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veinereastath · 3 years ago

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considering you make a lot of Harrow content (and bless you for it), do you have any take on what his past could've been? like, who he was, how he got into khonshu's service etc?

Ooooh, boy. This is something that's been bothering me since the show was around episode 3 and... You know what, it's hard, but I will try to put my chaotic thoughts into words.

Beware, long post, because I got carried away and broke Harrow's persona into little bits to analyze what I can.

Alright, alert, this is strong speculation / headcanoning.

* * *

1. There is very little information on Harrow, because those that we can be absolutely sure about are just those:

• he's American (though, funny enough, that's what wiki page says, it's not stated black on white in the show; but I guess it makes sense, so let's accept it as 100% solid fact),

• he was a former avatar of Khonshu and wielder of the Moon Knight title, • he's vegan,

• he speaks Ancient Egyptian, Coptic, and Arabic and knows a bit of Mandarin, but that last one isn't too important,

• he knows some big chunks of history, probably (I'm basing this suggestion on the things and people he mentioned to Steven in episode 1),

• if we accept a loose idea that Harrow is around the same age that Ethan Hawke is, we have early-fifties friendly neighbourhood cult leader.

Aaaand that's it. Bit disappointing, especially since this is the time where someone thirsty for more knowledge would get their hands on the comics and learn more, but... Being a Harrow stan has a big problem, and that is - Arthur Harrow in the show is a totally new, mostly improvised character that barely has anything to do with his comics counterpart (honestly, it came out way better, but still, that means we barely have any outside knowledge).

Fun fact if you haven't watched Assembled: The Making of Moon Knight - the very first idea/draft for Harrow was, according to the producers, Harrow that is some kind of shady billionaire instead of what we got in the end. Also came out way better, I think.

* * * 2. I have all Harrow scenes, even the few-second ones (him standing menacingly in the bus from episode 1, woah), and at this point I've probably memorized all of his dialogue lines, but you know what... Damn, it still barely gives any idea for what he might've been up to in the past. However, if someone came to my room, put a pistol to my head and told me to write few ideas about his possible occupation pre-Khonshu I might have, I would pick these: • psychologist / psychiatrist: let's be honest, Harrow is very good at manipulating people, effectively using his words, body language and touch, and while it's something that you can learn without any sort of psychological degree, it would just fit pretty nicely. It would also tie with how he's portrayed in Marc's & Co mind palace. Notice how his mind totally swapped the roles of everyone from the show - the "good" guys are patients, while Harrow's disciples are hospital's personnel (Bobbi Kennedy and Billy Fitzgerald, for example - these two you could probably recognize from episode 2, where they came to Steven's apartment, posing as/actually being police officers). And on the top of that cake you have The Big Bad himself as... Well, a doctor. A soft-spoken, patient individual. It's interesting how Marc's & Co mind took Harrow's good qualities and put him in charge of his... Huh, let's call it therapy. After episodes 4/5/6 and scenes from that asylum I could genuinely buy Arthur as former doctor, because he indeed does have qualities that would fit into this category - I only suppose it was later he's worldview got corrupted.

The only 'but' I have in this theory - something tells me that Khonshu wouldn't be overly interested in a doctor of any kind being his avatar, but I could be wrong. Still, it irks me a bit. Not very Khonshu-style.

• historian: I won't lie, it's a very loose idea, but hell, who knows. Not much to say about this one, mostly just throwing it in your face for you to think about if you wish. It might be just me looking too deply into just one sentence from museum scene in episode 1, but it's still something to think about. Even if Harrow wasn't a full-time historian, he definitely knows a thing or two, though it could be because of his life experience. Let's be honest, people in their 50ties know something about the world.

• okay, bare with me on this, but! mercenary: listen, I know that Harrow doesn't look too much like a soldier material (though he clearly kicks ass of 2, well, actually, 3 people at once in Episode 6, because Steven & Marc are a package deal), but it would fit nicely with Khonshu's interest in avatars that both can and are mentally ready to get their hands bloody. It would also make an amusing connection to Marc himself, and if we really wanna speculate hard, we could try to somehow connect the Bushman-Marc-Layla's father dilemma with Harrow himself. I just find it curious that the murder of archeologists took place nearby Khonshu's temple, of all places.

Also, if Harrow truly were a mercenary, it would also fit the way he at once point decided that serving justice after the fact is way too late - because someone in this profession sees death on a nearly daily basis, meets people of questionable backgrounds, so that would be a nice beginning for him to just go mad with society, and at some point, also hate himself, in a way (throwback to his confession in the end of episode 3, where he says to Khonshu's ushabti that he enjoyed inflicting pain).

All of it also makes me think about the way he basically growled 'mercenary' towards Steven during their first meeting in the Alps in episode 1. Because it either suggests some kind of hidden contempt towards this occupation because Harrow knows first-hand how disgusting it is, or it also could totally destroy this theory because he actually meant it in a truly derogatory way without actually having first-hand experience in this field of work. As I said in the beginning, it's all a messy speculation, do with that what you will.

* * *

3. The other things I was wondering about is his general status of wealth in the past. Somehow I can't imagine him as a very wealthy person. Either he was just making a simple living at some point (that, however, would clash with the mercenary theory, since this work has a potential for getting a lot of money), or he was, maybe, at some point, totally homeless. An interesting things worth noticing that he said in episode 2 are those:

• "I'm curious, do you think that Khonshu chose you as his avatar because your mind would be so easy to break, or because it was broken already?"

and:

• "I know that being on the right side of things is important to you. Khonshu always tries to ensnare those with a strong moral conscience."

