating on whether or not he should be helping Ashton or letting Luke go at him. Ashton, at this point, was holding the notebook up and over his head away from Luke.

“Ashton you can’t do that I’m taller than you!” Luke stated, grabbing for the book yet still failing despite his height advantage.

Nobody had noticed that Michael had come home until he was at the bedroom door not seeming to care about the scene in front of him, the scene that involved a naked, wet Luke using one hand to hold up a towel that was unraveling from his waist and his other hand to knock something out of Ashton’s hand. In addition to the scene, off to the side Calum was watching the entire thing from the mangled bed.

“Hey guys are we out of-”

Luke pounced on Michael in less than a second, nearly knocking the wind from Michael’s lungs when they landed.

“Michael, take your shirt off!” Luke demanded attempting to roll Michael onto his stomach.

“What? No! Why?” Michael sputtered, his voice muffled from the carpet that his face was pressed into. The sheer force of Luke’s desperation was enough to roll him over quite easily. Luke sat on Michael’s backside as he pushed up the fabric of Michael’s faded denim jacket and t-shirt, reaching for a sharpie on the dresser at the same time.

“Luke! Why are you sitting on me while you’re wet and naked! That’s weird, even for you!” Michael yelled while squirming from under him. “Hey, that tickles!” he giggled at the feel of the fat, felt tipped marker on his skin. “My soulmate is going to wonder how the hell I managed to write on my back you know.”

“Hold still!” Luke said clenching the cap of the marker between his teeth as he continued to write on Michael’s back while holding him down.

“Luke, get off of Michael!” Ashton told him as if he were talking to a dog, instead of one of his best friends and band mates.

“Ashton,” Calum finally spoke up from the bed, “just let him write down what he needs to write. I’m pretty sure you’re making this worse.”

Instead of doing anything, Ashton and Calum stood there watching Luke and Michael. Michael had realized by then that Luke was not getting off of him no matter how hard he squirmed. He realized that if Luke was only writing on him, that he could live with it. Michael had stopped fighting and had brought his hands up to his face and rested them under his chin while looking up at Calum and Ashton.

“His stupid wet ass is making mine wet.” he huffed in annoyance, rolling his eyes at Luke’s behavior. This was a new kind of weird for Luke, but they’d all learned to adapt to each other’s weirdness by then. Michael just hoped that this wouldn’t become a reoccurring thing, he was sure his face and Luke’s knees wouldn’t leave without a bit of rug burn.

Luke’s hand eventually stopped tracing patterns into Michael’s back with the marker. The cap went back on with a snap. He silently got off of Michael and sat against the wooden dresser bringing his knees up to his chest. All three boys watched as he did so and tried desperately not to accidentally look up the towel. They were brothers but they didn’t need to be perverts, sometimes there was a line.

“Luke what was that?” Calum asked, his voice soft in comparison to Ashton’s and Michael’s a few moments ago.

“I’m sorry.” Luke whispered quietly, resting his head on his knees and wrapping his arms around them, doing everything except crawl into the fetal position and rock himself back and forth.

“What was that?” Calum asked again.

A few minutes went by. The clock on the side table read 2:32, then 2:33 and then finally 2:34 before Luke responded to the question.

“It was her.”

“Your soulmate?” asked Michael, not moving himself from his spot on the carpet he’d been previously pinned to.

Luke could only nod his head, tears at the brim of his red eyes warned them of his strong emotions. Luke tried to blink back the tears but they ended up falling anyways, leaving a shinny, wet trail down each of his checks.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally, “I’m sorry I’ve been a douche for the last few days and I’m sorry for just now. I just, I really need to find her.” His voice cracked at the last three words making the tension in the room instantly melt away with his sincerity.

Ashton dropped down to the floor and sat beside Luke, handing him the notebook.

“I’m sorry; I should’ve given it to you when you asked.”

Luke swallowed the lump in his throat only for it to bob back up again, as if to remind him that has was nearly crying in front of his best friends, again.

“Hey Luke, it’s alright. We’ll find her okay.” said Ashton reassuring “Tell you what? From now on I’m going to do everything I can to help you find her. This comes first okay?”

“Me too.” Calum said nodding along to what Ashton had said.

“Me too, but only if someone tells me what this nut job wrote on my back.” Michael stated as he sat up and crawled the last few feet over to Luke and Ashton with a goofy grin on his face making everyone laugh.

“Well I’d like to know what Luke Hemming’s soulmate is writing songs about so come on then, off with the shirt Michael.” said Calum, earning another low chuckle from the group.

“I get to keep the rest of my clothes on right?” Michael asked, making a point to gesture at Luke who was still not dressed in the most indiscreet way possible.

“Yeah yeah just take it off so I can copy it into the book ya wanker.” Luke told him.

As the shirt came off, Calum and Ashton crowded around Michael’s back to read the writing leaving Luke to stand up and search for a pair of pants.

 I’m sitting in a white room these bright lights are blinding me.

I guess that’s what happens when you wear your heart out on your sleeve.

The clock on the wall says it’s half past three and I swear to god the silence is breaking me.

 Luke smiled softly at the words as if he felt and understood them perfectly. In a way, he did. 

Series Masterlist

Regular Ol’ Masterlist

A/N: Poor Michael. Soooo what did you think? Too cheesy? Too weird? TELL ME! jk jk but seriously, I would like to know how you felt about this chapter. Next chapter I promise we’ll get more Lynn in there. Thank you for reading

-xx Reetz ;)

Taglist: @madformichael @h0tsos @fiesty5sos @misskarynie @negative-love@captivatingcal @beautifulplacesforhappines@felonystevefoundthe1975 @mellany1997 @caswinchester2000 @babylonduke@castielanddeanthedog  @katsen13 @abby-landolf  @aulxna let me know if i missed anybody! :)

[confessionsofanoperaghost]

🎭 for the PotO meme

1. Does the name “Erik” get your attention, no matter where or in what context you hear it? ,,,,,,,,,,actually yes.  

2. Would you travel or have you traveled to certain places only because they were PotO-related? Which ones? I certainly would! And I have a long long list of places that are from my headcanon as well!  But sadly they are in Europe, Asia and the Middle East. Cost is a factor.

3. Would you see the musical by yourself because your friends or family weren’t in the mood to go with you? Have you done so already? I haven’t and I might. It really depends on how my relationship to the musical changes over the next 20-60 years. I’m not keen on most of ALW’s recent touch on the franchise and I’m worried about more and more or Maria Bjornson’s work getting dropped from the tour (and rumors say maybe from the Broadway and WE productions as well in time??). So, we’ll see. I will be happy to outlive ALW and bear witness to the various ways the The Really Useful Group shoots itself in the foot. But its so expensive to watch something that’s only going to break your heart--and not in the ways you want it to. So it REALLY depends. 

4. How often have you seen the musical?  I have seen it exactly once. It came to my hometown in 1999 (I was 15) and I spent every penny I could scrape together to get an orchestra-level ticket. And frankly I was unimpressed. I never went back. I feel bad for saying it. It might have been better for me if I had grown up with bootlegs, but I had only read the book and listened to the OLC. I literally didn’t know what to expect from the tour. I’m not sure.

5. How much PotO stuff do you own? I should just say “a lot of stuff I dunno, lol” but I suddenly want to think about this. 

My original deMattos paperback

A David Coward paperback

A Wolfe paperback (its at a friend’s house at the moment)

The “milestone collection” two DVD disc set with all the extras of the 1925 Poto with Lon Chaney Sr (my babe!!!)

The Cherik miniseries (as a bootleg copy on DVD...i paid good money for it tho, lol)

the 2004 movie cuz it was cheap as hell 

Original London Cast recording of the ALW musical on CD

This BRILLIANT book about the making of the 1925 silent film

An actual first run copy of The Phantom of Manhattan by Fredrick Forsythe (purchased for me on clearance as a joke.)

A cheap copy of Susan Kay’s book that a friend picked up for me. I’ve been asked to do a seething read-along. I figured I should probably own the book before I literally rip it a brand new shiny asshole on YouTube...

a weird, like, 14 pages long, full color, SUPER condensed version of the book with Greg Hildebrant’s drawings. This was the present our teacher purchased for the acting class that produced a weird 1970′s straight-play version of the story that no one seems to remember now (its not particularly good so don’t worry)

the “Barnes and Noble” deMattos hardcover edition that --because it started to fall apart right away--I have been using for art projects and pop-culture-based spells

A large locket with Lon Chaney’s Erik (and his Quasimodo)

one of Muirin007′s gorgeous prints

An adorable necklace made by MegLouiseGiry that’s got a slice from the book in it and a heart-shaped crystal (Poto Secret Santa 2017)

A Lon Chaney 1925 POTO T Shirt. And it glows in the dark! (I got his Quasi on a shirt too but sadly it does not glow in the dark)

a 17,000+ word Google document: a sticky rough draft of my Erik-life-story Phic that I may or may not have been working on for 2 decades.

similarly, a red and gold notebook stuffed with tangled notes and headcanons and bad phan poetry from the 1990s

A bunch of other books that look unrelated to the untrained eye (for research)

a 6 inch figure of Lon Chaney’s POTO dangling from a plastic chandelier that happens to be about to scale 

a thousand other items that may not look like references to Poto to the untrained eye... like: a red scarf and round-framed spectacles and an antique violin case and a choking kink and a skull mask and a dramatic red and gold cape and daddy issues and a balcony overlooking the sea and a black mask that covers the whole face and an attraction to the most beautiful hands........

