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~ A random repository of how-to-write and geekery, with an occasional snippet of accidental wisdom.

The Upstairs Archives

Tag Archives: the avengers

Silence Will Fall: A Parody

13 Tuesday Oct 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 28 Comments

Tags

completed stories, doctor who, fun stuff, humor, marvel, parody, short stories, the avengers, thor

Because no Internet life is complete without a parody of Mary Sue or badfic!

Enjoy! ;-D

Silence Will Fall

Xoehemina Wraithlight Spickl the Third rolled over and grinned at her true love. “Wakey wakey, Lokes!” she said in a sing-song nasal voice pitched at exactly the same key as nails on a chalk board. It was like birdsong and music all rolled into one—that is, if said bird was a crow with a five-year cold and a pack-a-day smoker and the music was played by a beginner violinist with a squint from London to New York.

Loki sat up gracefully on his elbow and smirked at his bride. “Good morning, my love,” he said. “Don’t bother to rise just yet… here, let me go and bring you breakfast in bed…”

Suddenly, an odd, wheezing hydraulic sound could be heard outside the window. Xoehemina perked up at the sound. She was a beautiful vision in off-white as she ran out onto the veranda like a flat-footed ostrich or an elephant with eczema.

“My soulmate cometh!” she proclaimed, waving her arms in a dramatic gesture like a chicken with hiccups and fell flat on her cute little backside. Loki helped her to her feet.

“You can’t mean this,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. Xoehemina turned.

“Lol, wut?”

“You can’t seriously be breaking up with me!” Loki’s voice rose to a crescendo and tears rolled down over his nose. Xoehemina turned around to pat his cheek as the TARDIS materialized before them.

“Oh, pish tush. It’s a time machine. I could be back yesterday!” she said cheerfully, snapping her fingers. The TARDIS made an angry, protesting sound as its doors flew open with a violent crash, but the sentient ship was unable to voice her annoyance to the fans and as such was frequently abused, like so. Xoehemina ignored the TARDIS’ protests as she waltzed gaily inside. She popped open her old pocket watch. “I left my hearts in Gallifrey.”

The doors flew shut behind her, the TARDIS making another angry sound. Xoehemina turned around and almost bumped into a tall, thin man who was looking at her, one eyebrow raised in a potentially frightening manner. Xoehemina fell flat on her backside again, spreading her arms wide. “Theta sugar! It’s me, your childhood crush Ashkanakxygr!”

The Doctor frowned at her. “Get off my TARDIS.”

“But, baby…” Ashkanakxygr pleaded, opening her violet eyes wide like muddy lagoons of stagnant seaweed. The Doctor pursed his lips.

“I have never met you in my life before. Leave my poor TARDIS alone and get out.”

“You have to remember me!” Ashkanakxygr shrieked. The Doctor flinched at the piercing sound. Ashkanakxygr was beyond paying attention. “We went to school together. We kissed for the first time when the moons were shining over the red mountains. My heart was broken forever when you ran away. Don’t you remember that?”

“None of it,” the Doctor said with finality. “You’re not a Time Lord. I would know you. I do not. For the last time, get off my TARDIS.”

“Pyrdon baby bear…” Ashkanakxygr began. She didn’t finish. The Doctor had pushed her out onto the surface of a barren planet, there to wail her heart out for all eternity. (Did I mention she was immortal?)

Back in his cell on Asgard, Loki snickered. Thor shuddered as he walked past his brother’s cell.

“Seriously, brother. Get a life.”

“But manipulating these half-witted mortals is so amusing,” Loki drawled. Suddenly, he reached down to his belt pouch. “Sorry, message waiting on my magic tablet.”

On the blank surface appeared a short message.

Loki. If you send another of your crowd after me ever again, I am letting Ace loose on you.

Loki cackled and turned back to his mischief. Thor went upstairs, wrote a quick note of apology, and gave it to Huginn to deliver. The raven would see that it reached the Doctor’s hand—eventually.

“What was that thing?” Donna asked distastefully as the Doctor washed and sanitized his hands for the fourth time.

“Maria Susare, commonly known as a Mary Sue, for some reason. They’re ancient creatures, pre-dating Time itself. They normally inhabit the Void and unknown parts of deep, empty space, where they prey on the unwary, but once in a while one will get lost and become every hero’s worst nightmare.” The Doctor shuddered violently, but caught himself. “They sometimes cause innocent, everyday people like us to behave contrary to our nature, and they often butt in where they’re not wanted. They’re parasites, and in their true form they are monstrous creatures with horns and teeth the length of my finger, claws and hideous bat wings which they use to disguise their horrible pink-and-black mottled skin. They’re horrible creatures that are only half-intelligent, fixated on certain ideas and unable to form new ones. They can not be reasoned with. A few brave hunters sometimes seek them out to slay them, but they must have found new sources of food, or they would have vanished from the face of the universe by now…” The Doctor grimaced in distaste. “This one was… rather… amorous.” Donna almost laughed at the Doctor’s discomfort, but quickly returned to seriousness.

“Well, what should we do about it, space boy?”

“We find their latest food source…” the Doctor’s voice deepened to an ominous drawl.

“And hope they aren’t already addicted.”

Archivist of Selay’uu’s Journal: Summer, Day 49

04 Tuesday Aug 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Tales from Selay'uu, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 406 Comments

Tags

arthurian legends, bbc merlin, completely random posts, doctor who, doomyness, humor, long rants, long rants that do not technically belong to me, marvel, randomness, selay'uu, steven moffat, the avengers, the Thing, thor

“Try the… thing!”

“I have tried it, Master Doctor!”

“Then try the other thing! I don’t know how it works! Just… poke it, I guess.”

“Why do you not use the mallet you do when your ship slips off course?”

“Why don’t you?”

“I fear I might accidentally demolish it if I did.”

“…touche.”

I opened the door to my room, only to find that it led not into the hallway, but into somewhere else. The Doctor was running circles around an object that could only be described as a Thing, while Thor was gingerly prodding it. It was shaking dramatically from side to side, glinting like a disco ball and buzzing ineffectually, like an annoyed insect.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. Thor looked up apologetically, while the Doctor opened his mouth irately and went off into a long rant or complaint (it didn’t sound much like an explanation) about rogue Time Lords, King Arthur’s second-best hat, a green-eyed basilisk, a carrot and a pigeon.*

“If you can’t get it to work,” I said practically, “and you don’t know what it is or what it does, why not just destroy it?”

On second thought, maybe not so practical–but I had had work (not the fun kind, the kind that brings in money and is miserable) and was in a vicious mood.

The Doctor opened his mouth and shut it again. “That just might work,” he said dubiously.

I looked around. “Also, why is my bedroom in the TARDIS?”

“I think the TARDIS likes you,” said Thor, bringing Mjolnir down on the Thing with a resounding clang. The Doctor muttered something that sounded suspiciously like “traitor”.

It also sounded like the TARDIS was laughing in the background.

We never did find out what the Thing was for.