^ also, I find it funny that right after he says that, Khonshu does his typical temper-tantrum shenanigans, knocks over some food and says "You have no conscience." I know that Harrow couldn't hear him at this point, but I find it more probable that Khonshu actually meant it as an offense towards Harrow. I genuinely doubt it was towards Marc/Steven. Steven especially, he's too pure, and he was in control of the body at the time.

Now, as everything else that Harrow says, those sentences as well must be taken with a grain of sand salt, because he knows that Steven is totally lost at what's going on, so Arthur tries to take advantage of it and manipulate him into getting the scarab's location. However, if we accept what he says as truth - and I'm willing to do so in case of these specific lines of dialogue, especially since I believe that Harrow is not truly a liar, but more likely he lies by omission.

Now, the point I'm trying to make is this - we actually know Khonshu has a weak spot for people with broken minds, for example he got Marc into his service when he was truly at his worst, with a gun pressed to his head. I can believe that he might've gotten Harrow in a similar way - either when he had no home, no money and no perspectives and was close to ending himself, or, if we accept the possible mercenary lifepath, he could've broke out of this line of work and found himself tormented with, perhaps, some sort of PTSD and crushing guilt + disgust because of the society as whole. This would make him a person with a broken mind, or one that is on the verge of breaking and just needs a soft push - and surprise, wild Khonshu emerges.

Another important, in my opinion, line of dialogue is this one, from 'Dr. Harrow' in the asylum, by the end of episode 4 (for those who don't remember, he says it to Marc as he's during a sort of panic attack and tries to run away):

"Truly, I understand how you're feeling. I too have suffered from mental illness, breaks in psychic awareness, manic episodes, followed by depression."

Okay. This is, once again, a dangerous territory of 'how much of actual Harrow is in Dr Harrow', because we don't know that, we don't know how much of this Harrow is actually Marc & Co projecting. But if we take it as another hint towards the actual Harrow and his past, we are getting a nice little clue: he indeed was on the verge of breaking, or even totally broken at some point. And once again, we can speculate that either he was a psychologist/psychiatrist that just got overwhelmed with the cons of this line of work (and believe me, it is very tiring, and psychologists also have their own psychologists and so on, it goes in circles basically) or he was a mercenary that suffered from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

* * *

4. Last but not least - at what point did Harrow got invested into Egyptian mythology in general, if ever? Because we know that Marc was probably quite dim in this area (for example, he doesn't know who Khonshu when they meet, he doesn't know Hathor after years of servitude, and Hathor is one of the main characters of the Egyptian pantheon!), and yet Khonshu was interested enough to pick him up, revealing himself to someone who had nearly no knowledge about Egyptian gods at all. So, there are two possibilities:

a) Harrow was also taken in a similar way, not interested in the history of ancient Egypt whatsoever until Khonshu picked him up as his Moon Knight,

b) Harrow had either a general idea, or, even better, already was quite deep into the ideas of Egyptian gods. Hell, considering how hell-bent he is on the idea of justice, even if twisted, it is possible that he himself turned to Khonshu during his breaking point in life because he wanted to, and he was the one who searched for some sort of contact, if he was devoted enough to somehow believe in these gods' existence.

After mixing it up, connecting the dots here and there, there are two main (!!!) headcanon (!!!) backgrounds for Harrow I can come up with.

a) former psychologist/psychiatrist who got overwhelmed with the mental ilnesses of his own patients, quite possibly those who suffered some sorts of trauma from abuse/general injustice, and at some point lost control over himself; he delves deep into depression, and being already somehow interested in the idea of egyptian justice, at some point he gets maniacal enough to genuinely try and contact Khonshu, maybe in the midst of one of his panic attacks or those breaks in psychic awareness he mentions in episode 5. Khonshu sees a pretty nice catch and a mind broken enough to easily get twisted into a well-fit avatar, and so Harrow begins his bloody rampage in his name.

b) former mercenary who, during his escapades, saw first-hand a lot of violence, maybe even got captured and tortured at some point (!), suffering some sort of PTSD. He barely has any grip around the idea of egyptian mythology, but Khonshu appears and possibly gets him out of an unescapable situation (maybe from captivity), thus making Harrow continue on pretty much the same warpath, but now getting his hands bloody in a cause that at least seems better than just killing for money, therefore giving Harrow an illusion of setting himself straight. Also, being a mercenary gives a nice chance to learn Arabic.

* * *

5. Another thing worth thinking about is at what point exactly did Harrow turn his back on Khonshu and started being interested in what Ammit's views were. In this case, I barely can get anything solid from the show itself, so once again it's a speculation playground. I was thinking that perhaps he was a witness to someone preparing to abuse someone, making plans, and yet he wasn't allowed to act beforehand because Khonshu makes a point of waiting to the point where there is no turning back and evil has already been done. That sounds like something that might've make Harrow either start to strongly question his loyalty, or immediately break the deal and turn to Ammit, either momentarily, because he might've already been intrigued by the idea of her during his service (though I doubt it - if Khonshu was in his mind, it might've been risky), or found out about her during his separation from Khonshu, seeking a new way to regain some sort of sense in his life. Perhaps once again he gor thrown into the pit of despair and self-hatred, his mind broken both by past trauma and Khonshu himself being extremely abusive, desperately looking for answers, and boom, wild Ammit appears in some sort of old history books. This might've looked to Harrow like a final solution to the problem of world's injustice, and also serving justice to himself after genuinely enjoying inflicting pain on Khonshu's behalf (and perhaps even before then, if we accept the mercenary-lifepath possibility. Or he might've just been a psycho-doctor, though Harrow doesn't give me psychopatic vibes, honestly).