6. Have you had dreams about the Phantom or other characters? Do you remember any in particular? I’ve only had dreams about Erik. Usually I am myself or Christine or some slurry of the two. Here’s the best one: 

Saturday, November 19, 2016. True Beauty.

There was the theatre. The wings and the lifts. Backstage lights. Curtains.

Joseph Bouquet spots the fiend in the catwalks and is--fast as lightning--slaughtered by the quickest of lassos. Other stagehands and security ascend to the tops, chasing a shadow they can barely see. Someone thinks they’ve captured his cloak only to find their fists full of nothing.They chase this shadow to the roof and find nothing but stars as the phantom killer slips away...down into the dark. 

Carved structure. The dark is black and warm. He feels near. Yes, Erik has come for you. A lucid dream, I am both player and played. 

I am playing you. 

You feel a dance. You cannot find your way out of all that warm darkness. Though she cannot see, she feels her maestro all around. Unable to retreat, unable to find light; she turns but I am already there... darkness and a warm, red, deep glow. She twists in anxiety and frustration--away! away! away!-- breathing as though she is counting her final breaths. Twisting and trying to find some cool air or a bit of sunlight.

Erik shows her that there is no escape from Erik. He is is every corner of her. 

She succumbs. 

 7. How many times have you read the book? Literally more than I can count. At 15 I had MOST of Chapter 13, Apollo’s Lyre, memorized (deMattos translation). Iv’e only read it in English and I have yet to read some of the less-recommended translations.

8. How many songs from the musical could you recite from memory? (Or just sing along to?)  So I have almost the whole thing more-or-less memorized EXCEPT that its ONLY the version as sung in the Original London Cast recording. So every single line that has been changed since then (or god forbid an unedited soundtrack where all the choruses of Hannibal are included, lol) I get wrong. But yeah i listened to that nightly for like 2 years of my adolescence and I can hardly listen to any of it now.  I burned places in my synapses.

9. Do you randomly quote lines from the book or musical in real life? Don’t you? Honestly, the most fun I have is calling up fun lines and needle them into my vocabulary throughout a regular day. Unless you do an obvious one your average person isn’t going to know.

10. Have you ever met up with another phan?  Yes but by the time I’ve me up with them its definitely about something more relevant than the Phandom that brought us together. 

[konan-supernova]

AfterLife Incorporated - Chapter Two

Masterpost | Ao3

Words: 4,694

@secretsanders @xx-this-is-a-mess-xx

CW: None that I can think of. Please let me know if I need to add something!

Logan reached out to turn on the lamp, pausing as his fingers met nothing. He inhaled sharply as memories rushed back, and reached out to feel the unusually empty air, dreading the moment where he would find was he was looking for. His finger brushed against a smooth, curved surface, and he glanced over to see his hand barely lit by a soft blue glow. He gingerly placed his hand down on the smooth surface of his nightstand, curling his fingers under his palm until he had made a fist. He held his muscles taut for a moment before letting them relax onto the table, only to repeat the process a few more times.

“Lights,” he muttered, still flexing his hand against the table. The soft glow of the night lights illuminated the barren room, and Logan relaxed to see it, blurry as it was without his glasses. It was still a shock, waking up here, but he was growing used to it. After the first three days, he had been allowed his own room, though he wasn’t given anything to decorate it with.

“That comes from training victories and mission rewards,” Virgil had explained with a shrug. “Everyone’s walls are a little bland for the first few months.”

And it was fine. Logan liked the minimalist lifestyle - he wasn’t ever able to commit to it, but he admired it. His moms had always taught him to save things whenever possible, as you never knew when something might need replacing or might be necessary later. Being dead, though, Logan didn’t have anything to worry about in that regard. Perhaps he could grow used to this, though he would have to admit that it was a bit strange now.

Logan scanned the room, taking inventory of the few objects he did have. Dresser, prefilled with uniforms in his size. Bed, with dark blue sheets and two pillows. Nightstand, with an extra pair of glasses in the top drawer and a small notebook in the bottom. Alarm clock, plain as possible, reading 5:38 A.M., no date given. Desk, with notebooks and other assorted papers in the left drawers and office-like supplies in the right drawers. One desk lamp, blue like his sheets. And then himself, covered in sweat and sitting upright in the bed, curling his fist over and over on the nightstand.

He let his hand relax on the nightstand, though he was now too awake to try and relax into a sleep-like state. Besides, it was getting close to 5:45, any minute now, his alarm would be ringing, telling him to get up and face the day laid out before him.

At the exact same time that the alarm went off, there was a knock at the door. Logan slammed his fist on the alarm clock, silencing that, and hopped up to answer the door. He smoothed down his shirt right before the door slid open, though felt a bit underdressed when a fully clothed Virgil looked him up and down and complimented him on his pyjamas.

“Flannel,” he noted, pointing at Logan’s slippers. “Fancy.”

“I am glad you think so,” Logan muttered, clasping his arms behind his back. Virgil smiled, almost like he was biting back a laugh.

“Well, I wanted to make sure you were up - we have a bit of a long day ahead of us,” Virgil said, clearing his throat. “You’re going to get to meet your training instructor, and we’ll be taking you on a mission to observe specific techniques.”

“Mission?” Logan asked, grabbing his glasses from his nightstand. Virgil nodded, then stepped back into the hallway.

“I’ll explain that more later,” he said, watching as Logan carefully slid his glasses onto his face. “For now, just focus on getting dressed and ready for the day. I’ll meet you in the cafeteria, yeah?”

“Alright,” Logan nodded, giving Virgil a quick wave before shutting his door. He hesitated a moment, then pulled open the dresser and picked out a simple outfit (not very hard, seeing as everything was uniform). He barely bothered to throw his pyjamas on the bed, only deciding to do so as not to ruin the otherwise spotless floor. He took a moment to run down to the bathroom and comb his hair back, but otherwise decided to skip any grooming he would’ve otherwise obsessed over.

Finally, he pulled the small notebook from his bottom dresser drawer and slipped it in his (surprisingly large) pocket. The he was gone, speed walking down the hallway towards the cafeteria. Idly, he wondered what his training instructor would be like, if they would be overly aggressive, calm and calculated, or laid back and (as they say) “chill.” How many missions would they have gone on? Would Logan be any good at missions? What would they do if he wasn't?

...what exactly were the point of missions? Logan frowned as he walked, fingers twitching at his sides. Virgil hadn’t yet explained what AfterLife agents actually did, other than a vague “save people and get back to base” line in his original tour spiel. Logan was eager (read: nervous) to hear about the contents of missions. Perhaps they were all different, meaning Virgil couldn’t have explained the concept of missions without explaining each individual mission he’d gone on. Logan was intrigued by these thoughts, to say the least.

At last, Logan reached the cafeteria, the room about half full as people made their way to breakfast. Logan squeezed through the small crowd of people by the door, moving towards the pile of trays and utensils. He grabbed one of everything, just in case, and went through the line, carefully selecting the best options for a long day of physical activity with his training instructor.

Once he had everything, he scanned the half empty room, quickly locating the only person he knew. He hastily made his way towards Virgil, taking the spot to his left at the table. Virgil raised an eyebrow, not looking away from the datapad in his hand. He took a bite of cereal, and only then did he look up and acknowledge Logan’s presence.

“You sure took your time,” he joked, taking another bite. Logan rolled his eyes and began salting his eggs. “You mind if I borrow that when you’re done?” Virgil asked as another figure approached the table. A man in a white and red version of the AfterLife uniform sat down on Virgil’s right, and Logan shrugged.

“Feel free,” he said, passing the salt over to him.

“‘Morning, Virge” the man said, though Virgil did not respond. He picked up the salt shaker, and Logan watched as he poured the entire thing into his cereal, and, without flinching or breaking eye contact with the new man, ate a huge spoonful.

“Morning, Roman,” he finally said, his tone quite a bit cheerier than Logan had ever heard it. “How’s your day going?”

“I have no words,” Roman said disgustedly, scooting away from Virgil, who only laughed. Logan found himself chuckling under his breath, much to his surprise. Roman only just then seemed to realize he was there, and he looked upon him with an inquisitive eye.

“Hello,” Logan said, not bothering to reach a hand across the table. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“New?” Roman asked, a sad edge to his tone. Virgil nodded somberly. Logan just looked between the two, confused as to the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“Recruit,” he muttered. Roman nodded, and Logan couldn’t help but notice the way he stiffened slightly, not to mention how he completely ignored his greeting. Perhaps Roman wouldn’t be such a pleasure to be with, but hopefully he wouldn’t see him around too much.

“Oh, Logan,” Virgil began, a bit louder now than before. “This is your training instructor, Roman. You two will be spending the next couple weeks together as he teaches you how to work with your abilities.”

Logan wanted to bang his head against the table in frustration, but compromised with himself by simply eating his eggs in silence. He noted that they didn’t have enough salt, but it didn’t matter, he couldn’t fix that now.