It was probably a dummy and did not do anything. It is also likely that the Thing was constructed by the Master (who we put in a looney bin) as a chew toy. Or a cuddle beastie.

Who knows?

(It was a very confusing day.)


*Please don’t ask me to tell you how those particular objects are related. One: I am not Steven Moffat. Two: I doubt even Steven Moffat can understand the Doctor when he starts babbling like that. Three: I also doubt that even Steven Moffat can explain the “three things and a lizard” comment, so you should definitely NOT ask me.

Author’s Note: Who wants Thor to be a companion on Doctor Who? *raises hand* (Weeeell, any of the Avengers, really. Except maybe Tony, because he’d try to take the TARDIS apart, and that would make the Doctor really mad. Maybe. I don’t actually know.)

Writing Prompts

01 Wednesday Jul 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 136 Comments

Tags

bbc merlin, bbc sherlock, captain america, doctor who, fanfiction, fun stuff, marvel, plot prompts, star wars, the avengers

I found a grape when I went to bed last night. (Thanks a lot, Harold.)

Anyway, that was actually my sister’s doing. We were watching Doctor Who and sitting on my bed and she was eating grapes. (Fortunately, there were no grape stains, thanks for asking 😉 )

But I had an idea.

It’s not something I usually do.

Okay, here are some prompts for fanfiction and/or short stories!

First of all, the universal fandom prompt:

Character you don’t often write. Random household object. Random cameo by anyone (from that fandom, real life, or other fandom, I don’t care which.) Love it, hate it, take it, or leave it?

Go!

Bruce stared tiredly at the salad spinner. It might have been staring back at him, but he wasn’t certain. If it had eyes, he couldn’t tell where they were.

Behind him, the kitchen door opened and closed. The footfalls were evenly spaced, light, but with weight behind each one. Bruce rubbed his eyes. It was just too late for this.

“I never did get the point of that contraption,” Steve Rogers said, nodding at the spinner. “Why crank something up or pop batteries in when you can just…” He mimed tossing something into the air. Bruce cracked a smile. Instantly, Steve honed in on the tiredness emanating from his fellow Avenger. “Doctor Banner… are you all right?”

“Fine. I just need to sleep for a week.” Steve half-smiled, but his concern was still obvious. It was… nice, for a change. “But I can’t yet. Delicate experiment, hours setting it up, still not quite done… Talk to me. Where have you been?”

“West coast.” Steve leaned back against the counter top; it creaked softly. “Some maniac thought that he could ‘accelerate to the next stage of evolution’ by just setting off a bigger and better bomb. Believe it or not, we actually pulled out the inner workings of the bomb–after it was deactivated–and locked him inside the casing until the cops got there. Tony offered me to stay the night in Malibu, but…” The helplessness in the younger man’s eyes pulled at Bruce’s soul. Steve and Tony were friends–he would even go so far as to say that, if they had been switched as children, they would have grown into each other–but that very likeness sometimes drove them apart. They were both stubborn, with quick tempers and often said or did things in anger that they would regret later. Steve was struggling to connect, quite literally taken aback while he tried–probably futilely–to think things out.

“I’m sorry.” Bruce sighed. He had been running too long, and while he had been away, emotion and human relationships had gotten even more complicated.

“It’s not your fault.” Steve said.

Back at the Battle of New York, just after the end, Bruce remembered looking at Steve and seeing him, twenty-seven years old, and looking very lost. Next to the rest of them, he was practically a kid.

“It’s too early in the morning to be philosophical about a salad spinner,” he said.

Steve laughed.

Now for the actual fandom prompts!

Star Wars:

Before the prequels: Obi-Wan has a rough night (is the kid sick or just not sleeping?) and Qui-Gon is trying to ignore the television in the background.

Obi-Wan doesn’t like these new shoes.

Siri is going undercover as “Miss Corellia”. Obi-Wan tries on her heels in an attempt to cheer her up but probably also succeeds in incurring injuries.

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon don’t always understand each other. Of course, that’s only to be expected when their minds work on entirely different wavelengths.

Prequel Era: Anakin notices something he didn’t before. Padme lights candles. Obi-Wan writes. (Any or all of the above. Is it wrong that I love the thought of Obi-Wan with a pen and ink?)

Original Trilogy: Han makes no sense when he has a concussion. Leia hates it when people give her new lingerie pieces. Luke/Books OTP (‘nough said.) Any or all.

Avengers/Marvel:

Hair cut. Reading aloud. Cooking. Generally being domestic.

Sam Wilson being awesome.

Steve Rogers being a dork (because let’s face it, he is. He is representative of the best side of America. ^_^)

Tony Stark inventing a new language (which only Pepper can understand.)

Coulson plus hat.

Loki falls down the stairs. And sulks. And turns himself into a cat.

All the Avengers dress up as each other for a day.

Any or all, whichever you like.

(Please note: I like adding Peter Parker to the Avengers, especially when he brings out Steve’s little-kid side *winkwink*)

Doctor Who:

The Doctor has an allergy (otherwise known as the Doctor needs a doctor.)

Rose Tyler makes her own jewelry. Turns out that her mad skills with needle-nose pliers come in handy.

Mickey Smith is not a tin robot dog. He’s the only sane person aboard the TARDIS.

(This one’s for Iris!) Donna Noble is not having a good day. The Doctor tries to cheer her up, but (predictably) things don’t go as he had planned.

Window boxes are the third item on the list of things the Doctor loves about Planet Earth.

the Doctor/Owl City music OTP.

Merlin:

Merlin has a cold. This has bizarre effects on his magic. (As usual, Gaius is looking into it.)

Gaius is feeling down. Merlin tries to cheer him up. Naturally, pandemonium ensues.

Merlin cheering up Gwen/Guinevere.

Merlin is Gwen’s wingman.

Merlin ships Arwen (for those of you who haven’t heard the term before, that’s Arthur/Gwen).

Merlin vs. the Orange.

Merlin vs. the Grapefruit.

Gwaine doing ANYTHING (because the man is ridiculous and an incorrigible flirt. Seriously, he’s like they recycled Captain Jack Harkness and then added an extra gallon of ridiculous.)

Gwaine/Food OTP.

Sherlock:

John takes up photography. Mrs. Hudson gets a new photo album. Sherlock re-invents color film.

Sherlock has a new hobby.

John can cook.

John knocks Sherlock out cold.

A goat tries to eat part of Sherlock’s coat.

Lestrade is a secret musician.

*rubs hands together* There we go!

Okay, if these prompts inspire you, then please send me a link to your finished pieces–I’d love to see what you come up with!

Ready. Set.

GO!

“Big Hero Six” Review!

09 Monday Mar 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

big hero six, character development, disney, heroes, marvel, reviews, the avengers, the incredibles, villains, world building

Last week on Sunday, I saw Big Hero Six for the first time. And while it didn’t completely blow me away, instantaneously, like some other films I’ve seen, I thought it was a pretty good movie.

And then, I was sick on Monday and for most of the week. And while I was sick I re-watched it, and went WOW!

