Originally, T$$ was meant to be a 10 chapter novella. I planned for it to be around 15k words long, and Kaius would be the only narrator. (You see how that turned out. Once I started writing, I liked the other guys too much.)
I’ve found I like writing third person present-tense better than past, but for this story it's been important to write everyone in past-tense except Sahota. I wanted to highlight his differences; he doesn't want to think about the past or the future. All he can do is focus on one moment after another.
Chapter five, or “Barricade” unintentionally foreshadowed the actual mission: Vic sends the crew on an impossible task. They manage to break their objective and don't die. (Meanwhile, Sahota isn't present because he's currently being tortured lol.)
“Paper Targets” has a LOT of fun little details to me. The crew doesn't know it, but they're back where it all started, where Sahota first met Vic. The groundwork for their relationship dynamic was laid out here, and it ends here, with a click and a little spy. Sahota thought he'd die here, in the beginning and in the end, but instead he overcame Vic.
I knew the ending before I started writing, but not the specifics. Sahota had to be the one to kill Vic, but it was equally as important to finally give him his rescue, to have his team come for him. So I did both: he kills Vic, but he does it with support and people to fall back on. He does it because they cut him free.
Hunter's concept is inspired by all the low level goons in action movies. The dumb, expendable background bad guys who only exist to be shot by the protagonist. He's lived most of his life thinking that about himself and feeling like he has to be useful in order to have a place in the group. Part of Hunter's character is that he's not particularly smart or skilled, but that it doesn't matter if he is. Even if he has nothing to offer, he's still deserving of care, and that's something that will be very difficult for him to accept.
Usually, characters just come to me through a doodle or story, but I made the main T$$ crew very intentionally (which was weird and initially felt forced, but I grew to love them). Since I was starting with nothing but a vague story idea, I went with base tropes to start developing the characters and wound up combining the five-man band archetype with fashion styles to get a feel for who everyone was:
Kaius - the leader (one who tends to drive things and make plans) + academia
Hunter - the lancer (foil to the leader) + grunge
Joy - the big guy (most capable/willing to throw hands) + action hero
Jericho - the smart guy (he wound up with a lot more heart, but this was his template) + business casual
Benji - the heart (non confrontational, softer) + goth
My whole reason for starting this story, at least at first, was to create a scenario where Ander Sahota was a supporting character and the readers could slowly put together who he was. That was my reason: make a fun little game/puzzle. But once I created the main crew, I loved them enough to turn them into my “multiverse cast”.
The first design I imagined Joy with (not drew, just the idea in my head) had her with the same body type, but blonde with freckles. When I first drew her, she became Filipino with dark hair, and Finley got the blonde/freckles traits. (Subconscious soulmates from the beginning)
Speaking of the origins, when I started writing Secrecy I wasn't super into the idea. I figured it would just be a short series with a designated ending, and then I could move onto Crucible. I wanted Silas/Crucible to be older, bitter, and defiant, so I decided to make Ander the opposite, to kinda try something new. Thus he became naively brave, out of his depth, and very afraid. It didn't take long for me to become obsessed with him.
Secrecy was originally supposed to end with Shepard turning Ander into his pet, but just after chapter eight I decided that wasn't as satisfying. I tried to foreshadow it in chapter eight: when Ander grabs the knife, he notes the handle as being oddly bulky. The reveal at the end was originally going to be Shepard unraveling the leather on the handle to reveal a collar.
For the first half of t$$, Jericho's chapters end on the note of a name, Benji's end with him having more thoughts on Sahota, Kaius's end with some new, ominous suspicion, Hunter's end with him sinking closer to harm's way, and Joy's end with bombs.
Everyone has an oc that looks like the childof someone else's ocs. @befuddled-calico-whump several years later, this is the sequel to that one Hunter and Jade comparison. Hunter and Kaius (who's bangs i still cannot get right from memory) meeting Jade (and her sister Sunny because they are a package deal), and Osheen.
I'm surprised by how much Jade and Osheen look like Hunter and Kaius respectively. the comparison would be more obvious if they were colored so let's do a Quick recap:
Hunter/Jade
-Wasian
-bring Green hair
-very thin
-very short temper
-similar trauma
Kaius/Osheen
-Trans guys
-South asian
-Pretty boys with beautiful lashes
-similar eyes/nose shape (It doesn't show much in here because it's not a very detailed doodle and their faces are very tiny)
In short, i hope you like this! Hunter and Kaius might not have children in canon but a 17 year old ex hitwoman and her rabbit-obsessed friend Who she rescued from a human cattle farm and a creepy vampire lord might do the trick
fanfiction for and taking place within part nine of @befuddled-calico-whump series Total$hit$how
cw: abusive situations, beating, implied worse violence, adult language
X X X
Ruebin was next.
Sahota didn't expect much from the kid- didn't expect much from any of them, truthfully- but even less from Ruebin. The thief's fumbling, nervous conversation from earlier had told him all he needed to know: a petty criminal ill-suited to these violent ends. Even the way he entered the room was hesitant and Sahota suppressed a yawn. Here we go.
“This is not my strong suit,” Ruebin said as a greeting, almost apologetic.
Sahota blinked at him. “Well, don't admit that,” he snapped. “At least pretend like you're competent.” Ruebin flinched at that, as if stung by the words, and Sahota almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “What information are you after? Start there.”
“Oh, um.” Ruebin came closer, forcing confidence into his stride. Better. He knew how to act the part if nothing else. “I was thinking, I already know your favorite food, so it should be just a little thing to tell me more.” He tried a smile. “What's your favorite dessert?”
Sahota's face betrayed nothing even as the question jolted through him like a shock. It was an innocent piece of information; a silly, simple thing even easier to admit than what he'd let slip to Ruebin before. The memory that came with it, though, sent his pulse racing.