“Here,” Virgil passed him another salt shaker. “I saw that face you made there.”

“Oh, thank you,” Logan re-salted his food, though still avoided Virgil’s gaze.

“Roman, I’ll be on the training deck if you need me,” Virgil gathered his dishes onto his tray and stood up, already moving towards the trash bins. “I’ll see you at 7:00, then?”

“Right,” Roman nodded, “7:00.”

Logan took note of the time, and, seeing that it was already 6:24, quickly finished his food and made his way to the other trash bins, one hand curled around the notebook in his pocket. In life, he had known nothing stranger than this new world he found himself in, so he would be doing what he did best. He would write it all down, every last detail.

°•°

By the time 7:00 rolled around, Logan had run out of things to note. He didn’t know too many details about AfterLife yet, just the basics, and trying to pull on any past experiences here wouldn’t be helpful. He figured it would be better to start his training before recording anything else, and perhaps when was done, he’d have more to add to the annoyingly blank pages in his pocket.

He already had some ideas on what to write upon entering the training deck, what with its massive ceilings and expansive walls. The room was much larger than any other Logan had been to so far, though it, too, sported the sleek white, grey and blue color scheme of all the other areas. He found himself standing in the doorway just looking around the room, taking it in.

“Big, isn’t it?” Virgil spoke up from behind him, and Logan whirled around to greet him. Virgil smirked and stepped past him into the room. “I had pretty much the same reaction when I first saw it,” he looked around the room fondly, and after a moment, a hint of something, perhaps sadness, started to bleed into his expression. “He really outdid himself on this one.”

“Who, Roman?” Logan asked, his head cocked to the side. Virgil shook his head.

“No one, don’t worry about it,” he waved his hand a bit, fending off Logan’s question with a smile.

“Were you speaking of me?” Roman’s booming voice filled the space around them, and Logan almost jumped from the sudden noise.

“Eh, not really,” Virgil grinned, wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulder, pouting when he shrugged it off. “Come on, Princey, let’s get this party started.”

“I wouldn’t call it a party, per se...” Roman huffed, straightening his shirt. He grabbed a staff from a large rack of weapons next to the door and began walking further into the room. Virgil motioned for Logan to follow and set off behind him.

“Why does this room need to be so big?” Logan found himself wondering aloud, once again enraptured by the size of the training deck. Ahead of him, Virgil chuckled and Roman ran a hand through his hair, seeming exasperated.

“Well, sometimes we do training games in here, with all the available agents,” Roman began, turning so he was walking backwards. “It’s a great way to get to know the others, as well as develop teamwork skills with all of them.”

“We’ve got one coming up in about a week, Logan,” Virgil pitched in, barely turning his head to speak over his shoulder. “This one’ll be a strategy game, so I can bet whichever team picks you will win rather quickly.”

Logan hid his smile (and rather deep blush) by pretending to rub at one of his eyes. Roman gave him an odd look, but Logan waved it away once the red in his cheeks had subsided.

“Got some dust in my eye,” he explained, straightening his shirt. Roman smiled, then turned back around to face forward. By now, they had reached one of the solitary corners of the room, which was only about the size of two gyms mashed together (still rather large, especially by Logan’s standards). Roman waved a hand towards the center of the room and two white walls rose up from the floor. Virgil yelped as one began to rise from under his foot, and Roman earned a quick (but hard) punch on the shoulder.

“Ow,” Roman muttered, gritting his teeth. After a moment, he lowered his hands, leaving the trio in a considerably smaller room. Logan could only stare as the walls shifted on their own, clicking into place.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Roman said, clearing his throat. He raised his staff, holding it out to a bewildered Logan. “This is not necessarily an easy weapon to learn, but it’s a very useful one and I would suggest you familiarize yourself with it.”

Logan tentatively took the staff in one hand, nearly dropping it as he realized how heavy it was. Not too cumbersome, but it was hardly light. Once he had a firm grasp on the weapon, he looked up, only to see that Roman was holding his own staff. Glancing to the side, he could spot Virgil leaning on the wall, watching the two intently.

“Am I going to be fighting things with this?” Logan asked, inspecting the long white weapon. Roman shrugged.

“If you like,” he said. “This is the first weapon you’ll be learning to use, of course, but you can trade it out for something flashier once you’ve learned the basics,” he elaborated, twirling the staff in his hand absentmindedly. “Anyway, we’ll be starting with balance work and a few basic striking patterns.”

“Like, at the same time…?” Logan winced, raising the staff and turning it over in his hands. Roman let out a boisterous laugh, then shook his head.

“No, no, balance should always come first,” he explained, holding his own staff out in front of him. “You should always get a feel for your weapon before you try to start even the most basic of training.”

“Alright,” Logan said calmly. “Show me.”

For the next hour and a half, Roman would help Logan to get used to his staff and instruct him on the three basic strikes. Once Logan had gotten those down, he would demonstrate them to Roman and Virgil, using them to attack Roman (and would get increasingly upset as Roman would block his blows, seemingly without breaking a sweat).

“You’re really working him down to the bone,” Virgil commented, throwing a very sweaty Logan a towel. Logan grabbed it wordlessly, his chest heaving as he wiped his forehead and hands off. Roman just shrugged, finally setting down his staff.

“You were the same way with me, weren’t you?” he walked over to join Virgil on the wall, pulling a water bottle out of thin air. He took a quick swig from it before tossing it to Logan, who barely managed to catch it with his still somewhat damp palms.

“Thanks,” he wheezed, unscrewing the cap and taking a giant drink. He relaxed once his thirst had been quenched, though was quite surprised to see that he had downed the entire bottle in less than twelve seconds. Virgil watched with a raised eyebrow, then turned to Roman, shaking his head.

“You’ve got to be done for today,” he ordered, picking up Roman’s staff. He held out a hand and Logan’s own weapon came flying to meet it. “We need to get to mystic arts training before we can take you on a mission,” he addressed Logan this time, reaching his hand out for the empty water bottle. Logan handed it over, now intrigued by the sudden display of magical-like powers.

“Is that what that just was?” Logan asked, staring at the staff in Virgil’s hand. He nodded, a tiny smile finding its way onto his pale face.

“Let’s take a half hour break,” Roman suggested, raising a hand to collapse the walls. “That should give each of us time to get cleaned up.”

As the walls retracted into the floor, Logan couldn’t help but notice all other rooms that had popped up around the training room, and a few people standing outside their own makeshift room. Roman waved at them all, and a few people called out to greet him, while others slunk away sheepishly. Logan realized with a start that all the other walls in the training deck were see-through, almost as clear as glass. He felt his face going red as he wondered whether or not these people had been watching him fail at attacking Roman over and over, though the answer seemed quite clear to him by now.

“Meet us back here at 10:00,” Virgil told him as they finally got the exit. Logan nodded, his hand already reaching toward his pocket. He quickly pulled out his dark blue notebook, eagerly jotting down the things he’d learned in training. He did a few quick drawings of the diagonal towards southeast and southwest strikes, illustrating the correct motions with stick figures. He almost didn’t notice when he neared the living quarters, nearly walking right past his own room.

He was finished with his shower by 10:17, and was redressed and ready to go back to the training deck at 10:21. He placed his notebook and pen in the pocket of his clean pants and decided to head down early, possibly to catch Virgil there. A quick conversation with him would be nice and refreshing after nearly two hours of physical activity.

Logan fiddled with the collar of his shirt as he walked, finding himself uncomfortable with the garment. This wasn’t the first time this had happened since he’d… arrived here, but this might have been the most notable episode. He realized as he neared the training deck once more that he missed his ties, the constant weight around his collar and on his chest. He felt almost bare now that he was without it, though he had to admit a tie was hardly practical for training of any sort. Still, he found himself wishing he could incorporate it into his uniform somehow, perhaps adopt heavier necklaces or pendants as a more practical alternative…

Seeing Virgil waiting outside the training deck snapped him out of his thoughts, though his hands remained clasped around the collar of his shirt. Virgil help up a hand in greeting, though did not look up from his datapad as he spoke. Logan situated himself next to him, leaning on the wall and pulling out his notebook. He turned to a stray page and doodled idly, checking the time on his watch every few minutes.

10:25.

10:27.

10:28.

10:30.

Logan looked up to see Roman jogging down the hallway, looking almost upset. He cleared his throat for Virgil’s attention, then shot the man a look when he glanced up. Virgil sighed and led the trio into the training deck, and Logan disregarded the odd transaction between the two as he prepared for whatever was to come.

Roman led them to the corner once again, this time skipping over the rack of weapons near the entrance. He raised the walls in the same place as before, and Logan idly wondered how many people were watching them now. He didn’t have time to dwell on it, as Roman was already handing him a large blue gemstone.

“What is this?” he asked, inspecting the thing for any meaning.

“That’s a power stone,” Roman explained. “You don’t need them to use your powers, but they’re a natural enhancement tool that can help beginners learn to find and control their abilities.”

“A power stone,” Logan repeated, staring at it. “Seems… familiar.”

“The name? That’d be because-”

“No,” Logan interrupted, an odd feeling rising in his chest. “The stone itself seems familiar. Like… Like I’ve seen it before.”