Okay, from now on, there will be SPOILERS, so if you have not seen it yet, consider yourself warned.

Sometimes, it seems like Disney movies are always either hit or miss. Sure, they’ve done some movies that are okay, but mostly they either smash or bomb. And just to be kind to Disney, I’m qualifying this as a Disney movie even though technically it’s also Marvel (though it was made by Disney Animation, not Marvel Studios.)

This movie is, first and foremost, a family movie. So much of it is driven by the dynamics of the family, and the movie benefits. Hiro’s relationships with his brother and aunt (Tadashi more than Cass) have lasting impacts on his actions, decisions, and his entire life. This would make it like Disney’s other animated superhero classic, The Incredibles, but the family dynamics in Big Hero Six are different. Rather than being about a more mainstream family that has drifted apart over time and must find out how to come back together, Big Hero Six is about two brothers and an aunt who are very close knit, and then has one member torn from them. As such, it’s somewhat darker and more of a drama than a family comedy.

I had had part of the movie spoiled for me, but I also knew it had to be without receiving any spoilers, but I was pleasantly surprised to see that they didn’t kill off Tadashi almost as soon as they’d introduced him, instead giving him his own hopes and dreams and making him a hero in his own right. More power to you, Big Hero Six.

This movie deals with some pretty heavy stuff for a Disney movie. Personal loss, grief, dark sides, what people are willing to do to other people to get what they want–Hiro is no angel, and at one point his grief drives him to take away what makes Baymax unique, what makes Baymax himself, in order to get back at the villain. However, I was delighted once again–at the end of the movie, Hiro redeems himself, following in his brother’s footsteps to save the daughter of the man who had been trying to kill them.

Now, on to the characters!

I absolutely loved the characters. They were diverse (not just racially), and well-fleshed-out. Wasabi is probably my favorite, though I loved all of them. The filmmakers did an amazing job, especially with Baymax. His almost glitch-y repetition of words and phrases like “Tadashi is here” actually made him seem more human. Also, though his played-for-laughs misunderstandings of metaphor and figures of speech and his expression of the sound of the explosion for a fist bump are funny, they’re even more endearing.

I thought it was amazing, how well Hiro’s grief was expressed by the writers and actors, and the moment when he takes away Baymax’s personality to get what he wants (revenge on Callahan) was gritty and tragic. I am so impressed with how well they did this, and still more impressed by Hiro’s redemptive act, mirroring his brother’s sacrifice earlier in the movie. Too often, people forget to add the necessary balance (aka, adding the redemption to counter the transgression in a hero or keeping a sympathetic villain villainous by having him violate something sacred to the reader), leading to an unbalanced story or an antihero who is completely unlovable, or worse things. Such as a villain who doesn’t drive the story forward because, I don’t know, he’s not really a freaking villain!?! (Sorry, that’s my pet peeve.)
Speaking of villains, while I pretty much predicted who the villain was going to be about halfway between the beginning and the big reveal, I still think Callahan is one of the most compelling villains I have ever seen. Think Inigo Montoya gone badly wrong, out for revenge for his daughter rather than his dad, and you have Callahan. It’s one of the best motivations for a good man gone bad that I can think of, and is compellingly done. One of the quotes, though, was disappointing to me; when talking about Tadashi’s death, Callahan exclaims “Then that was his fault!” or something like that. I thought he cared about Tadashi and would have been more satisfied if Callahan had showed that he, too, felt guilty about Tadashi’s death. Maybe he blamed Krei for that, too? It seems like a waste of potential for character development.
When I first heard about the premise of this movie, I thought it sounded a lot like Iron Man. However, it’s not like Iron Man at all. While the premises (making bionic suits to fight villains) are very similar, the execution is different, and Big Hero Six is entirely innovative. Microbots? Tony Stark has nothing on them. Also, aren’t you glad they didn’t make any Jericho jokes? (Because the Jericho missile played the same role in Iron Man that the microbots did in Big Hero Six.) While there are parallels between the movies, Big Hero Six doesn’t feel like an Iron Man ripoff. In my opinion, Big Hero Six has even more heart (though, about the same amount of style) as Iron Man.
The visuals of this movie are incredible, with a more sleek feel than Iron Man, and the team dynamics are similar, though distinct from, The Avengers. It really feels like a near future sci-fi story, but is realistic enough that you can believe it could happen any day. The setting, San Fransokyo, is actually in California, but it takes place in an alternate history where, after the 1906 earthquake, San Francisco was largely rebuilt by Japanese immigrants, creating a unique, streamlined, Asian-American, city-of-the-future culture. It is so beautiful and believable, you’ll want to take your next vacation there and then be surprised to hear that it’s not a real place.
However, I do have a few issues with elements in this movie. For instance, how did Callahan live after his presumed death? Did he have a separate bank account set up to allow him to lay low after faking his death? In which case, does that mean that the fire was set by Callahan, or was it just a “lucky” accident? Also, Callahan’s use of the microbots seemed a little lackadaisical–if he’s such a robotics genius, why doesn’t he innovate something new to use with them, or figure out a new way to use them, or play around with them a little more?
For another thing, I would have loved to see more of the titular team… you know, acting as a team. Mostly, we just see them operating on their own, coordinating their attacks, but otherwise just working alone, which was sad for me. The teamwork in Avengers was what elevated it above all other movies of its genre, in my opinion, but Big Hero Six is, out of necessity, different. While Avengers always was a team movie, with an equal focus on each character–it was essentially a journey with six equal protagonists–Hiro Hamada is clearly the main focus of Big Hero Six. All his teammates are supporting characters, and while they are autonomous, they aren’t given equal screen time, like the Avengers were. Still, that doesn’t mean that all the characters couldn’t have done more team stuff. (I did like it, when early in the movie, they ended out cancelling out each others’ work because they weren’t being a team. Way to go, Disney, showing that teamwork is necessary!)
Other than that, I did see the Big Plot Twist coming from a mile away, but maybe that’s just because I’m an author and I write Big Plot Twists. Good grief, I’m practically the unchallenged queen of Big Plot Twists! Still, Disney, you’re getting predictable, and I like to be surprised.
Overall, though, my experience was all positive, though, due to the issues I mentioned, I can’t give it five out of five. So I’ll settle for giving it four and a half out of five stars.
(On a side note, if you must cross your crossovers, forget the Big Four (also known as the Rise of the Brave Tangled Dragons); I want to see Rise of the Guardians, How to Train Your Dragon, and Big Hero Six crossovers!!!)
Big Hero Six, ladies and gentlemen–the best animated superhero movie since The Incredibles.

Hours of Men and Monsters

27 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 46 Comments

Tags

bbc sherlock, completed stories, completely random posts, fanfiction, marvel, short stories, the avengers

And now, it’s here. Two-thousand-plus words of world-saving and humor, for your enjoyment! (Also, I think the Avengers already know that Coulson’s still alive in this one… um, I don’t know why, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was Tony’s doing.) Just in time to make the deadline for proverbs31teen’s Super-Duper Fanfiction Crossover Challenge! 😀

Enjoy!