... Alright, I'm done. Thank you for the ask, anon. :") Have a treat in these trying times:

#carried away is a one way to call it #long post #arthur harrow #moon knight #mcu #marvel #ethan hawke

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leggerefiore · 3 years ago

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thinkingggg abouuuut emmet applying his expertise in pokemon breeding to his s/o when she agrees to have his child- like he has so many little tricks and trade secrets throughout the years for getting the best result between pokemon that he can’t help but treat his and reader’s situation as working the same way as his pokemon breeding- planning out the perfect time to attempt fertilization during ovulation, speculating on the results and what genes would most likely be dominant or recessive, he’s been cutting back on foods that decrease male fertility for a few weeks- he’s not even aware anything he’s saying or doing is unusual (she’d be annoyed but i think she’d also think it was endearing……it’s emmet after all, that’s just how he is…) but it is a liiiiittle dehumanizing when he admits he went easy on you in some recent battles because he figures if being in a good mood after a battle makes female pokemon more receptive to the male, then…

better yet s/o tries to outclass his ass, throwing out random statics they looked up.

"Oh, it didn't take again, Emmet," you pouted while sitting in his lap, looking up into his eyes, "Perhaps you aren't getting enough Vitamin D. Being trapped in a subway isn't helping you." He frowns back at you. Vitamin D... Oh, he'd show you some Vitamin D. "Maybe your balls overheated. I read that affects sperm count." Alright. Now he understood how you felt.

Though, his experience in pokemon breeding does help as he makes charts about ovulation alongside better dietary plans (in general, pregnancy is a different beast altogether). He's also extremely patient. Emmet knows full well it can take a while for fertilisation to happen. The younger twin is more than happy to fuck you until it happens.

The battle thing was a nice attempt, but it didn't really do anything, and you're not a female spider. Though, you do threaten sexual cannibalism after you find out.

Mostly, it's a bit endearing to see him so passionate about starting a family and attempting to include his knowledge. Also, you just really, really like the sex. Emmet just can't stay off of you, and you thought he was horny before. He gets constantly first thing in morning, during his lunch break, and somewhere in the evening. You're certain that a decent chunk of calories are burned from the amount of sex you're having regularly.

Of course, you aren't trusting his claims that dairy, gaining some weight, cassava, and sweet potatoes are going to give you twins.

#interna fi #emmet.ima

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years ago

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Doll Parts | tony stark x reader

i love him so much it just turns to hate // he only loves those things because he loves to see them break // and someday you will ache like i ache // Hole - Doll Parts

all hurt comfort. angst. no happy ending. big sad. tony could have been like this, you know. he was like this to pepper at some point. i don't know why i am like this today. rated M for themes of (implied) addiction & cheating and non-explicit mentions of intimacy. word count: 3,3k

It wasn't as if she was blind or dumb. She saw the way he treated everyone around him; whenever a single person got too close he'd push them away, consciously or not. The man loved pushing everybody's buttons as if he was playing Galaga for a living; rapidly, mercilessly, with intent. Tony Stark was not a man to whom a person would give their heart willingly.

It was her own fault she went and gave hers away, to him, of all people. And sometimes, it did feel like he loved her, in his own way. Tony would shower her with gifts and affection, cling to her whenever he wasn't away on SI business, and God, the sex was out of this world. Sometimes, she felt as if she would suddenly burst into a blinding flash of light, scalding and deafening, that would sprout from the invisible wounds his fingers left on her skin. Like fine china, she cracked little by little under his steady, tender hands.

The first time he'd ended their short, by average standards, but long - by his, relationship, it didn't come as a surprise. She had never held illusions on ensnaring the world's most notorious playboy. Younger and less jaded, she amicably agreed to get her things that very same day, blocked his number and left for an overdue vacation in the tropics. Being able to browse the gossip sites speculating on their lack of public appearances whilst sipping a Strawberry Daiquiri was a much better alternative to spending her nights holed up in rainy Manhattan, having to answer numerous "I told you so" calls from friends and relatives.

Maybe, three daiquiris should've been enough. But she'd quit smoking because he said the smell bothered him and she- well, she could do anything she wanted now. Being alone and not dating a very public figure definitely had way more perks than she previously had taken for granted in her much less exposed life. That's how the heartache began to recede: it was hard to mope when fun was calling for you by your name.

Some of Tony's character traits had migrated onto her. Which wasn't bad per se, she had been told she could use to loosen up. Her friends rejoiced in the newfound adventurousness, never missing an opportunity to go out, throw a party, go on a clubbing spree. She was game and she was enjoying it. Dolled up and eyes sparkling, the newfound confidence radiated off her like a beacon, attracting just about every single like-minded person in a five mile radius.

Tony's champagne he had sent to their table meant nothing. Her friends laughed and giggled and asked her all about the juicy details about the billionaire; as much as she searched the rowdy crowd for a familiar pair of baby doe browns, they weren't anywhere within sight. So she went back to talking and smiled as bright as the strobe lights, throwing down a whiskey shot to water the burning ache in her chest.

She found him on the dancefloor. Seconds after she stepped her foot into the mass of grinding bodies Tony was there, an equally happy and intoxicated smile on his face and arms wide open, as if they hadn't parted ways at all. She wanted to be angry with him, she really did, she wanted to snide his frivolity and the possessive way that he had the audacity to treat her.

His eyes, they were her untold weakness. She hadn't seen him so happy in months. Just once, she agreed, she'd let it slide. And so they danced, bodies accustomed to each other in the way that seemed to be impossible for her to achieve with anyone since the day that she left Tony Stark.

A splitting headache and a cold, empty bed greeted her the next morning. Thankfully, her clothes were laying haphazardly on the floor of the bedroom - the bed that was not his own but, rather, as she assumed, one of the many guest rooms in his tower.