“It can have that effect on people,” Roman nodded. “Especially those more prone to the mystic arts, like yourself.”

“That’s why you’re here,” Virgil chimed in, giving Roman a rather grave look. Roman sighed, returned the look, and turned back to Logan.

“Anyway, the stone can help with getting your powers to manifest, which makes it a great stepping stone if you’ve never even realized you had powers before adulthood,” Roman continued.

“What powers do I have, exactly?”

“Well, it varies from person to person, but generally, you’ll have some sort of elemental specialty, as well as a few additional powers on top of that. For example, I work well with fire, but I can also summon small to medium sized corporeal objects into physical settings.”

“How would I go about using this, then?”

“First, you’ll want to close your eyes and focus on the stone. You can focus on the familiarity of it, or the feel of it in your hand, or the color and vibrancy of it - anything that gets you to concentrate on the stone in your mind will work.”

Logan closed his eyes then, squeezing them shut behind his glasses. He rolled the stone around in his hand, feeling the rougher edges, questioning the cold emanating from its surface. He felt it whisper in his mind, and he listened, unable to decipher the overlapping thoughts.

“What next?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“You reach out to it, while, at the same time, reaching within yourself. The contact with the power of the stone mixed with your own determination to bring out your powers should be enough to awaken them.”

Logan remembered that strange feeling in his chest. He reached out to the whispers in his skull, challenging the stone to speak up. Challenging it to be louder, to show itself in its true form. No hiding behind whispers, behind cryptic lines and gemstone minds.

The pressure in his chest increased, as if a hand were wrapping itself around his torso. Strings of unknown power wrapped around his body, but he did not give in, would not let them pull him apart. This is all you, kid, he thought, though the voice that spoke his thought was not his own. It was not the voice of the whispers, either, but something, no someone else.

He gasped as the force tugged at his heart, as the whispers in his ear grew to a cacophony of screams, and his eyes flew open.

Roman and Virgil were nowhere in sight. Instead, the area in front of and around him was covered in ice. It stuck to the wall, to the corner of the training deck, and reached the false ceiling, where it branched out and hung down in great icicles.

The stone fell from Logan’s hand, barely making a sound as it hit the floor. He held the offending hand to his chest and stepped back. Immediately, he bumped into another body, slightly shorter than him, and he whirled around, almost falling back into the ice.

The walls, he thought. He stared past the concerned faces of his mentors and looked instead at the unassuming white walls, the ones he knew were see-through from the other side. How many were watching right now? Would there be a crowd outside, determined to discipline him for hurting the others? How soon would the walls drop, leaving him vulnerable to their inevitable attack?

Logan squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. You’re okay, he thought. You’re fine. They’re fine. Everything is fine.

A hand touched down almost weightlessly on his shoulder, and his eyes snapped open. Virgil’s eyes met his own, large and deep and caring.

Breathe, he mouthed. Logan nodded and took another deep breath, following Virgil’s hand pressed against his heart. After a moment, sound seemed to return, slowly at first, and then all at once with a great ringing in his ears. Logan winced, turning down Virgil’s outstretched hand. He managed to pull himself up and he dusted off his shirt, avoiding Virgil’s concerned gaze.

“I… apologize,” Logan began, his voice wavering a bit. “For getting so emotional, and for the outburst with the ice. It wasn’t intentional, and I can-”

“It was impressive,” Roman cut in. Logan turned towards him, shocked, and saw him apparently inspecting the ice on the wall. “Not even melting yet. This is incredible power, not the kind you get from simply using a stone,” he turned to face Logan, a huge smile spread across his lips. “You have nothing to apologize for or worry about, Logan. I’m very impressed with you, and I want you to know that while it’s okay to panic, you actually did wonderfully.”

“You mean, I was s-supposed to…” he gestured at the wall of ice, which was lowering the temperature of the room more by the minute. Roman just shrugged.

“Well, not really,” he began. “But you weren’t… not supposed to,” he added hastily, seeing Logan’s expression drop even more. “Does that make any sense?”

He shook his head.

“I think what Princey’s trying to say is that while we weren’t expecting you to awaken your powers so quickly, it wasn’t a bad thing that you did,” Virgil explained, now leaning on one of the artificial walls. “It just means you’re either very powerful, very in-touch with your powers, or possibly both.”

“So, it was a a good thing?”

“It was a good thing.”

Logan smiled wearily. “Well, I suppose I don’t have to worry about that then. But, what about my…” he trailed off again, unable to finish.

“Roman turned off outside visibility when you dropped the stone, so if anyone was watching, they’re not watching now,” Virgil assured him. He let out a breath of relief, now feeling rather exhausted. It wasn’t even 11:00 yet and he already wanted to go back to sleep.

“Y’know what, I think that’s enough for now,” Roman decided, likely sensing Logan’s distress. “We were planning to take you on a mission to demonstrate more advanced skills, but you should get some rest before we decide on that.”

“I want to,” Logan said before he could stop himself. Virgil and Roman’s eyes snapped up, both looking surprised (though Virgil looked equal parts surprised and worried). “I mean, if I can get some rest beforehand, of course, and you’re still willing to take me… Then I’d like to come along.” It may help me to learn to control these powers better.

“Absolutely not,” Roman shook his head. “You should be resting.”

“Once I’m rested, I can come along and-”

“You’re obviously worn out!” Roman interrupted,  gesturing at Logan. “You’re barely standing right now. No one in their right mind would let anyone, even someone in otherwise peak condition, go fight monsters like this.”

“I’ll just be watching you two, won’t I?” Logan seethed, clenching his trembling fists at his sides.

“Look, if you think you’re up to it by 6:00, we can talk,” Virgil stepped between the two, facing Logan. “If you’re not feeling rested enough by then, you’re not coming, but if you’re feeling better, you can tag along. Deal?”

“Deal,” Logan grumbled. “I’m going to head back in my room until then.”

“You want me to bring you lunch?” Virgil asked. Logan shook his head, picking up the power stone. He handed it to Roman, who pocketed it quietly.

“I’ll just eat something before we go.”

“If we go,” Roman reminded, now working on collapsing the walls and ceiling. They fell away rather quickly, and the trio split apart in three seperate directions.

“When,” Logan muttered, already trudging across the training deck. A small crowd began to gather around the accidental ice sculpture in the corner, whispering to one another about it. He did his best to ignore them all as he made the short-ish walk back to his room, though it seemed much longer due to his sluggishness.

When he finally made it back, he collapsed on his bed, barely managing to pull off his glasses before a wave of exhaustion hit him. He groaned and set his alarm to 5:00, then rolled over and faced the wall. Within minutes, all was quiet, and knew sleep once more.

[eddycurrents]

For the week of 14 May 2018

Quick Bits:

A Walk Through Hell #1 is largely atmosphere and introduction, as we’re dropped into the lives of a couple of FBI agents, a strange mass shooting at a mall, and the subsequent disappearance of two of their colleagues in a warehouse. Garth Ennis giving us some straight up horror again is very welcome and the tease of what occurs with an entire SWAT unit is enticing for what’s to come. Also, the art from Goran Sudžuka and Ive Svorcina is perfect.

| Published by AfterShock

All-New Wolverine #35 brings the series to an end. Over the thirty-five issues, plus an annual and a Generations special, Tom Taylor has delivered one of the most consistently excellent series from Marvel in recent years. The stories have been entertaining, the characters interesting, and contained a nice mix of action, humour, and a real sense of family between Laura, Gabby, and the real wolverine, Jonathan. It’s sad to see it end. But at least it goes out on a high note. This final chapter of “Old Woman Laura”, with wonderful art from Ramon Rosanas and Nolan Woodard, has encapsulated a large part of the fun of this series.

| Published by Marvel

Avengers #2 continues the over the top bombast and destruction of the first issue, actually raising it a bit higher as Ed McGuinness, Mark Morales, Jay Leisten, and David Curiel break out even more action. There is a bit of confusion in regards to Jennifer Walters’ current state, apparently she’s a dumb Hulk again, is built like her angry grey version, but green. It’s like she’s regressed, but there’s no explanation here. Other than that, Jason Aaron progresses the arrival of the Final Host nicely, with an interesting narration from one of the reasons why the Avengers originally came together in the first place.

| Published by Marvel

Avengers: Back to Basics #6 concludes this digital original series. It’s been fun. Peter David’s story has been highly entertaining, with two-issue sub-stories fitting into one over-arcing story involving Ms. Marvel. These past two issues dealing with that mostly head on as Kamala’s dealt with Kang. Also, the art has been great. The first two issues and these last two issues have had the art chores handles by Brian Level and Jordan Boyd, with some very nice page layouts and interesting decisions for panel composition.

| Published by Marvel

Ben Reilly: The Scarlet Spider #18 has some really nice art from André Lima Araújo. I love his style, basically a mix between someone like Martín Morazzo and Katsuhiro Otomo.

| Published by Marvel

Bloodshot Salvation #9 has Ray Fawkes join in on the writing duties for an excellent standalone story detailing the origin of Bloodhound deep in the trench warfare of World War I. Along with Renato Guedes wonderful art, this is a good story even if you’re not regularly a reader.