Hours of Men and Monsters

                “Mycroft, you know I always hate you, but today I want to murder you even more than usual.” Sherlock glared through the frosted glass in between the living room and dining room-cum-kitchen at the Avenger sitting uncomfortably on a couch that was not designed for a man his size. Fortunately, the man couldn’t see him. What really got to Sherlock, though, was how much Mrs. Hudson seemed to appreciate the superhero’s manners. No sooner had he walked in the door than he proceeded to charm the landlady.

“Sherlock, perhaps next time it would be better if you were to simply not interfere in my business,” Mycroft scolded. Sherlock heard it and promptly decided to ignore it. “Fury is a law unto himself. If I had my way, the men assigned to your detail would be much less… conspicuous.” Much as Sherlock disdained most of Mycroft’s associates, this Fury character must indeed be quite daring to cross Mycroft in one of these subtle ways. And it was only according to the man’s abominable sense of humor that he assigned this particular Avenger, Mycroft didn’t add, but it would have not taken a Holmes to deduce that he was thinking it. Apparently, Fury, whoever Fury was, had been making a point to Mycroft.

“I will do all in my power to break custody, Mycroft,” Sherlock vowed and cut Mycroft off, deciding as an afterthought to lock Mycroft out of his mobile for a while as a further precaution. That done, he re-entered the living room and stalked across to his pile of case files, pointedly ignoring the man on the couch. This didn’t seem to bother the superhero; not that it would. This man had been fighting off what was apparently an alien invasion mere months before. That said, it seemed like overkill to dispatch him for a simple protection detail.

Mrs. Hudson came back with tea, serving Sherlock as well as the American despite Sherlock’s patent displeasure with her usual impossible calm. After she had gone, Captain America spoke up suddenly. His voice was a low baritone, with the startling quality of an unusual pitch range and a flat Yankee twang. “I don’t trust your brother, Mr. Holmes.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.

“Does anyone? I’m not to be trusted, either,” he added for his bodyguard’s benefit. The captain coughed noncommittally.

“Noted.” He continued to work carefully on a drawing. It was only Sherlock’s boredom that made him curious about the artwork, but he reined in his curiosity, determined not to show any interest whatsoever. He was Not Pleased.

A moment later, the superhero’s head came up, as if in response to some sound that, Sherlock noted with displeasure, was inaudible to him. A second later, the front door opened and shut and John’s awkward, still-slightly-lopsided-on-bad-days walk was heard coming up the stairs. The superhero appeared relaxed on the surface, but he was posed in the peculiar stance of a soldier ready to leap into action at any second. Sherlock had seen John adopt that posture any number of times. A moment later, Sherlock’s flatmate and assistant in all criminal investigations opened the door. John took it all with his usual calm. “Did one of your nonexsistent friends finally turn up or do we have a client?” he asked, shrugging out of his coat, but not setting it down or hanging it up. Sherlock frowned.

“Neither. Mycroft seems to think I need protection.”

“Last night was a bit much,” John said, remonstrating with him.

“Mycroft has no respect for me,” Sherlock announced.

“You refer to him as your ‘archenemy,’” John remarked. “I think he’s entitled.” He turned to the superhero. “I’m John Watson,” he said. Rather than shaking his hand right away, the tall man saluted.

“Steve Rogers, sir,” he said. “Captain.” John blinked and saluted back.

“I’m retired,” John said. “You knew I was a soldier.” Rogers shrugged, awkwardly.

“I’ve been in London before, used to spend quite a bit of time around your special forces and SIS… I mean intelligence…” He stammered slightly at the end. “It’s just been… a while,” he concluded, lamely. Sherlock made a face at the superhero’s back.

“Sherlock, have you done anything productive today?” John asked, ignoring the stranger for a moment, taking it in his stride, like he normally did.

“There’s nothing productive to do,” Sherlock complained, throwing himself on the couch. He watched with interest for a moment as Rogers flinched involuntarily and reached, inconspicuously, for one ear. Barely touching it, he reached into his pocket instead and hurriedly sent off a text.

“Mr. Holmes, I hope you’ll pardon the profanity—” John snorted—“but what the hell have you been getting into?” As if in response to the sudden words, a gun went off in the street below. Sherlock’s head came up. Before he could do anything, though, Rogers flinched again and actually touched the concealed earpiece this time. “Barton, speak clearly. I can’t tell what you’re trying to say.” Both Sherlock and John froze. John looked both irritated and dismayed, as if he’d been hoping for a peaceful evening, for once. Sherlock was more curious. “All right, all right! Stop shouting!” Listening again. Then, Rogers hissed an imprecation through his teeth. He turned to Sherlock and John. “Gentlemen, it seems my backup has found trouble more quickly than I gave him credit for. We’re going to have to go take care of it.” Sherlock brightened up. John shook his head, but went for his sidearm all the same. Rogers lifted a large, circular—was that actually a shield?—from behind the sofa. Sherlock had thought, hearing about the Battle of Manhattan, that the shield was just a gimmick, but now it was clear it wasn’t so. From the way the superhero held it, it was actually a weapon, and one he knew how to use. It looked slightly out of place, the silvery red and white bands and blue field with its star, with his civilian outfit of mostly navy, white and gray, but it looked anything but silly. Sherlock moved toward the front door, but Rogers caught the sleeve of his coat and pulled him with almost gingerly gentleness toward the fire escape instead. The next several minutes were a rapid journey through the alleys and back-streets of London. Rogers’ knowledge of London’s backways seemed to even rival Sherlock’s. Not long later, they arrived at a run-down district. Rogers slipped his phone out of his pocket and nodded, once, grimly. Any trace of the slightly-awkward young man of only minutes before was gone; now, he was a soldier, entirely focused on the mission. He looked at Sherlock.

“In a few minutes, we’re going to go in there, get Hawkeye, and blow those scum to kingdom come,” he said. “I’d ask you to stay back, Mr. Holmes, but I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t listen to me, and I generally make it a point not to give orders when people are just going to disobey them.” There was a brief flash of humor in the American’s gray eyes, then he walked briskly toward the entrance to the empty warehouse.

“How cliché can they make it?” John muttered. Rogers cocked his head, as if listening to something on his earpiece. Then he reached down, grabbing the padlock and slipping two fingers on each hand into the metal loop. He pulled straight out and the loop bent, then simply shattered. He slid the door open a crack, looking in.

“Let’s move,” he said.

It was eerily silent inside. The warehouse was almost entirely empty, gutted. It had been recently swept and dusted, though, as if waiting for sale to a new owner. For such a big man, Captain Rogers could move with astoundingly little sound. They kept to the shadows, hoping to remain undetected, as Rogers scanned the area.