Not the one to usually harbour shame of her very human needs, she felt like a cheap whore when she got dressed and grabbed her purse, making a beeline for the door to the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, she was greeted with a woman in a professional suit - tall, strawberry blonde and as cold as the Arctic, beautiful in the Vogue-magazine, unattainable way.

"Good morning," The woman spoke in a pleasant tone.

She wanted to retch from the false cheerfulness. "Good morning, ma'am. I was just leaving," Refusing to bow to her own shame, she flashed an equally cheerful grin towards the blonde.

"I'm Mr. Stark's personal assistant, my name is Pepper Potts," They briefly shook hands, neither of them wanting to touch the other longer than it was necessary. "There is a car waiting for you downstairs. Be sure to take the left exit."

Internally fuming, she smiled slightly wider, seeing no need to introduce herself or prolong the awkward interaction longer than necessary. "Thank you, Ms. Potts, that will not be necessary. I have arranged my own ride. Have a nice day, ma'am," With that, she pressed the button once again, entering the elevator with the expression of polite contentment glued to her face like a persistent piece of dog shit she couldn't shake off the bottom of her shoe.

Ms. Potts' façade slipped slightly - she must've been new - as the blonde ran a sharply observant look over the woman in the elevator, pulling out her phone as soon as the elevator door was halfway closed. That was quickly forgotten, her head growing clearer with each second it was pressed against the cold window of the cab she'd called on the way downstairs.

It was a mistake, a perfectly human accident that happened to the best of them. Only it left a bitter residue somewhere south of her ribcage, something acrid and viscous that even alcohol couldn't melt. The more she drank, the thicker that ball of rolled up frustration became, bleeding into her work, her relationships with her friends. It was tiresome to keep craving something so far out of her reach.

The exhaustion grew day by day, until her chest felt constricted for most part of the day and all the oxygen in the whole wide world wasn't enough. Her heartache was saved, strangely enough, by aliens - they rained down on New York city like frogs during the Plague in the book of Exodus; as if God himself was angry at the state of affairs of his favourite pet earthlings. For a time, she couldn't afford to worry about her broken heart and focused on the dilapidated city, landing her resources and skills whenever, whenever she could.

Late at night, exhausted and drained, she allowed herself to flick through the news, eagerly soaking up the new details that seemed to pop up every other day. Aliens were real, Thor was one, Captain America was alive and her ex-boyfriend was now a member of the merry band of misfit superheroes.

She had never taken his hero sidegig too seriously. Tony had some good in him, he wasn't the attention-demanding supervillain-waiting-to-happen, but neither he was hero material. The Tony she knew was akin to a hyperintelligent kid left without supervision. Consequences were a slight setback, not a surefire deterrent for this man.

Her building remained mostly intact - some cosmetic damages that were repaired quickly and did not concern her apartment at all - so she stayed in the same place, much to everyone's dismay. A good chunk of her friends had moved away from NYC as soon as they could - not that she blamed them - but the calls of her family, consisting of begging and nagging her to move states, were beginning to climb over the annoying line very quickly. More often than not, she ignored all calls that weren't from her friends or work.

It shouldn't have surprised her that Tony showed up on her balcony one night - but the shriek that left her was utterly involuntary. His armored suit was noisy and clunky, just like was expected from a huge chunk of metal. Tony's face was a ghost of the man she used to know: he was pale, the bags under his eyes were fit to carry groceries in and he'd lost more than a few pounds around his middle.

Not that she had a glow-up. Work hours were long, volunteer work was by far more exhausting and emotionally draining. With her support system scattered across the country and free hours few and in-between, she'd acquired a shrink. Nightmares went away and the sluggishness, too, thanks to a couple of convenient prescriptions. It seemed like the professionals were as clueless as any in dealing with the aftermath of an alien invasion.

"You weren't returning my calls," Tony stated in the way of hello. It was so like him, to be skipping the pleasantries and glossing over the details.

"I have your number blocked," She replied unkindly, raising an eyebrow as the suit retracted and the man, wearing worn jeans and an oil-stained tee, stepped into the twilight of her home without an invitation.

"I wanted to make sure you are alive and your home is being rebuilt in case it was demolished. Stark foundation is shouldering most of the expenses," He offered in the way of explanation, beelining for the nice whiskey she kept in a tumbler in the living room.

The snort escaped her lips before she could help it; brain chronically overtired but medicated; Adderall and weariness. He was never a good liar, only a good faker. "Why are you here, Tony?" All of it: the damages, the casualties, all of it was public record, accessible 24/7. All he had to do was open Google.

He turned around, scanning her head-to-toe, in that not-quite-convinced way. "Just wanted to see if you're okay," He tried for nonchalant but his eyes were haunted. The whiskey glass he was holding empty in seconds.

She walked up to him, staying at an arm's distance from the man, before doing a slow, sarcastic twirl. "I'm fine. Not a scratch. Was in Staten Island that day."

He nodded, not at all convinced. "Good," Before slamming the glass down with such force, she was afraid the countertop now sported a rounded indent. Fingers twitching, he pulled the woman into himself before she could utter a peep, smashing their lips together without any grace, paying no attention to the way she froze as still as a statue. "God, I missed you. Couldn't bear the thought of you dying..." He mumbled in between harshly biting the plump of her bottom lip and steering the kiss towards his wishes, hand tangled in the hair on the back of her head.

He tasted like whiskey and desperation.

She couldn't not give in. She'd felt the same way when she watched his red and gold armor fly into that wormhole, missile in tow. She'd felt the same despair clawing at her ribcage when his lifeless body flew back from it before being caught by the rabid green monstrosity.

It wasn't graceful and it wasn't pretty; feeling like a monster herself, she responded the same way he did. She shredded his clothes, she clawed his back, leaving wet crimson streaks in the wake of her nails and whispered the ugliest, nastiest truths she had denied herself for so long. He left with the promise to stay in contact and for once, he did.