| Published by Valiant

Cable #157 continues to play with Cable’s history, past and future, as Nate Grey and a group of alterNates from various timelines are brought together at the end of time to face Metus. It’s interesting how Lonnie Nadler and Zac Thompson are mining Cable’s continuity, while still building new encounters and characters to fill in some of the holes.

| Published by Marvel

Cold War #4 peels back the curtain just a little bit, to give more hints as to what’s going on truly with the war and its pieces. We get some more insight into LQ, as well as mainly following Sath and Tikk this issue, bringing about some interesting control issues for Vinh. Christopher Sebela and Hayden Sherman have some interesting characters here and the overall future plot just more interesting.

| Published by AfterShock

Crude #1 jumps headfirst into the seedy, unsavoury, and harsh life of working in Blackstone. Interesting to see the rival “gangs” vying for control over the land and the people, as well as giving an insight into what it might have been like for Kiril here before his death. Gerry Brown’s artwork is perfect for this, dark, gritty, and feeling like the characters have walked for ages through mud and worse.

| Published by Image / Skybound

Daredevil #602 gives a good argument for why Mike Henderson is one of the best artists at Marvel right now. He’s great with action and talking pieces, making the various moments of horror, heroism, and humour in Charles Soule’s script shine.

| Published by Marvel

The Dead Hand #2...hoo boy, damn this is a good comic. Kyle Higgins, Stephen Mooney, and Jordie Bellaire are producing a taut thriller and mystery, tapping into Cold War era paranoia and espionage epics and creating something amazing here. The characters are great, fitting perfectly into the spy mould, but the revelations each issue as to what’s going on raise the stakes and storytelling to a higher bar. Also, the art is incredible. This is some great stuff.

| Published by Image

Death of Love #4 gives us a pretty epic confrontation between Philo & Friends and the army of Cupidae. There’s some humour as they work out who the players were in the first issue and set up for the final conclusion next issue. The art from Donal DeLay and Omar Estévez really shines this issue.

| Published by Image

Dry County #3 comes up with some interesting avenues for investigation as Lou continues to try to find out what happened to Janet. Rich Tommaso is mining the trappings of Miami Noir so perfectly, but what I absolutely love is how he’s incorporated even the comic strip into the narrative. It’s not just work, it’s also another tool in Lou’s arsenal as an amateur detective. Brilliant storytelling.

| Published by Image

Ether: The Copper Golems #1 is a very welcome return to the world of Ether from Matt Kindt and David Rubín. I’ve said before that Rubín’s art deserves many accolades and the original Ether series was one of the many reasons why, but one of the first in the North American market. It’s just wonderful. A mix of whimsy and detail, with amazing character designs and interesting page layouts, I just love the art. It also helps that Kindt more than pulls his own weight, adding more interesting wrinkles to Boone Dias’ personal life on Earth that makes his departures into the fantasy realm deeper. Also, there’s something sad and somewhat sinister when someone introduces themselves as “Lost”.

| Published by Dark Horse

Flavor #1 is a fascinating creature. It reminds me a bit of the beginning of Joe Keatinge’s other fantasy series, Shutter, somewhat in tone, with beautiful bright art from Wook Jin Clark and Tamra Bonvillain, but also that there seems to be a lot more going on than just what we see at first. That undercurrent has me hooked, but the surface is also rather captivating. Xoo and her dog, Buster, are endearing and the world of fantastical culinary chefs is something different for comics (Moonstruck and Brave Chef Brianna notwithstanding).

| Published by Image

Gideon Falls #3 is another issue full of oblique messages and hints at something insidious as Jeff Lemire, Andrea Sorrentino, and Dave Stewart continue to play the long game when it comes to the horror that’s lurking in Gideon Falls. So far it’s all about atmosphere and building up the characters, with some interesting bits of how Norton’s paranoia and obsessive compulsiveness can bring out some dangerous behaviour, regardless of whether or not he’s actually right.

| Published by Image

Hunt for Wolverine: The Claws of the Killer #1 is the third limited series, this one following Lady Deathstrike, Sabretooth, and Daken. This one also makes me question some of the status quo of the characters, what with Sabretooth acting more villainous (although there has been a darker turn in Weapon X of late) and Daken’s characterization currently being all over the map between this, Iceman, and X-Men Blue, but taken at face value, this story from Mariko Tamaki is one of the ones that makes the most amount of sense, and looks like it’s going to have an interesting plot on top of just the hunt for Wolverine angle. The art from Butch Guice, Cam Smith, and Dan Brown is really nice. It’s a bit scratchier than I’ve come to expect from Guice, but it suits the darker subject matter.

| Published by Marvel

Infidel #3 keeps the hits coming as Leslie’s dead, Kris is hurt but stable, and Aisha is randomly unconscious. Pornsak Pichetshote plays up the racist angle outright here, with Aisha’s friends and neighbours addressing it outright, and it looks like the anger, hate, fear, and division are feeding whatever’s going on. Plus, a notebook full of Goetic sigils and other stuff. Aaron Campbell and José Villarrubia again nail the creepy atmosphere. 

| Published by Image

Infinity 8 #3 marks the end of the first part of this series and the first recursion loop. Dominique Bertail’s art is stunning, the designs for the different Kornaliens and all of the dead creatures throughout the necropolis are amazing. It’s also interesting in Lewis Trondheim and Zep’s story how the mystery is going to progress as time resets and the crew tries to learn what’s going on. 

| Published by Lion Forge / Magnetic Collection

Infinity Countdown: Daredevil #1 is a one-shot detailing how the mind stone came into Turk Barrett’s possession. It’s the kind of fluffy thing that would usually be a couple of panels or a throwaway line in the main series of a crossover, but it’s not bad on its own. I kind of get the impression that all of Infinity Countdown will be better read as a whole, even if the event is just a primer for the forthcoming Infinity Wars. At the moments, it’s just a lot of little disparate pieces. Nice art, though.

| Published by Marvel

James Bond: The Body #5 is another great issue, working as both its own discrete story, with great art from Hayden Sherman and Valentina Pinto, and as part of the broader whole story that Aleš Kot has been serving up in this series. The approach of analyzing Bond from within, piece by piece, has been highly entertaining.

| Published by Dynamite

Kick-Ass #4 is a fairly explosive instalment of the series, with Patience essentially running into a brick wall and finally beginning to assess the ramifications of some of her actions. Still not the moral implications, but certainly the toll that her life of crime would have on her family.

| Published by Image

Lucy Dreaming #3 continues to be a fun read, as we find out a bit more about the world than Lucy dreams herself into and the science project that allows her and her friend Welsey access it. All while delivering a humorous take on the Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Max Bemis and Michael Dialynas are delivering something very imaginative with this series.

| Published by BOOM! Studios

The Mighty Thor: At the Gates of Valhalla #1 is a one shot that acts as a bridge between the latest volume with Jane Foster and the upcoming new series starring the original Thor Odinson. It features two somewhat connected stories by Jason Aaron, the first with art by Jen Bartel spotlighting the Goddesses of Thunder, Thor’s granddaughters from the future who were introduced early on in Aaron’s run, and a second illustrated by Ramón Pérez following Malekith’s plans for the War of the Realms, both nimbly coloured by Matthew Wilson.  

| Published by Marvel

Ninja-K #7 puts together a kind of Unity 2.0 in order to put down the Coalition in Mexico. I love that Christos Gage is playing with the wider Valiant universe for this arc. Often times the stories from Valiant stand on their own save for crossover periods these day, and, while that’s certainly a strength, it’s nice to see that shared universe utilized in entertaining ways. Especially when it means more Doctor Mirage and Punk Mambo. Also the art from Juan José Ryp and Jordie Bellaire is amazing.

| Published by Valiant

The Punisher #224 brings Frank back stateside for the beginning of one hell of a reckoning in the wake of him donning the War Machine armour and the ramifications from Secret Empire. It does seem a bit hypocritical coming from the hands of Captain Marvel, though. There still really hasn’t been any concrete fallout on her own actions from Civil War II, which is somewhat disappointing. Still, Matthew Rosenberg gives us a good story here as Frank cuts an even more brutal swath through Marvel’s rogues gallery.

| Published by Marvel

Quicksilver: No Surrender #1 continues on from Quicksilver’s sacrifice run in the Avengers’ “No Surrender” arc with Pietro finding himself unstuck in time. Saladin Ahmed pens an intriguing script, but the real highlight here is Eric Nguyen and Rico Renzi’s art. Particularly Renzi’s colours. The stark contrast between Pietro, the colours of the energy demon thing(s), and the world devoid of colour is an impressive choice. It really makes the story come alive and hammers home the strangeness of the situation.

| Published by Marvel

Summit #5 begins the second arc with Federico Dallocchio taking over the art duties, while Amy Chu pens a story that more properly sets up Val’s current status quo and supporting cast at MIT. It’s an interesting approach, an astronaut celebrity professor superhero, and an decent set up.

| Published by Lion Forge / Catalyst Prime

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #82 has more excellent art from Dave Wachter and Ronda Pattison. The story also gets a bit more interesting as the various factions in New York begin to move on plans for something more, even as Baxter Stockman betrays what happened to the Triceratons. Kevin Eastman, Bobby Curnow, and Tom Waltz also expand upon the Rat King, Toad Baron, and their family of immortals in interesting ways.