“Five men on the upper level. Two below. The two down here are supposed to be keeping watch. If we can slip past them, though, we’ll have the upper hand. We’ll get to the upper level, free Hawkeye, and then take them out.” That said, he shot off into a flat run, entirely silent and completely unnoticed by the men who Sherlock could just barely make out. He sprang to the upper level, using hand- and foot-holds that most people would not have been able to find or utilize. Tucking into a tight roll, he flipped over the bannister and slammed the shield into the back of someone’s head. Sherlock sprinted to the stairs, followed by the doctor. Rogers had grabbed a knife from someone else’s sheath and cut up through the cuffs on the man kneeling on the floor. The blade snapped with the strain, but it did the trick, freeing the other man, who leaped to his feet, swiping the legs out from under one of his former captors. Sherlock swept out the gun and shot one of the men in the shoulder; John’s revolver cracked and another fell, clutching his leg. All the hits were non-lethal, through unspoken consent. If Mycroft chose to clean up the mess later, that was his affair.

Between the four of them, they took down all but one of the seven men. The last of the enemy footsoldiers stood awkwardly, half-on and half-off the stairs, one leg over the banister in his nervousness and eagerness to escape. “Sir, please dismount the banister,” Rogers shouted at him. John cleared his throat, to cover up a laugh. “Last warning.” The man pulled out a gun, shakily. Hawkeye had a bow now, an arrow on the string.

“Want me to put one through his eye, sir?”

“I’d prefer the hand, but he’ll get a concussion either way,” Rogers said. The man on the railing tried to bring the gun up, but Rogers threw the shield in a single smooth, powerful motion. It ricocheted off the man’s chest and knocked him from his perch. Without batting an eye, the soldier caught it easily. “Idiot.” John snorted again. Rogers glanced at him. “What?”

“You know, you sounded exactly like Coulson for a moment there,” Hawkeye remarked, quietly.

“Are you sure it’s not the other way around and Coulson sounds like me? Because that might make more sense, considering the time displacement.” Hawkeye scowled at him. Rogers gave the other superhero an innocent look. “What? You said you liked mind-benders.”

“It’s a wonder the Avengers ever get anything done,” Sherlock mumbled as he fired off a text at Mycroft. John cleared his throat and shot him a meaningful look.

“We’ll probably end up hanging around for a few days, but that’s only a formality,” Hawkeye—or Clint Barton—informed the detective and doctor over tea, later. “And to assuage your brother’s paranoia.”

“You do realize that Mycroft probably has the flat bugged, right?” John said quietly. Rogers shrugged.

“I refused to turn up at my own Medal of Honor ceremony last time I was in London, despite all the brass and politicians who were planning on coming. I don’t care what they think or want to hear, I’m always going to stick with the honest truth, no matter how much they hate me for it. And Clint would prod them just to see them fume. Trust me, doctor; neither of us cares who overhears what we say. While SHIELD sponsors the Avengers, we’re technically independent, which means that the WSC doesn’t have us in their pocket. I’m sure that doesn’t bother Mycroft Holmes, because he can predict us, but it does rather put a nettle in the trousers of certain of the other members.”

“It’s almost frightening how good a judge of character you are,” John remarked. Rogers made a face.

“It’s a necessary part of being a leader.”

“Hey, at least he won’t tell you where you’ve been just by the pebble stuck in your shoe,” Barton chimed in. “Though he is a pain at other times. He tries to make the rest of us eat—” he shuddered—“healthy food. And exercise. And do stuff like that.”

“You’re just a lazy donkey, Barton,” Rogers teased. Barton leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head, and whistled.

“I’m good at what I do,” he said. “I don’t care about what I don’t.” Rogers looked at John.

“I think you know what I have to put up with. I stepped into their last handler’s place as the official babysitter for five superheroes.” John gave him a conspiratorial look.

“I’m surprised you don’t have gray hair lurking somewhere,” he said, obviously actually directed at Sherlock.

“It might be hard to find,” Rogers mused, tongue in cheek, as he ran a hand through his dirty-blond hair. Barton poked his team leader in the side.

“You’re only twenty-six,” he accused.

“Almost twenty-seven,” Rogers protested.

“Details, details,” Clint waved his hand airily. “You’re still the baby of the team.”

“I am not!”

John grinned. Sherlock gave him the not-quite-smiling look that said I’m-actually-laughing-now-but-you’ve-never-heard-me-so-you-wouldn’t-know.

Later on, when John typed up this strange case of the globetrotting supervillains, he posed the question on everyone’s minds.

In the time of gods and monsters, what is the worth of a man?

                Whatever he makes it.


What say you, readers mine? Did it make the cut? Would you like to see an expanded version? Please tell me in the comments. 🙂

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

The Brother Code

20 Friday Feb 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 24 Comments

Tags

completed stories, fanfiction, marvel, short stories, the avengers

Umm… yes. Mostly because there are not nearly enough Cap/everyone friendship fics out there.

So, without further ado, Steve and Clint becoming friends. If Steve seems a bit clingy or Clint seems to adjust faster, it’s because I see this as Steve wanting to distance himself but can’t (I mean, the guy’s true superpower is getting people to work together!) and Steve’s simple presence helping Clint to recover from being brainwashed. Steve just wants company–I guess part of it is he wants his best friend back, but he’s lost just about everyone and everything that he left his mark on or was even familiar, so he’s kind of starved for affection right now, but doesn’t want to admit it. Even when he’s so alone, he can’t stop offering to help others as well… *sniffle* When did these idiots first waltz in and start ruining my life!? *sigh*

There’s precious little plot to this one, it’s all flow.

Sorry.

Here we go.

The Brother Code

                Two weeks after Loki, when they were all back together again for a while, hanging out in Tony’s tower, was when Clint noticed it. Whenever they split up, Steve tended to turn up around where Clint was. The captain never actually talked to him much; he was just there, reading or drawing or sometimes destroying a punching bag in the gym while Clint practiced his marksmanship. When the Avengers were all together in one group, Steve would gravitate toward Clint. It wasn’t as if Steve was doing it deliberately—if anything, Clint thought the captain looked slightly lost whenever Clint would be hanging out alone and suddenly Steve was there too—but it still was odd. And sometimes, when Steve thought he was alone, Clint would notice that the man’s gray eyes were straying around the room, as if he was looking for someone who wasn’t there. However, the feeling of not-being-alone, around someone other than Natasha who wouldn’t judge and wouldn’t even require vocalization of him much, was nice and Clint allowed it to go on.

A week later, they were still training and working together—to be prepared for the next time the world would need saving. Clint went for a jog and met Steve running in the park. It wasn’t planned, but they went running together anyway. Afterwards, they stopped by a corner ice cream shoppe (Clint hadn’t expected Cap to be a butter pecan praline kind of guy), and the girl behind the counter asked, “Are you two brothers?” Clint didn’t have to look at the captain to know that Steve was just as surprised as he was.

“No…” Steve said, still confused.

“We’re coworkers,” Clint put in. The girl smiled and said “That’s nice” and paid no further attention to the two of them. Clint finished his two scoops of pistachio in a waffle cone and threw the cone liner cup away. They headed back to the tower in silence. Not awkward, but thoughtful.