Nothing was the same. Tony was far from the careless, extravagant billionaire he used to be. These days he was a cynical, analytical asshole that one-upped people even before he had a real need to do so. Both of them had changed, really. She was not the tender uptown girl either.

The nights with him were rare and long; the nights alone with her work were recurrent and longer. The tower stood out on the NYC skyline like a sore thumb, beckoning with the unattainable snipe hunt of having something stable with the world's #1 superhero, Tony Stark. Each time they met, she felt almost as dirty as the time she stood in the elevator under the scrutiny of Pepper Potts.

Even if he didn't outright hide her. She'd ran into Black Widow and Clint Barton once or twice, each of them casting a glance at her Special Visitor badge before muttering niceties and moving on with their day. It was only slightly better with the Captain: he got in the elevator two floors below Tony's penthouse at 8 AM in the morning, just as she was leaving for work - dressed in a sharp pantsuit that was not-quite on Pepper's level. The soldier must've assumed she was a high-rank employee or a friend, the tips of his cheeks blushing as he spoke a quiet: "Good morning, ma'am," In that semi-formal tone of his.

Seeing a grown man get so flustered was quite adorable. "Good morning, Captain Rogers, sir," She replied in a matching tone, humoring him.

The elevator stopped suddenly and a few employees got in, staring openly at the national icon, who had his eyebrows slanted in confusion. The woman shared his sentiment: it was Tony's private elevator. She guessed all the other ones were too full in the mornings so the tower's AI put the underused one to work.

Or, at least, that's what she tried to convince herself of anyway. It wouldn't be past Tony to get jealous over something as trivial as sharing an elevator car with Captain America.

The plateau of normalcy didn't last long. Just as she was opening her third bottle of wine for the night, laptop open on the kitchen counter and proudly displaying "Tony Stark and Pepper Potts - America's newest power couple?" article, she realised he was a coward, too. Slowly but surely, he had ghosted her, not even bothering with an explanation of his sudden unavailability, the several dates missed and even more postponed indefinitely.

They were never going to be a normal couple. She had made her peace with that, ugly and depressing - but it was real. She thought what they had was real. She finally had admitted to herself that she loved him, loved an impossible man, loved to the bottom of Hell and pitfire. The fireworks under her skin had never fully gone away, she realised as more and more ugly sobs broke from her chapped lips.

She blocked his number again and bought herself a new one, deleting the "Tony Stark" contact for good. There was more than enough work to do and the time to feel sorry for herself was sparse. And if she picked up a habit to make sure the time working was spent with proper efficiency, without soaking documents in saltwater that her eyes seemed to overproduce those days? It wasn't a big deal. She needed to get back on her feet somehow, without being dragged by a man who wasn't even present to actively be ruining her life anymore.

If anything, she thought she should feel grateful. The blinding light, the stars that exploded and shone inside her only for Tony, became something poisonous and vile. It wasn't the bitter taste of regret; rather, she felt a flash of ravenous, burning anger every time his name or his face popped up in a press article within her eyesight. Love and hate weren't that different when it came to the intensity: she basked in those newfound feelings, taking care to pick apart and neatly sort each of his perceived flaws on a cute little shelf in her overtaxed brain and fatigued heart.

It wasn't healthy. A convenient escape for the summer; a cabin far, far away from the busy New York city - she took up the offer and relocated there, being content with working remotely, drinking strawberry mimosas by the lakeside. Day by day, the clarity of her mind returned, lulled into a false sense of security by the tranquil trees slowly swaying in the breeze and wide ripples in the water.

Tony seemed to be enjoying bringing chaos into her life and making her miserable. The quinjet landed right on the neatly manicured lawn in front of the cabin, several obviously exhausted and wounded superheroes dismounting the vehicle, Tony looking sheepish but determined in the lead.

She wasn't completely unaware of the rest of the world and knew of the fiasco the Avengers recently had. Was it the half-dead, limping Widow or the baby blues of the Captain, she couldn't tell, but the woman ushered them into her house, gathering the tools needed for first aid with haste. Fate wasn't looking to give her a break.

As soon as she stepped foot in the kitchen, alone, Tony was there, looking much like that time on the balcony, baby doe browns turned up to eleven and a groveling speech prepared on demand. He'd noticed her weight loss and the ashen tone of her skin, the prominent veins and the bags under her eyes. She was as obvious as a brick to the face with her vices.

She slapped him. He winced, but stayed quiet, preparing himself for the storm - and storm him she did, keeping quiet enough for most of the team to be able to tactfully ignore the scolding Tony was getting. "I despise, you, Stark. You're a coward. Do not dare to set foot in my house ever again."

Needless to say, the superheroes departed shortly after Natasha's injuries were stabilised and frowning, disappointed Thor and Steve (they'd asked her to address them by their first names) bashfully apologized for their sudden intrusion and any discomfort they might have caused. She smiled at Steve, wide and big; refusing to admit it was done just to spite Tony, she joked and blushed in response to the Captain.

Tony did not attempt to contact her again. For some time, she lived in fear - irrational one at that - he'd appear and wreck her life one more, final time, before admiring the destruction and leaving her a steaming pile of ashes on the floor. But seasons passed and all of it faded, like a vivid, terrible nightmare.

Piece by piece, her life was getting put back together. His name stopped invoking a swarm of feelings she needed to drown just to stay afloat; there were news regarding him, another violent altercation, and she simply flicked the TV back to adult swim. New friends and new hobbies were being made; the fine cracks made by his agile fingers were being filled with the gold of newer, better discoveries.