| Published by IDW

TMNT Universe #22 concludes the two-part story from Paul Allor, Mark Torres, and Ronda Pattison that puts the Utroms and Triceratons on a hard road to peace. It’s a good set-up, despite a foundation on lies, that makes me interested to see what happens next in this tenuous situation. There’s also a nice character piece back-up from Ross May, Chris Johnson, and Mark Englert with Leatherhead and his interpretation of freedom.

| Published by IDW

Usagi Yojimbo: The Hidden #3 has Usagi and Inspector Ishida inch closer to the truth as they continue to hunt the murderers of the two unknown ronin.

| Published by Dark Horse

Weapon H #3 is still much, much better than I ever would have expected a book about a Wolverine/Hulk mash-up character would be. Greg Pak, Cory Smith, Morry Hollowell, and Rachelle Rosenberg are doing an impeccable job here, as the over-the-top action continues with Clay facing an squad of Broodlings under the control of Roxxon, while his wife continues to investigate his “death”. There’s a kind of old school sensibility about this series and it’s being utilized to great effect.

| Published by Marvel

X-Men: The Wedding Special #1 gives us a trio of tales in advance of the wedding of Kitty Pryde and Colossus, including a retrospective of Kitty’s history, and one each for the bachelor and bachelorette parties. The retrospective is about what you’d expect from Chris Claremont, wordy and with a penchant to highlight some bits of his time with the character. Honestly, it’s good to see, with some nice art from Todd Nauck and Rachelle Rosenberg.

| Published by Marvel

X-Men Red #4 gives us a revelation of part of Cassandra Nova’s plan, weaponizing hate through a new form of nanite sentinel. Mahmud Asrar and Rain Beredo outdo themselves with depicting an impressive confrontation with Storm.

| Published by Marvel

Other Highlights: The Archies #7, Assassinistas #5, The Ballad of Sang #3, Barrier #3, Captain America #702, Cinema Purgatorio #14, Curse Words #14, Encounter #3, Jimmy’s Bastards #8, Mighty Morphin Power Rangers #27, Moonshine #10, The Originals: Essential Edition, Persephone, Riverdale #12, Ruin of Thieves #1, Star Trek: The Next Generation - Through the Mirror #3, Star Wars: Poe Dameron #27, The Wicked + The Divine #36, You Are Deadpool #3

Recommended Collections: The Ballad of Halo Jones - Colour Edition, Black Magick - Volume 2: Awakenings II, Black Science: Premiere Hardcover - Volume 1: Remastered Edition, Evolution - Volume 1, Hulk: Return to Planet Hulk, Infinite Loop - Volume 2, Mage - Volume 4: The Hero Defined - Book 2, Moon Knight - Volume 1: Crazy Runs in the Family, Paradiso - Volume 1: Essential Singularity, Rick & Morty - Volume 7, Star Wars: Poe Dameron - Volume 4: Legend Found, Summit - Volume 1, Turok - Volume 1, The Unsound

d. emerson eddy is not the one you know.

[the-nysh]

Saitama Cares Masterpost

PART ONE

Yep, THIS IS a comprehensive and ongoing list + commentary (with pictures!) of every moment Saitama shows care/concern for Genos in the story, to eliminate the common misconception that Saitama is either ‘heartless’ (no way) or that the sentiments between them are only one-sided from Genos (not true; the characters just express their outward emotions differently). To establish that Saitama does not treat Genos with the same indifference of a complete stranger/acquaintance, but rather in fact grows fond of him to the point he treats Genos noticeably different than others. With particular emphasis on moments from the original webcomic, AS PROOF Saitama’s subtle way of caring originates from the source material itself. Feel free to use as a reference list or supplemental material to enrich fan content or expand people’s positive perspective of the egg!

Current chapters covered: up through the meteor arc (ch23) Words: 1800+

Chapter 6, the moment they met. They don’t even know each other, yet Saitama genuinely thanks and compliments Genos as ‘awesome/amazing’ for saving him from the mosquito hoard. Not even caring or noticing that his own clothes have been completely burned off in the process. No complaints from him at all, just that he’s pleased and impressed by Genos, even making chance lighthearted puns during the moment too:

Chapter 10, vs Asura Rhino/Carnage Kabuto, which was their first outing together, the same day as, and immediately after Genos arrived to Saitama’s door, with his backstory given and disciple proposition declared.

The ‘Modern Art’ scene, where Saitama stares in stunned, confused concern at Genos getting embedded into the wall, IGNORING the face of the monster, with his attention only on Genos until he declares, ‘you’ll pay.’ The manga increased this to two pages, with wider body shots of Saitama’s stunned reaction, however, his ‘ignore the monster’ pose was changed to 90 degrees instead of how the webcomic shows his head turned at an opposite 180:

The catching scene, (the ‘leg hold’ in the anime). The manga has an extra panel of Saitama watching Genos’ fight (and swoops in off-panel to catch him), but the webcomic has Saitama suddenly appear at his side. His supportive hand on Genos’ shoulder was changed to his waist in the manga too. The manga further shows Saitama kneeling at Genos’ side while supporting his back for the ‘don’t push yourself so hard’ panel.

The ‘afro’ scene. The egg OVERTLY CONCERNED if Genos is ok from the blowback, yelling with visible sweat drops over his condition (same worried reaction in the manga). The webcomic’s ‘son of a bitch!’ line in response to the monster doing this to him is a personal fav of mine (even if it’s just the translator’s personal choice to use that language). 8D As is his raised fist with his serious expression, ready to dish out retribution. He looks angrier here, so I definitely prefer it to the manga’s version:

Chapter 11, when prompted by the monster to explain his strength training regimen, rather than simply answering him, Saitama directly addresses Genos about it instead, instructing him to ‘listen up’ and focus on the important parts:

Two birds with one stone here, yes, but Saitama makes sure he has Genos’ attention first and performs his ‘teacher role’ mainly for him, and not caring as much for the other two in the audience (barely even notices the scientist in the room). When Genos responds in a furious fit at him, Saitama is visibly shocked (stress sweat included), but CALMLY meets his distress with open honesty. Caring about Genos’ reaction and making sure he understands the truth. Not caring at all for the monster’s version of rage (sales are more important than that).

Chapter 15, while Saitama is at first in shock over the news of his nonexistent popularity (and wants to be left alone in his distress, telling Genos to go home), after learning why, he’s then interested whether Genos has already registered as a hero or not, with neither of them wanting to register alone. (Genos was never interested in joining in the first place: “no, I wouldn’t do something like that/I’m not interested.”) Genos gives him the necessary background info and exposition, but Saitama is the one to initiate the idea they register together, with the deal that if Genos comes with him, he’ll make him his disciple ‘for real.’ Of course Genos elatedly flips his mind right there and agrees to go along! (This agreement was allll on Saitama’s insistence here; in fact, you could say it was Saitama who bribed him to register because he didn’t want to do it alone.)   

Chapter 16: Upon passing together and Genos beaming to him that he’s looking forward to his official teachings, Saitama contemplates that maaaaybe he was too quick to make that promise, especially to the type of guy Genos is (cyborg, upstanding, diligent, serious, hardworking, loyal, overeager, honest to a fault). Essentially, feeling wholly unprepared to have signed up for a task (and tutelage over a person) that’s much more than he’s comfortably qualified (or even really wants) to handle. But, he has to step up and take this teacher role (and hero job) seriously now. Does he fall back and refuse? No, he takes responsibility for his actions and makes the most of it. When alone, he reviews their hero ranks, with himself in Class C and Genos in Class S, contemplating the gap he has to climb to reach him and thinking about him: “could it be that Genos is actually really amazing?”  

Chapter 17, their spar. Indulging on Genos’ request for a match, as their first test bout as newly appointed teacher-student. Saitama keeps it playful and not too serious, as it’s not fighting ‘for real’ to him. Tagging Genos with the cute cheek poke (with a fun smile!) and forehead flick after demonstrating a fist of his power to his face. Important to note that a parallel scene happens much later in the manga vs Suiryu in the martial arts tournament. Also not fighting ‘for real’ there either. Both of Saitama’s ‘opponents’ want him to get serous and display his power, but the difference between Saitama’s two punches is that he shreds Suiryu’s clothes in humiliation (Saitama’s close-up afterimage behind Genos could have shielded him from some of the blast too). Saitama was not having the same fun in the tournament (or smiling during that match), unlike in his spar with Genos, nor does he care for Suiryu the same way (flat out refusing his disciple request in comparison too). Saitama asks Genos out for udon, which the anime even shows in full with a competitive, fun eating match (which Genos wins this time, and Saitama, genuinely impressed, tells him he’s amazing again).

Chapter 18, Genos moves in. It’d been 5 days since their spar in the webcomic/manga, but the anime changed it to that very same night (after the udon). Webcomic Saitama doesn’t mind that Genos regularly comes over, but moving in is another story. Immediately changing his mind upon seeing Genos’ loaded rent money (offering payment upfront IS polite & proper boarding manners, whether or not Genos was aware of Saitama’s tight finances then to legitimately bribe him). However, ONE’s stated that Saitama has never used Genos’ rent money. 