As they mounted the stairs (all six flights) from the office levels up towards the secured levels, Clint asked, “Why have you been hanging around me?” Out of curiosity. Nothing more. Steve looked surprised, unfocused for a moment.

“I guess I have been,” he said, shrugging. “I don’t know.” He shook his head. “I just miss the company, I guess.” Clint suddenly realized the reason.

“Bucky Barnes,” he said. The Captain glanced at him, surprised. “It’s in all the history books. Any American history teacher worth his salt knows that Bucky Barnes and Steve Rogers were closer than brothers. It was what? The day after he died? when you stormed Schmidt’s final base. You haven’t had time to grieve, to get used to being alone, after having a friend like that for so many years.”

“Since before I can remember,” Steve echoed quietly, a human side that Clint hadn’t seen before coming out on top. He scrubbed a hand quickly across his eyes.

“But why me? You could hang around Bruce and he wouldn’t expect you to talk. He’s perfectly comfortable with hanging around someone who is almost-not-there. You could confide in Natasha—wait, not Natasha. Pepper. So why do you keep coming around me?”

“I guess it’s partly because you’re just as messed up as I am,” Steve said quietly, not looking at him. “But mostly I think you just remind me of Bucky, and I used to just… follow him around.” He’s looking for someone who’s not there, Clint thought.

“I’m not him,” Clint said, as gently as he could.

“I know. At least, I know that, intellectually. Something else desperately wants to believe otherwise.” They had reached the elevator by this time, and Steve punched in the security code, then hit the button for the communal floor. “I sometimes want to push people away, but I can’t. It might hurt less, but… sometimes the thing that’s most painful heals fastest.” Steve stared at the closed doors of the elevator. He shuddered, involuntarily. Clint wasn’t sure if he disapproved of the emotions written clearly in the expression and body language. It was nice to see someone who didn’t hide what they thought, but that sort of thing was vulnerability, by design. Claustrophobic. Captain America is claustrophobic. No one knew this before? How could they miss it? And dealing with the emotional mess that is known as post-traumatic stress and grief.

“The SHIELD shrink sucks at his job,” Steve added. Clint snorted back a laugh.

“What, you too?”

“Well, this one, not so much. Ever since I got transferred over to Agent Lonsley, it’s been better. As your team leader, I could recommend that you be transferred as well.”

“No thanks. I’d rather get this over with as soon as I can. I have to deal with this on my own.” Steve turned toward him, gray eyes piercingly sincere.

“Clint, no one is prepared to cope with a traumatized soldier faced with brainwashing by a Norse god, but some people are more qualified than others.” Steve straightened his spine. “As your team leader, I’m recommending you for a transfer. Blackwell is an idiot who thinks that by prodding old wounds he can heal people. I’m not certified as a medic or as a psychologist, but even I know that that’s the worst possible way to try and pull someone out of his shell.”

“Well, thanks, I guess,” Clint said. From what he had seen of Captain America, as well as what Coulson had told him, he had absolutely no chance of changing the Captain’s mind. Stubborn as an Iowa mule, Coulson had teased him, referring to his birthplace.

Oh, Cap in a contest of stubbornness with the rest of the Avengers. That would be a show.

“You’re claustrophobic,” Clint stated. Steve gave him a blank look.

“I—what?”

“It’s a phobia. You don’t like enclosed spaces; they make you feel trapped. When you can’t control it, you start to panic. Sound familiar?”

“I don’t like to talk about it,” Steve said.

“It’s obvious,” Clint replied. “If I get transferred, that’s going in your file.” Steve gave a tiny half-smile.

“Blackmail?”

“Having your back.” Clint replied. “Nat loves tight spaces. It’s in the wind that you might be partnered with her in the future—if that’s in your file, they’ll at least have some consideration.”

“It’s just an irrational terror with absolutely no basis. I can handle it,” Steve insisted.

“Yeah, big guy. If it gets in the way of your duty, out the window with it. But you shouldn’t have to.”

“That’s my point about you.”

“Exactly. You’re still grieving. I’m still recovering from… being steamrolled by Loki. If you want to help me, you’re going to get help, like it or not. That’s the deal.” Clint grinned cheekily. “I hear that having someone else know helps.” Almost reluctantly, Steve laughed. It was a nice sort of laugh, Clint thought. They laughed too little in this business.

“You really do remind me of Bucky.”

Put Down Roots

05 Thursday Feb 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

because i really really have no social life, captain america, fanfiction, marvel, song-related fiction, the avengers

Because there’s a song and I’m trying to find it but I don’t think anyone has made a fan video for it yet. (Actually, it’s two songs, both called “I’m Still Here” and both might work. But one is my favorite. Anyway… any video editors out there, please take notice: I want one for the Captain America fandom.)

And also because Steve Rogers believes in hope, above all else.

I have nothing more to say.

Put Down Roots

                I’m here.

Perhaps the most often-asked question is “How are you coping?”

I don’t know the answer.

But my feet are on the ground, and the sky is the same. It’s a lie that smog was not so bad in the past. It was just fueled by different things. If anything, it’s gotten better rather than worse.

There are still problems, problems we’re working past.

There is still right and wrong. Things are complex, but then, they’ve always been.

Some roots do not wither and rot away with time. They simply go far too deep.

And the wise tree puts down new roots all the time. Never mind that it hurts when heartstrings are cut. Never mind that time tests us all.

Time is for growth. The future is for hope. We still have a chance about the might-have-been that still should be.

And because of that, I’m still here.

The Soldier’s Prayer

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

captain america: the winter soldier, fanfiction, marvel, oops i did it again, poetry, the avengers

Because I could not stop at one post today and Iris is not currently near a computer to read my email and I’m flailing around waiting for The Winter Soldier.

Enjoy!

The Soldier’s Prayer

Red star for death, silver for light.

The pale ghost stands against the knight.

Pawns hover on the sidelines screaming,

Broken from their complacent dreaming.

No fear, no pain, no dreaming grace;

Seeking, finding, another place,

Hope rises to be crushed by an iron fist,

Terrors rise by chaos kissed.

I can’t forget, I must relive

Once more pour out all I can give

But once more it may not be enough

And I can’t see what a diamond is in rough

I want it back, wish I had died

Worthless all the tears we’ve cried

We could imagine, we could pretend,

But this path only leads to the end.

Red star for death, silver for hope,

Teeth gritting, against a straining rope.

I won’t back down, I will not bow

Only God holds this solemn vow.

Red star is dying in the night,

Self-destructive terrifying sight,

But will another replace it tomorrow?

All future sight is veiled in sorrow.

We could imagine, we could pretend,

But I’m not blind to this desperate end.

Red star for death, silver for light,

Please Heaven don’t let me fail this fight!