There was always something going on in the superhero world and finally one of the topics reached her line of work: mutant rights. She'd never stopped being a volunteer after that NYC invasion, making new connections in a domain previously unexplored, it paid off in spades regarding her career growth. The connections were vital to be able to climb the corporate ladder successfully.

Stark showed up at her door three days after half of his merry band of misfits were pronounced fugitives. This time, she expected it. She knew better than to expect him to assume responsibility by himself - a quick Google search and his relationship status was listed as once again single - the Virginia Potts she knew would not have let anything like that happen. Stark was on his own.

"They betrayed me," He'd said, from behind the door she had cracked open a few inches, to make him know he wasn't welcome in her home.

"I think you know now, how I felt then," She didn't falter, ignoring the way his still freshly-bruised face darkened. "As far as I am concerned, you deserve it. Goodbye, Tony." She shut the door without waiting for his response, hearing his footsteps slowly back away as she made herself another coffee.

Tony Stark taglist: @another-stark-sub @letsby @mostly-marvel-musings @rdjesus4ever @ladyeliot

Well um 💀 yeah. I'll go and attempt to scavenge some serotonin somewhere now. Thanks for reading! 💖✨

#tony stark angst #tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x you #bun writes: drabbles #bun writes #this is me tearing your heart out and having it for dinner 💚#it's okay i obsess over this scenario and send myself spiraling at least twice a month

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feralnumberfive · 4 years ago

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The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho”

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely.

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse?

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.”

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder?

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00*

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in?

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer.

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

#surprise here's another long over due post!#tra #the rewatch academy #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy

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littledevil-jpeg · 4 years ago

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Okay, so last post I was giving Lucifer 5B some credit for getting me interested and intrigued about a shitty character, so, as all things should be balanced, here comes the other side of the question. I'll say right off the bat that Lucifer was never a show I took seriously, all at once because of the tone, the way they chose to develop and delve into the themes, the monster-of-the-week format (though also done in spn, there it's redeemed by the darker tone and more subtle theme-development. Obviously, this is S1-S5 I'm talking about) and again the overall way this world works. I've been known to accuse Cobra Kai and even Breaking Bad for coincidence-bending, but they don't even come close to the level of Lucifer here. Then, of course, there's how easy everything is, like a bloody sled on ice: drugs - no problem, kill someone - no problem, infiltrate a mafia group - no fooking problem. How? Well, glaze over that, it's not that important. Except it is. Remember how in that same Breaking Bad Walter's team spent considerable chunks of the show planning, hiding evidence, preparing, measuring little details, diligently covering up their tracks. And they were only involved in a measly drug manufacturing business. Imagine the shit Lucifer runs, with crime bosses, drugs, demons and prostitutes piling out of his front door. Obviously it's a show about angels and demons, and the realism isn't the focus of the program, but still, these things matter. There's always a convenience to it. Like, oh, you need to infiltrate the Russian mafia or some shit? Don't worry, I know a guy - and poof, problem gone. That's not even to mention the universe bending out of shape all around Lucifer, everyone (Chloe especially) putting up with his humiliating bullshit, the fact that he would be kicked out the police in anything even remotely resembling real life, that the mc's get away with almost everything, the unrealistic dialogue that no human irl ever speaks, the second-hand embarrassment, the cheesy "morale" speeches, the dull, predictable cases that are all done by the same formula... and more. So okay, there's a lot, a lot, of problems with this show. Which is why no one really takes it that seriously, we all know it's kind of trashy. But "kind of trashy" is one thing. Now, when season 5 introduces a genuine "evil twin" that we're meant to take with even a bit of seriousness, in the footsteps of such chef d'oeuvres as Dispicable Me 3, when that twin is the most caricature-like villain in recent history, when the allmighty is a buffoon with half a brain, forget omniscient, and isn't even in-line with the stuff he's done before, when one of the main cast is offed as though mid-sentense, with no lead-up, no foreshadowing, no preamble, like a toss of a dice, when the main character is on a race to become God himself, and his love interested Mrs God, and when, oh, Jesus fucking Christ, just stop already! I truly wonder if the writer's room a big dart board with all these drunk-ass ideas stuck onto it, and they blind throw to make the next season. It's finally hitting me now, as I'm writing this, what on god's green earth I watched yesterday.

Why does Lucifer need to become God? Why does a war in Heaven even have to be introduced? Why not focus of the more intricate inter-personal conflicts on Earth, on the characters and their mentalities, on those meaningful arcs that hold actual importance, and emotion, and down-to-earth (lol), well, meaning again. Why do we need a heavenly war? Why does Lucifer need the approval of the angels, when the moral seems to be that he makes himself who he is, not his status, not his people, not his past and not the Silver City (an excellent moral, by the way, so credit where it's due. This self-actualisation business is the second best thing in the whole show)? I get that this is why the majority vote doesn't work, but then what does work? Are they ment to self-actualise into becoming God? Now, I'm aware it's left uncertain whether Luci really is God, so I won't go there for now, but then we have the issue of his resurrection. Was it a reward for self-sacrifice? That wouldn't fit so well, considering all the previous sacrifices that were much more impressive than this one. And what's the philosophy behind that - he's acting out of love? But to what end, if by dying he practically fucked all the other people on Earth, including the very same Chloe he just brough back down? Are these really the qualities for a God to have?