Genos came prepared and eager to learn (with his notebook), but conversely, Saitama believes he has nothing to teach him (muscle training is useless for a cyborg after all), and importantly, doesn’t want to play at this teacher charade any longer if it’s like he’s deceiving or taking advantage of Genos:

It would become all the more morally unacceptable (really, Saitama would feel bad) to continue half-assedly and meet Genos’ high & honest expectations of him with deceit like that. Genos has raised the bar to the point Saitama’s been put on the spot and can’t simply mess around with this anymore. Establishing right here how much Saitama’s conflicted about this: even if he’s empty handed, ideally he wants to match Genos’ eagerness with open honesty and NOT deception or having to abuse his position of power. (Saitama is a good egg and he’s TRYING to do this teacher thing right!) But he doesn’t know how or what else to teach him aside from what he already knows, (knowing Genos won’t simply accept his training method either). Scrambling and pressed for time (gotta juggle his hero quota deadline), he settles for a temporary, on-the-spot goal for Genos to aim for in the meantime (top10 hero spot). Saitama assumes the advice he gives is bullshit, but it DOES logically consider Genos’ limitations and key mental aspects he needs to improve, so it is viable insight and not as far-fetched as Saitama thinks (it’s actually pretty spot-on): 

Chapter 20, interested whether Genos has done any hero work yet to raise his rank too (popularity a different story). RECEIVES GENOS’ PRAISE HERE. In contrast to the comments from fans who don’t personally know him, Genos gives his honest opinion of Saitama, ‘the most incredible man he’s met,’ since he knows him. While Genos doesn’t value what his fans have to say (and Saitama shocked he isn’t embarrassed reading them out loud), the same can’t be said whether Saitama doesn’t appreciate what this particular ‘fan’ has to say about him. ;3 He brushes off Genos’ words as flattery (in anime, as ‘buttering him up’), but the manga and anime show him with a little pleased smile. So while Saitama is bad at receiving/taking compliments from him, on some level he IS glad there’s someone who finally appreciates him.    

Chapter 21, THE METEOR. Arrives in impeccable timing to save Genos. Saitama probably heard the news on his own, geared up and rushed to the scene, witnessed Genos’ whole flashy attempt to blast the meteor, stood back for him, and only approached at the last possible moment when Genos absolutely needed his help. He personally instructs Bang to take care of Genos for him and evacuate to safety while he takes care of the meteor:

The manga has Saitama arrive in extra dramatic flourish (+color in the digital version), hidden behind his speech bubble until Genos turns and lightens up in astonished recognition (complete with shoujo sparkles). :’) Saitama went through the trouble to do all of that and arrive directly at Genos’ side, when he could have simply destroyed the meteor by jumping from the vicinity of his apartment. Not only that, but he gave Genos room to finish his attack without rushing in and ‘stealing his thunder’ so to speak. Saitama knows Genos is usually strong enough to take care of himself, which is a reoccurring sentiment from him (even repeated by ONE & Murata in interviews), so he only intervenes and steps in when he sees Genos rendered helpless to fight anymore, which here, also revives Genos’ hope at his lowest moment (when he pretty much accepted his grave). :’))) 

Chapter 22, the meteor aftermath. Genos laments that the HA didn’t call Saitama in the first place (instead of him) to more effectively handle it with Metal Knight to reduce damage to a minimum. But Saitama immediately rationalizes Metal Knight wouldn’t have been a team player anyway and that he (himself) handled things just fine since no one died. Coolly assuring Genos not to brood/worry over what didn’t happen and to focus on the positive outcome instead. Like for instance, interested in whether their ranks went up (specifically asking Genos in terms of ‘we/our,’ not just for himself). Plus, when Genos starts talking threat levels, Saitama freely asks him to clarify what they mean. At this point in time, Saitama is comfortable with Genos’ level of intel/knowledge, and is fine asking him about things he doesn’t understand. (aka when the student informs the teacher, and the teacher’s totally cool with it! :D Never has been seen again, ch7′s 20-words-or-less policy!)

Chapter 23, the tank top rookie crushing. Where Saitama bellows to the crowd how he doesn’t care about their approval or whether they hate him. Interestingly, neither the webcomic nor the manga show how the scene resolves (it just cuts to a several day’s time skip), but the anime resolves it by having Genos arrive at the scene to pacify Saitama’s anger with a simple but effective, ‘let’s go home’ (with sustained, sincere eye contact too). This is ALSO where the anime places Genos’ praise from ch20, now as the iconic ‘sunset confession scene’ with Saitama’s ‘you don’t have to butter me up like that’ line as he turns around with a pleased little smile. Here, it’s in direct contrast to how Saitama views the public, because he DOES appreciate and care what Genos thinks of him (no matter how humbly he accepts it). When even one person’s support more than makes up for the combined hypothetical cheers of a whole fanclub or the voices of the public – right now, just Genos’ words are enough for Saitama. :’)

TO BE CONTINUED

[sketcher1994]

Writers’ Questions!

I was tagged by @whereisthefood123 & @aya-eisen ! Thank you!

1.      How many works in progress do you currently have?

Not sure you want to know... Let’s see... I’m re-writing Redeeming Lucy (not changing much, just trying to do a better job of it...)... For Fairy Tail, I’m working on a Bounty Hunter Gajeel multi-chapter fanfic, a one-shot of Levy after Gajeel dying if something had gone differently in the manga (won’t go into detail here), a Levy as a vampire and Gajeel as a half-vampire that doesn’t know about his origins multi-chapter fanfic, His Brother’s Girlfriend’s Neighbour (although I may finally have come up with the next chapter I need to write... There has been months’ of thought on this subject), a Gajevy that I can only barely remember starting (can’t remember what it’s about but apparently I last updated it 30/01/15...oops? Need to re-read this and find out why I stopped...), a Gajevy called One Night Stands... I think I decided Levy was out of character and couldn’t seem to get her back into character... This fanfic has crossed my mind several times and I actually want to try to write it again. Then there’s Part 3 of Parole (Incinerate). There’s also “Sogra”, which is also shelved for the moment, not sure where to go with that... Also a Gajevy (points to anyone who can read the title and realise the setting). On The Hunt. That took a twist and I was torn between two paths and then the severe writer’s block got in the way and nothing could be continued... Ooooh, just come across one I remember starting that doesn’t have a name... I wonder why I didn’t continue it?? I’ll have to re-read it! I’d forgotten about that one... Bother. Ah-hah!! Just came across one that was supposed to be funny... I got sidetracked with His Brother’s Girlfriend’s Neighbour, but it was the inspiration for the first scene of Life on Repeat. And Mountains to Dust: Becoming Purav. As everyone knows. I have one/two chapters left to write and I’m plagued with ideas for a third in the series but the last chapters for BP are really ‘important’ and I’m intimidated by them...and I don’t have anyone to bounce ideas off anymore...

-          13 for Fairy Tail (Gajevy)... Oops?

-          3 for One Piece (Zorobin). I deleted Life of the First Mate... or that would have been 4.

 2.      Do you/would you write fanfiction?

Yes and no? When I’m not suffering from Writer’s Block and have been struck by a sudden flash of inspiration. Or the inspiration has been nagging me and I can’t sleep (or focus). So for 3-5 days a year, yes. I may as well say no... Sorry, guys. One of you actually had me crying about 20min before I started answering this. You’re so lovely! Thank you! I don’t deserve that level of praise!! Just look at the above list for proof!! *sigh*

 3.       Do you prefer paper books or ebooks?

Paper book. Yip, and I’d go so far as to say paperback over hardback. You can store more paperbacks on a shelf than hardbacks. I’ve had to stop buying books because I’ve ran out of shelf space... I REALLY need to get my own house. I plan to line my walls with bookcases. I don’t have that many books yet. I would have if I had all the books I have on my Kindle in paperback. I really appreciate the transportableness of eBooks, but, in my opinion, you just can’t beat a good old paperback! And I take good care of mine, even when I’m putting it in my handbag! They tend to look like they’ve not been opened even after I’ve read them two or three times...?

 4.      When did you start writing?

Well, I liked writing in Primary School (for 5-12 year olds), but I don’t know how old I was? I was that concerned about the cost of notebooks and the idea of someone discovering that I’d actually written something (I had a brother who would torture me for anything he could think of) that I didn’t really start writing until I was in university? I kept all my stories in my head and they’d be constantly playing like a TV screen in my mind, but the stories kept becoming increasingly dark and twisted the more they played? It would also start on a sort of “First Generation”, then onto the next, before ending up onto the grandkids of the first characters and the first characters would be divorced/dead/hate each other... Yeah, this is where Life of the First Mate came from and why I deleted it. Anyway, the first proper thing I wrote was From Amongst the Rafters, which for some unknown reason I still get notifications about people following it? I’m not complaining (I’m very flattered, thank you!), but it is pretty confusing since it’s a good few years old now and marked complete and has been for years? But I guess I am working on Redeeming Lucy again? *shrugs*

 5.       Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

I used to and I really miss them both... I really hope they’re ok, wherever they are right now and that everything is actually pretty good in their lives right now.