…okay, that started as a commentary on how a red star is a great metaphor for Communism, since a “red” star is a dying star, and Communism as a political system is inherently flawed and self-destructive, but then Steve stepped in and turned it into a more emotional thingummy than just a philosophical musing. *punches Steve in the arm* Thanks a lot, I really do like you but sometimes you just do unexpected things to me! Like throw a wrench in my perfectly good plot outline… *sigh*

“Why Would Anyone Love Me?”–Drabbles, and Character Studies

21 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 24 Comments

Tags

baroness emma orczy, brian jacques, c.s. forester, characters, creative writing, drabbles, fanfiction, flash fiction, horatio hornblower, inspirational stuff, marvel, redwall, star wars, story dynamics, the avengers, the scarlet pimpernel, writing

Okay, today’s post is in two parts. The first is a sort of drabble series. The second is a character study and some answers for a rather-important question.

Okay, here we go!


I

                Why would anyone love me?

I’m a monster without morals, a beast without feeling. If I slip up, I could end up destroying everyone and everything around me.

I always end up destroying everything I love.

I was a scientist, a “successful” one. All that was taken from me. Now I wonder… did that matter? Did the accident maybe push me into doing something better?

It doesn’t matter. I’m still a monster.

Why would anyone love me?

II

                Why would anyone love me?

I’m a success that still failed. I’m a martyr who didn’t actually die. Why would anyone care about me?

I’m the soldier who lost his cause, the one-off science experiment that caused people to keep on trying even though it ended up destroying them.

The only thing that ever made me special, and I don’t even know who to trust enough to show it to any more.

I never sold my sword, but I’m still fighting for a cause I’m not sure I believe in. I’m the misfit who found my place, and then lost it again. I don’t belong here. No one cares about the man behind the superhero. To them, I’m only a name.

Why would anyone love me?

III

                Why would anyone love me?

I’m purely not lovable. I have no heart. I would stab anyone in the back in a heartbeat if it meant saving my own skin or finishing a mission.

I’m a weapon, and you can’t love a weapon. All you can love is the feel of it between your hands as you use it to slay your enemies. Anyone you name your enemy, really. All you can love about a weapon is results.

All your love for a weapon is mere sentiment. You can cast a weapon aside, and sooner or later, you will.

I’ve got red in my ledger, demons in my locker. I’ve killed before, and I know I will begin. My hands are stained, and I know I’ll stain them again.

Why would anyone love me?

IV

                Why would anyone love me?

I’m obnoxious, self-possessed, and am obviously—obviously—don’t correct me, Rogers, respect your elders—though that sounded weird—not a team player. I don’t talk about my feelings, except when I do, and then it’s always shallow. I’m selfish.

I’m not a hero. Or at least, I wish I wasn’t one. Being one of the good guys is stupid, sometimes, because you don’t go all the way you can or will or should. You don’t get that same satisfaction as you do before you’re “reformed.” It’s always a temptation.

I’m selfish. I have baggage. I’m annoying.

Why would anyone love me?

V

                Why would anyone love me?

I killed. I reshaped history—in the service of the wrong guys. I betrayed my best friend, and even if he insists that it’s not on me, it still is. I made him bleed. How is that forgivable?

I’m a sniper. I kill from a distance, when I can. I’m an assassin. I’m despicable by nature. I’m a coward. I don’t have half the heart that my best friend does, and I never did.

I’m jealous of him, sometimes.

Why would anyone love me?

VI

                Why would anyone love me?

I’m a veteran, part of something that never made it to the next level. I don’t exactly have a place. Once you’re a part of something, it changes you, and you’re never the same.

I look at people’s heads. I try to help them. But how can I help them when I’m still sick myself?

Some people just… inspire loyalty. And then, more amazingly still, they don’t misuse it. That’s not me. I’m just a lowly soldier, not some superhuman. I’m just one man, nothing more.

Why would anyone love me?

VII

                Why would anyone love me?

I’m a traitor. I helped the enemy.

I shot at allies. At friends. Without hesitation.

Even before that, I was a smart aleck with a bad past, a mere punk with nothing to prove and everything to prove it on.

Why should anyone like me, let alone love me? I’m broken. I’ve had all of me pulled out and something else stuffed in. And then had some sense knocked back into me, but for what?

Why would anyone love me?

VIII

                Why would anyone love me?

I nearly started not one, but two, wars, before I learned humility. I had to have everything taken from me before I understood what a gift I had been given freely.

My parents lied to me. My brother betrayed me. And I—I let him down. He slipped into the void. And then, not long after, I failed him again.

Why would anyone love me?

IX

                Why would anyone love me?

I became the monster I had always feared and hated. I knew what was happening, but I didn’t stop it. I forgot humility and compassion. I craved power and revenge.

I expected people with flaws to be perfect and looked for flaws where there were none.

And then, I played people as if they were pawns on a chess board. I let them fight against each other, I let them harm each other, I let them bleed, I let them die… just to prove that I could.

I have only proved what a monster I could be.

I hate myself.

Why would anyone love me?

And yet… there is love still.

FIN

(The Avengers+Falcon+Winter Soldier+Loki. Anyone care to guess which one is which? There should be enough clues. 😉 )


Characters must be relatable. They must be lovable. It’s a dichotomy, because on some level, that which is lovable is hard to relate to, while that which is relatable also tends to be despicable.

To be lovable, the character must have some good traits that make us root for him or her. To be relatable, the character must also have flaws. (A character without flaws? Not fun to read. Also known as a Mary Sue/Marty Stu/Gary Stu. Look, there’s sexism right there! The guys have two names while the girls only have one! Or does that mean that male Mary Sues are a lot worse than female ones? Bwahahaha.)

Sometimes this is as easy as having the character be a good person (or want to be,) but still be fighting something that wants them not to be.

Sometimes, it’s not that simple.

Let’s take a look at some examples.

Sir Percy Blakeney is a brilliant man. He’s able to routinely outwit one of the most diabolically clever men in Europe. But he matches that with a tendency not to trust people and neglects to tell his wife about his secret identity, nearly getting them both killed.

Horatio Hornblower is a consistent victim of self-hate. He knows his flaws very well; he struggles with them daily. He doesn’t understand why people follow him (the reasons, objectively, are: he’s a good leader and loyal to his men, and he leads from the front, besides he has a sort of charisma that is both baffling, and draws people in at the same time), but he tries to do his best as a leader. He’s terrified, though, that one day he’ll fail as a captain, get his men killed through a miscalculation, or even betray their trust.

Martin the Warrior is a natural leader. However, he sometimes looses it in the midst of battle and goes berserk, leading to people on his own side not being covered properly and dying (spoilers would be the case in point.)

Tony Stark… do I even need to start with him? He’s as off-putting to people as Steve Rogers draws them in. He can be rude, obnoxious, etc. But he cares about Pepper (actually, this is my OTP… sort of?), and he tries to be a hero. Redemption value? I think so.