It had been years ago, the early days of his captivity work with Vic. Not the earliest, when he'd been afraid even to breathe wrong around the older man, but still early enough to test the limits of his freedom until it- or he- broke.
Then it was a surveillance mission, the kind that came with hours on hours of tedious watching in which one or two useful things might happen. Sahota had carefully tailed the target in his nondescript sedan, following her to her workplace downtown. The target went inside, to her corner office, and Sahota settled in to watch and wait.
Waiting was Sahota's specialty. Patience had been drilled into him by his schoolteachers long before Vic got ahold of him and made him an expert at it. Six or eight or ten hours in a hot car watching an executive scroll for pornography on her work computer was nothing to him.
And yet. The day was hot; the sun rolling high in the sky with not a cloud in sight. It was the kind of day that Sahota would have loved when... Well, in another life. More than once he found his gaze drifting to the wide blue of the sky. This was not the first solo mission Vic had entrusted to him, but the novelty of being alone and outside was still fresh. He was trusted now: with a vehicle, with solitude, with a mission. He had worked and been worked over to gain that trust and he would not betray it.
And yet.
Sahota heard the music before he saw it: a cheerily painted ice cream truck trundling up the avenue. It parked and was immediately clustered with children and adults. It was a good day for it, hot as it was. Sahota looked up at the target, now dozing in her chair after a liquid lunch of bourbon, and then back at the truck. It was so close. Only a few yards.
He knew the idea was foolish. He could remember vividly the terror of the early days, how he never would have dared to even think about something like this. He knew better. Now, though, it was different. He was almost a person again. And, after all, he was alone on this mission. Vic would never even need to know. A dozen steps, a bill from his wallet, five minutes. It was such a little thing. Sahota's eyes drifted again to the gaily colored advertising on the side of the truck. It had been so long. Surely he could...
Sahota was doing it before he'd even fully decided to. A dozen steps, a bill from his wallet, five minutes. It was as fast and easy as he had hoped. The target didn't even move in the time that it took Sahota to secure a target of his own. The ice cream bar started melting almost immediately, but he didn't care.
Sahota ate it quickly and carefully, savoring the treat as much as he could without getting it everywhere the way he used to as a kid. Almost he could hear his mother's voice chiding him about the mess he was making and his heart ached for her. The ice cream tasted like home and suddenly he was sick with it. He made himself finish it and tucked the trash away for later disposal. He couldn't decide if it had been worth it.
Eventually the mission was over. Sahota's careful surveillance yielded enough information to proceed to the next phase; more even than they had expected to find. It was early enough in his career for Sahota to still feel pride about these things, for satisfaction to bloom in his chest when Vic gave him even faint praise.
“You did well,” Vic told him. Sahota didn't smile, but it was a near thing. Praise on his mentor's lips was a rare and precious thing. His back straightened even further and he nodded his thanks. “So well, in fact,” Shepard continued, “that I think you deserve a treat.”
Sahota sensed the trap just before it closed, but was helpless to stop it.
“What about...ice cream?”
Sahota's breath froze in his lungs. He knew, fuck, of course he knew, Vic always knew everything, why had he been so fucking stupid- Shepard was moving faster than he could believe, seizing Sahota by the hair and slamming his face against the desk once, twice. His nose cracked and Sahota swallowed a cry.
Sahota slid to the floor, trying to quiet the gurgle of his breathing through the blood flooding his nose, his mouth. His head was fuzzy with pain and panic and he scrambled desperately for some way to fix this. “Sir, I-” Vic kicked him viciously in the gut and Sahota retched.
“What did you think was going to happen?” Vic's voice was still softly casual, even as he kicked Sahota again and again. “Did you really think you could hide anything- anything- from me?” Sahota reached out blindly; half a defense, half a plea for mercy. Shepard's boot came down heavy on Sahota's hand, crushing the fingers under his weight.
Sahota screamed; a short, bitten-off sound that he couldn't quite help. Screaming only made it worse. “I didn't... Please...” Vic's weight shifted and Sahota writhed, doing everything he could to pull his hand free. Everything, of course, except touch his master's boot. Even now, he didn't dare.
“And here I thought you were doing so well lately.” Shepard lifted his foot and allowed Sahota to snatch back his bruised hand. “I suppose you really weren't ready after all.” Vic crouched next to Sahota and touched his cheek. In any other place, in any other life, it would have been loving. “Looks like we'll have to learn some lessons over again, mhm?”
Sahota bit back a sob. Excuses raced in his mind, a thousand ways to try and explain his actions. None of them reached his lips. He knew from bitter experience that the more he pleaded, the more Vic hurt him. This was his own fault, after all. He'd known better. The best he could do was take the punishment he'd earned in silence. This was the price of his own foolishness. Sahota cleared his mind into a careful blank and nodded into his master's hand.
“Yes, sir.”
Hours later, covered in his own slime and left bleeding in the dark, Sahota could say categorically that it had not been worth it. Not at all.
“Sahota?”
His eyes flicked back up to Ruebin. The guy was staring at him, chewing on his lip nervously. The silence was unnerving him. Good. Sahota kept his gaze steady, pushing the memory of the long-ago punishment back and down. Even if Ruebin managed to work up the nerve to lay a hand on him, it wouldn't- couldn't- be worse than that day.
In the end, Ruebin gave up early. Sahota watched him go with something like pity. Two down, three to go. Hopefully at least one of the others would prove more diverting.
Benji from @befuddled-calico-whump’s Total $hit $how.
He sings musical songs to wind down after training. Just like me. It annoys Kaius and Sahota, Jericho and Joy both like it, Hunter is kind of indifferent.