 6.      Where is your favourite place to write?

Anywhere I can get comfy without the threat of someone looking over my shoulder! I once started writing this fanfic in a lecture theatre (I was waiting for the lecture to start) and I just couldn’t concentrate because I was so aware that there was someone behind me. It was actually a request I’d received, but to make matters worse (as I’m sure you know, I have really bad anxiety issues so this was hard enough before this point) it was something I really didn’t like the idea of. I don’t like cheating. Try writing smut that involves cheating...while sitting in a lecture theatre surrounded by people you don’t know...and knowing that at least one person can read everything you are writing, not that they’d have even noticed I was writing a cheating-smutty-fanfic... DO NOT DO THAT TO YOURSELF!! IT IS A BAD IDEA!! Unless they just happen to also be a fanfic writer and understand what you’re writing... I honestly still hope that they were, but I doubt they were!

 7.      Favourite childhood book?

Still the same answer – Tiger Tiger (but I absolutely LOVE The Velveteen Rabbit!! We have this fancy version (it has a cardboard slip cover!!!) on the bookcase in the living room... I used to love when my mother read it to me – this was a rare event). I do tend to love a good book that’s set in the past but not actually non-fiction? I tend to get bored with more modern books...? Or I’ll get irritated with the main character. And want to put the book down (I won’t, I have to finish it, even if I despise the main character).

 8.      Writing for fun or publication?

Fun. It doesn’t matter if someone tells me I should try to get something published (a IRL friend told me to see about MtD), I will never think my work is good enough. Too much stress and negative reviews always hit me hard when it’s “just fanfiction”, so imagine how much hate my anxiety tells me my “awful writing” would get if it was published somewhere that wasn’t the usual site(s)?

 9.      Pen and paper or computer?

Computer. I can’t spell (you should see how many spelling mistakes I made writing this...) and I also struggle to get what’s in my head onto paper, so I can spend half an hour on one sentence that just does not say what I want it to. The computer helps me with spelling and I spend a lot less time rubbing out (and I can’t rub through the page if it’s on the computer... You have no idea how many times I’ve rubbed out so much that I’ve actually worn through the paper trying to get one sentence to tell the reader what I want it to...).

 10.      Have you ever taken any writing classes?

Nope. I had a wonderful BETA that kept telling me off for mistakes, so I’ve improved a lot but I’ve never taken an actual class?

 11.      What inspires you to write?

Mostly music. Sometimes what I’ve been reading. Today, I ended up putting Don’t Fear the Reaper on repeat while I was editing Don’t Fear because I wanted to try to make sure I had all the images that had been flying through my head over the last month correct. I have no idea how many times I’ve listened to it today, but my iTunes probably thinks I’m obsessed with it...

 Now, I’m not actually going to tag anyone? To be honest, in the ones that I was tagged in, I was so excited to see certain names – I didn’t even know they were still around! It honestly makes me so happy! But, yeah, I don’t know who’s still around... so feel free to do it and tag me (then I know you’re still around and I’ll sit here beaming like an idiot but not have the courage to say hi and likely freak out if you say hi...)!

[fusionandthings]

Writing a PhD thesis

A grandiose title page.

I finished writing my PhD thesis a few weeks ago. It sort of fizzled out at the end - lots of little, irritating tasks to do even after all the writing it done. Before I started writing, and as I was writing, I often looked for blog posts and other material on how to write a thesis, and so, whilst it’s still fresh in my mind, and in the hope that someone else may benefit or at least be entertained, here are my thoughts:

There seem to be two types of issues when writing a thesis, technical and actually writing it. The technical stuff is a bit drier, so I’ll leave the details of how I edited the text until the end. Spoiler alert - it involves a lot of latex and pythons.

Writing

Drawing images is fun and took up a lot of time.

I started writing in August, and came up with an outline of my thesis in the forms of section headings in chapters. Sergey (my advisor) and I discussed this layout and made some minor changes, but the biggest changes came during the writing process. Often, they were frustrating and set me back by weeks, as Sergey found a different, better way to present the arguments and data. I resented some of this ‘extra’ work at the time, but it definitely made the thesis better overall.

Sergey’s particular trick, which I learned and then began to apply in advance, is to go from a narrative format (I did this experiment, then this experiment, then this experiment) to a textbook format (we know these things, and these things, and these things). This usually means taking data and presenting it in figures in contrast to other data. The text then discusses the similarities and differences. If this seems obvious and straightforwards, then you’re well on the path to being a good scientist! To me it was difficult, because it was only after writing the narrative version that I began to spot the similarities and difference between different data sets.

I didn’t write the chapters in order. On Sergey’s advice, I started with a description of the diagnostics I used, before going on to write about the results, then a discussion of the results, followed by the conclusion. I went then back to write the preliminary work, only including what I needed to buttress the rest of the thesis, before finishing off by writing the introduction and theory section.

I would usually try and make all of the figures I needed as I went along, in contrast to others who have told me they made all the figures they wanted on Monday and then spent the rest of the week writing about them. My problem is that as I wrote I would usually change the figures, and then have to go back and revise the old ones, and so writing about the figures as I went along allowed me to spot these necessary changes and implement them quickly.

I never wrote at home. An office environment is an excellent place to focus, and aside from one attempt to write half a chapter on the Oxford Tube as it careened around some side roads, avoiding an accident on the M40, I rarely wrote outside of an office. Without a mouse and a large screen it’s difficult to do the drawings I need in Illustrator, and without the drawings I have nothing to write about.

For the first four months I had trouble focusing, with interruptions to help in the lab, preparing for conferences and spending too much time reading the news. It took four months therefore to write three chapters out of seven. I returned from my Christmas break and surveyed the path ahead of me. My funding runs out on March 1st, and I have four chapters to write in two months. Shit.

Look at that death stare - Sibelius probably wrote a thesis at some point. By fi:Daniel Nyblin (1856–1923) - What We Hear in Music, Anne S. Faulkner, Victor Talking Machine Co., 1913., Public Domain

So I got serious. To drown out the noise I made long playlists of symphonic music (mostly Sibelius and Bruckner) which I would listen to without pause. At lunch I’d eat at my desk, watching cartoons online. I worked a strict 8:15 am to 5 pm for six weeks, bouldering three nights a week and slightly alarming my office mates and colleagues. In six days I had first drafts of three chapters, and set my sights on the final one. Sergey was slightly overwhelmed by the amount of work I was asking him to look through, and initially just skimmed through to look at the figures, which as you are gathering, are a major part of my work.

I began to relax and enjoy writing again, but I decided to keep the pressure on and finish as soon as possible so that I didn’t have to think about it any more. I was almost entirely done by 24th Jan, eighteen days after I got back to work. All that was left was a few days of ensuring copyright notices were appended, checking spelling in the bibliography and writing the acknowledgements.

Writing a thesis was a lot harder than I had anticipated. Initially, I thought that it would be fun or at least tolerable, and the fact that everyone else I had spoken to thought otherwise just indicated they didn’t have the right attitude. This was spectacularly naive, as I began to fully appreciate within the first month, where I would find myself drinking more and more low quality espresso in a desperate attempt to convert caffeine into words. I can’t really think of a way to make the experience more pleasant - certainly several people I’ve spoken to have had the same pattern of taking ages on the first few chapters and finishing up the last few very quickly, so perhaps that’s a consolation to bear in mind.

Technical Stuff

I wrote my thesis in Latex, one file per chapter, using includes. This means quicker compile times as you only need to compile each chapter at any time. I used Daniel Wagner’s template to ensure my margins etc. were compliant, and I chose Palatino as a font so that my math text matched nicely. I used one sentence per line to make error finding easier, and this made it straightforwards to use git to manage my thesis (private repo on github). Having version control like git was really useful, especially when reworking large parts of the text.

Figures were done using Illustrator, with one file per chapter and using artboards the width of my text. Latex can include specific pages of a PDF as figures, so I produced one PDF per chapter. Figures with data were done solely in python with matplotlib, and I had several long jupyter notebooks with all the necessary code. These figures were usually saved as PDFs unless PNG gave a drastically smaller filesize. Matplotlib was set to output figures the width of the text, which meant that I could specific eg. size 10 font and know it would exactly match that in the text.

Landscape triptych - to get the best viewing side, this fills an entire A4 page.

I spent a while writing a neat script to handle figures that fill entire landscape page. The latex file can either produce a print version, in which the figure is rotated onto a portrait page, or a digital version in which the page is rotated (a lot easier for reading on a screen!).

I took a while playing with Biblatex to get [Surname, YEAR] as the citation key, which was DEFINITELY WORTH IT. I also defined plenty of macros for things like x=X mm or JxB which kept cropping up. If I’d done this earlier on I would’ve saved a lot of time.

I definitely learned a lot whilst writing this thesis about Latex, Illustrator, Python and Matplotlib. Looking back there are quite a few things I’d do differently, but making those mistakes was part of the process and probably character building or some tosh like that.

I’m not submitting my thesis for another few weeks as I’d stop being a student and lose my lab insurance before starting my post doc in March, so for now I just help out in the lab and pretend that I’m a post doc already.