Steve Rogers–some people hate him because he’s supposedly the definition of all things perfect. This is a complete and total misconception. Dr. Erskine said it all: “Not a perfect soldier, but a good man.” He’s good at heart, but still flawed. Oh, yes, he does have demons. He’s failed people before and knows he will again. He messes up and people die, and he doesn’t let anyone “console” him, for a good reason. He sometimes pushes people away. He isn’t fearless; indeed, I think it’s a safe bet to say that he was terrified to die alone. He has lost everything in a very tangible sense and yet he still goes on, forming new friendships, even though he knows he could lose it all all over again. People follow him because he means what he says and cares about his team, and he’s terrified that one day he won’t live up to their expectations. Since when is good boring?! Good is awesome. Bad things happen to good people and what they do with that makes an incredible story–do they turn bad, or do they try to pick up the pieces and move forward? This is the good stuff. Seriously, who needs antiheroes?!

The thing is, the heroes sometimes have to deal with unpleasant truths. They pick the lesser of two evils and it keeps them up nights. They “compromise” when they could do otherwise and people suffer. Fundamentally good people in a flawed, sometimes cruel world, how they deal with it, how they don’t. That’s what it’s all about. The same is true of life. On some level, we’re all unlovable, yet there is Love still.

Hopefully this is helpful to all the writers out there. 😉

Thanks for reading, and God Bless!

Two Short Stories and a Rant

14 Wednesday Jan 2015

Posted by erinkenobi2893 in Living Life with Passion, Story Dynamics, Tales of a Wandering Bard

≈ 34 Comments

Tags

completed stories, fanfiction, marvel, out of character syndrome, short stories, sudden expedient character defamation syndrome, the avengers, writing

Today, for your approval, I have two short stories that parallel each other. One is called “Expendable”, the other is called “Dauntless.” It’s kind of a mental monologue on the parts of two different characters in one situation, my first experimental attempt at two points of view that are mirror-image. Please tell me what you think.


Expendable

                There’s one thing that terrifies Steve. Not just one, but the only one that terrifies him.

It slipped out at one of the most inopportune moments in a twisted reverse algorithm, confused and writhing like a mass of leeches.

Sometimes there isn’t a way out.

Because there just isn’t, sometimes. The truth is that sooner or later, they won’t have a choice, someone will make the ultimate sacrifice, and the Avengers will lose a teammate.

They’ll have to bury one of their own.

And that, Steve knows from experience, is one of the most painful things of all…

He can’t lose anyone again. He can’t. He’ll break.

Because he sacrificed his life, but instead of Destiny, the Fates, whatever, just accepting it, they handed it back to him.

And took everything else instead. All that he knew once, the people who he was friends with, even the ones he had never liked and who had hated him—gone.

He lost everything.

Inexplicably, he found a new team, new friends. (He didn’t know how—he didn’t deserve to be given a second chance.)

The one thing he knows, raw, sitting like a stone at the back of his deepest soul, is that he simply can not lose someone again. Anyone. Not the man who hates him, not the people who despise him, not even the utter stranger, and certainly not one of his team. Because it will be too much for him and he will break, and once you’ve been a hero you fall hard, and maybe you don’t get up again. Maybe, you even fall, and stand up a villain instead.

And that’s why he plans ahead. That’s why he snaps at Tony when Tony disobeys his orders again. Because on the day that he doesn’t have a plan, when there isn’t a way out, when there is no way to cut the wire—he can only hope it’s him. Because that will hurt less than failure. Again.

He was supposed to die that day, crashing into the ice. But apparently there was something he was supposed to finish. He only hopes he’s done it. And why shouldn’t he sacrifice himself? Among the gods and geniuses and the men with superhuman abilities and the women who can change destiny, he’s only one man, he’s only human. Expendable.

After all, it’s not like they need him.


Dauntless

                In the months since New York, Tony has come to know and dread that look.

Because the captain is thinking. Again. And that never bodes well to someone. Sometimes to multiple someones.

Or is that when Capsicle plans? Tony shrugs. Whatever is going on in Steve’s mind at the moment, it’s dangerous to someone, or something, even if it’s just to something as useless as Clint’s peace of mind, for example.

They nearly lost today. Worse, they nearly lost lives. And that’s why Cap is thinking—thinking, because Steve Rogers does not brood.

When an Avenger goes out, it’s not quick and painless. Nothing is painless for them. They’re kind of gluttons for punishment, which is masochistic but not intentionally, and they can’t seem to stop it.

The thing is, now Cap is not-brooding, but Tony can’t help but think how much worse it would have been if Captain America had not been there. After New York, Tony had become the heart of the team, but if Tony had become the heart, then Steve Rogers was the soul. They have a team now, and no part of that team is expendable. They might be able to go on without one member, but it might tear the rest of them apart as well.

And it would be especially hard to go on without the man who called the shots, who was always able to construct the perfect plan for the situation.

Maybe Tony would be able to step into the gap Steve would leave, but things would never be the same. Maybe the team would stay together, but there would always still be that one empty seat, no matter how many new members they could recruit.

After all, no one is expendable.


And now, for the rant.

Part of this is because there seem to be Howard haters all over the place, but the character really isn’t quite like people love to portray him. (Why do people prefer tragic backstories to genuine character development? Gah. I have one character whose childhood was especially unpleasant–she was trained as an assassin from childhood, was apprenticed to a few uncaring “masters”, and she even ended up killing a few of the wrong people for goodness’ sake! Like one of the heroes we will (hopefully) get to love! And yet she’s not an unbearable angster, but a young woman who is matter-of-fact about it and goes on with it, all the same. I’m more impressed by characters who overcome their past than those who whine about it all the time.) Howard Stark was certainly not the ideal father. He was distant, and alienated his son thereby. However, he did not “hate” Tony, nor was he abusive. From the movies, I gained the impression first of a young man who was cynical due to the fact that everyone wanted something from him, since he was wealthy, but hid it under a sort of bravado and flash. He was dubious that Erskine’s program would work, but his work probably saved Steve Rogers’ life–I doubt that Steve was expected to live until he was thirty–and while he remained, for a while, dubious about Rogers’ ability to lead a team, he ended up becoming friends with the captain, who probably puzzled Howard, since Steve really didn’t want anything from him, unlike almost everyone else Howard had ever known, and was not jaded either. Then, at the tail end of the war in Europe, Steve sacrificed his life to save thousands of innocents. Howard had lost one of the few people he ever really cared about, and that made him wary of ever letting anyone else in. When Tony came along, Howard was scared to spend time with his son, because he was terrified of losing Tony as well and didn’t want to get attached. Added to that, Howard was probably nearly destroyed by Hiroshima and Nagasaki, as in the Marvel universe he probably worked on the Manhattan project, and never imagined that his tech would be used in such a way (similar to Tony in the first Iron Man movie.) When I think of Howard Stark, I think of a very human person, flawed, but not evil. Howard loved Tony. Howard didn’t know how to say it. However, most people just ignore that and prefer to portray him as an abusive, neglectful man, rather than the distanced but loving father he really was. Sudden Expedient Character Defamation Syndrome.

Also, when Tony says in Iron Man 2, “Dead so many years and he’s still taking me to school,” it was my impression that he said it fondly, like he loved his father back and was really hurt by the fact that Howard distanced himself, and that’s why he was so bitter.

Thoughtful fans are the best kind.

Rant over.

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