Or did he once again self-actualise, but this time he actualised himself to life? That would truly be a stake-killer. I saw a theory that he finally saw himself as worthy of Heaven, which doesn't quite link to coming back to life. Well, these are perhaps, once again, speculations, and maybe this will be cleared up next season. As for Lucifer's God status, it's a shitty move on the writers' part. Not only was the execution rushed, but thematically, again, Lucifer becoming God to feel worthy of Chloe is nonsense. From a plot and theme standpoint, why does this need to happen? This Godly status holds no meaning, no emotional worth, it's not fullfilling, not symbolic of anything fitting other than that same old "bad to good" and I guess the irony of the Devil becoming God, but the irony is an empty one if it has no real meaning. Which is the case. The whole thing is empty of substance, and I don't know why they went there. You know, it's hollow anyway, not least because Lucifer really doesn't deserve it. Even this season, he is nothing but a child - he acts and thinks like a child, he unchangeably does the same "projecting" bs from season to season to season with no actual sign of emotional maturity other than that in the words of other characters. But you can say he's different all you want, it's not gonna work if the subtle signs of his change aren't there. Say, imagine if Endeavor kept running his mouth about atonement, but kept dutifully abusing his kids - this is that. And yeah, Lucifer loves Chloe in his own way, cares about her, and even comes out of his self-absorbed little world for her, which by the way bugged me about their uneven relationship since season 1 (you know, treating her like shit with a flimsy excuse and then "making up" for it with a grand gesture of sacrifice or a round of angsty suffering. Time after time, every time.)

And finally, of course, there's the issue of how inconsiderate it is to Chloe for him to become God. I mean, it's dead obvious no relationship will be possible there, not without becoming even more unhealthy than it already seems. Themathic significance and meaning aside, even then, even in-universe, it's a shitty thing Lucifer does, again, for himself. So that he feels worthy of Chloe. What she feels, once he's made it his goal to do something, essentially doesn't matter anymore. And the plot fascilitates this splendidly, I mean, she always forgives him without fault like a well-oiled machine. Always, whatever he does, and it's gotten old a long time ago. We know Lucifer can do anything, anything at all, and he will be forgiven - by Chloe, by Maze, by Dan, by Linda, by Amenadiel, by anyone that he needs to forgive him. You'll be lucky if they don't do it the same episode, and extraordinarily lucky if it takes them three or four.

There are many other things to discuss this season, like Dan's ridiculously badly written death, Chloe's whole character stagnation, the, khm, the musical episode, the saturaday morning cartoon villain problem, the fact that Michael manages to descieve an omniscient being, and God himself. I might do those separately, might not, we'll see, as those aren't nearly as interesting to dissect as the above.

Aaaand, anyway, if he is now God, I strongly suspect they'll play the angle of "even though he's God, he stills feels shitty, as true self-love/worth comes from elsewhere" and the usual thing.

#lucifer 5b #lucifer season five #lucifer season 5 #lucifer season six #lucifer #michael demiurgos #michael #lucifans #lucifer netflix #lucifer 5x16 #lucifer 5a #lucifer x chloe #chloe deserves better #chloe decker

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taeken-my-heart · 4 years ago

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Revenant Chapter 3

Summary: You’d always been told that when you died that you’d walk into the light towards Heaven. Only problem is, you died and the light never showed up. Now you’re attached to a handsome but grumpy and sleep deprived medical student and neither one of you knows what to do to get you to finally cross over.

Rating: PG15

Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Fluff, angst, Ghost!au, MedicalStudent!Namjoon

Word Count: 5433

Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse and one seizure in future chapters.

The rest of Namjoon’s shift, you spent in a daze. He worked shadowing his nurse, Sasha, quietly and efficiently, occasionally sending you worried glances.

His concern was sweet, but made you feel a little annoyed all the same. You didn’t like feeling so out of control, like a damsel in distress waiting for someone else to solve her problems for her. The good news was that you weren’t dead…the bad news was pretty much everything else.

Where was your family? Were you truly alone there in that bed? Did no one claim you or did they not know? You’d heard of comas before, of course you had, but your knowledge on them was limited. It seemed like people were either in short comas, a rare extended coma for years at a time…or they eventually died.

You wondered, not for the first time, what you had left behind when you’d suddenly…well, you couldn’t explain what you were experiencing currently. Perhaps the “between” of life and death. Regardless, you wondered if anyone was missing you; if anyone even noticed you were gone. If you slipped away, perhaps no one would even notice. Or, and maybe worse, perhaps you’d wake up and find that there was no one there waiting for you.

Maybe Namjoon would stick around. Maybe Jimin would actually be excited to see what you look like. It was all speculation and it really wasn’t getting you anywhere except for a reality you weren’t sure existed for you anymore…but somehow, it made you feel a little better.

. .

The subway ride home was silent. All seats taken, both you and Namjoon stood by the doors. His hand wrapped around the leather strap above his head and you leaned against metal bars as the train lurched to a start. Being with him was almost like being alive; the familiarity of the screeching wheels across the tracks almost bringing back memories. That tickling familiarity of something you can’t quite remember but is scratching right at the surface. It was nice.

You took time to study the passengers in the same car as you. All tired from a long day of work; the air was stuffy with the heat of their exhaustion. Namjoon himself leaned into his arm; eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks as he stared blankly through the glass of the windows. His fatigue was palpable and you found yourself wishing you could reach out to him. To rub the weariness from his eyes.

You followed after him quietly at his exit, moving towards the direction of his apartment. The crowds thinned the further you got from the station until it was just the two of you walking along the sidewalk under the hanging leaves of maple.

The evening had cooled into pleasant warmth by the time you’d reached Namjoon’s apartment building. You almost regretted having to go inside when it felt so nice out, but you coveted the company of the one person who could see you so you followed him through the lobby and into the elevator.

Jimin arrived home not long after Namjoon had finished his shower. He watched his friend shuffle around the room looking cozy and warm in flannel bottoms and a long white t-shirt, drying his hair with a towel. You watched as Jimin surveyed the room curiously, eyebrows creasing at the silence.

You sat at the loveseat by the window, staring out into the quickly darkening evening, deep hues of crimson electrifying the sky one more time before the dark finally silenced it. “Is Y/N not here anymore?” Jimin asked his friend.

You watched from the corner of your eye as Namjoon’s eyes shifted to you before he mumbled an explanation to his friend. You didn’t need to be close enough to hear; you knew he was telling him about today.

“That’s good news, isn’t it?” Jimin asked loudly, eyes bouncing around the room as though he might find you. “Where is she?”

Namjoon looked towards you, nodding in your direction and Jimin’s eyes shifted your way. Once again, you found yourself wishing you weren’t invisible. “That’s good isn’t it, Y/N? You’re not dead, just in a coma!”

Namjoon groaned softly, shaking his head. “It’s never “just” a coma, Jimin. Be a little more sensitive; I’m sure it was shocking for her to see.”

Jimin muttered a soft apology and you sighed. Namjoon looked back at you. “It’s not even that, it’s just…no one was there with me. What if I died and no one cared? Or…what if I woke up and no one cared?”

“I would care!” Namjoon said and Jimin startled at his volume. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me. You wouldn’t be alone.”

“Me too!” Jimin said, nodding enthusiastically. “That made sense with what she said, right?” He whispered to his friend who nodded and you smiled.

“Thanks.” You mumbled before standing, making your way over to where they stood. Jimin’s eyes were still trained on the window and you grinned, looking over at Namjoon. “What are you guys having for dinner tonight?”

“She wants to know what we’re gonna eat tonight.” Namjoon said.

“Oh!” Jimin said with a hum, “I was thinking steak and potatoes.”

“You don’t have to shout.” Namjoon chuckled as you flinched away from his volume. “She’s standing right in front of us.”

Jimin smiled bashfully, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Sorry.”

“Do you mind if I sit with you? I know it’s hard having a conversation because Jimin can’t see or hear me…but I’d like to have the company right now.” You said softly, looking between the two.

Namjoon nodded, “of course you can join. Jimin, you want me to take potatoes?” Jimin nodded, patting his friend on the arm before heading to the fridge, pulling out a package of thawed steaks as Namjoon made his way to the pantry, pulling out a bag of potatoes and throwing some into the sink to wash.

“Jin should be home in an hour so if we time this right, we could be getting finished right when he gets back.” Jimin said, clattering around under the hob in search of a decent pan.

“I’m sure he’d appreciate a warm dinner.” Namjoon hummed and you moved to stand beside him.

“Who’s Jin?”

“He’s our other roommate,” Namjoon said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. “He graduated college last year; works in investment. He’s been on a business trip the last 5 days and his flight is actually probably landing right about now.”

“How long have you guys known each other?” You asked, leaning your back against the counter beside him. His eyelashes were surprisingly long; long enough to make any woman jealous. His cheeks dimpled as he drew his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing softly. He flipped the water on, scrubbing the potatoes one by one as he answered.

“Actually, we’ve all been friends since elementary school. Jimin and Jin are cousins and when my family moved to the same neighborhood as Jimin’s, we just kind of met organically.”

“I wish I could tell you about my own life.” You bemoaned, “But unfortunately I don’t remember really anything.”

“Someday.” He said, turning to you with a smile, cheek dimpling in once more and your heart fluttered wild. “Someday you can tell us all about your life.”

You stood chatting with them for the next hour while they cooked, wishing you could help. As it was, everything seemed to be going straight through your hands these days. When you’d first arrived in this in between place, you’d almost been able to move things. Everything had felt a little more solid, a little more concrete, but now it seemed like the world was becoming like the wispy memories of a dream.

Jimin was just pulling the tray of roasted vegetables from the oven, when keys in the front door alerted you to the arrival of the final roommate. You moved towards it, enjoying for once the ability your “in between” gave you to be a creeper unseen. Aside from Namjoon, of course.

The front door swung open revealing an extremely handsome man in a dark blue business suit, ebony hair pushed back and away from his face. “Is there a website where you find all these good-looking roommates?” You quipped lightly, “Hotguy.com? Maybe I can search for a boyfriend on there if I wake up.”

Namjoon gave you a tight-lipped smile before turning his attention to his roommate with a loud greeting. It seemed that you would be going back to invisible now that Jin was home. You didn’t really mind, though; you understood. Having to explain to Jimin had been trying enough, he didn’t need to risk another person thinking he was crazy for your sake.

“My bro’s!” Jin shouted loudly, leaving his suitcase by the door and coming in to give hugs. “Steak? You guys are the best! I’m starving.”

“Yeah, grab a plate and load up. Everything is ready.” Jimin said, sending Namjoon a look.

Jin filled his plate with steak, mashed potatoes, and roasted vegetables before sitting heavily at the table and taking the knife and fork Namjoon handed to him with a thank you. “How was your trip?” Namjoon asked, coming to sit down beside him with his own plate. He’d made a well in the middle of his potatoes, filling them so full of gravy that it had gone spilling over the rest of his plate.

It looked delicious and you pouted sadly at the sight. What you wouldn’t give to have a bite. “Trip was good,” Jin said, cutting off a huge chunk of sirloin and shoving it in his mouth. “Different way of life out there, man. Everyone’s just really slowed down, taking things one moment at a time. And the women…I’ve never seen so many gorgeous women in my life. I spent most nights lounging out on the beach, taking in the view.”

“I heard they’ve got a great club scene.” Jimin said excitedly, scooping potatoes up with his spoon and sending his cousin a look.

“Definitely, though I only went out one night. Too many early mornings to make clubbing on weeknights reasonable.”

“Old man.” Jimin scoffed playfully. Jin smacked him hard and Namjoon chuckled.

“Ya, have some respect.” Jin scolded and you watched enviously as he polished off the last of his steak, moving on to the pile of potatoes. “You won’t be in your early 20’s forever. Besides, I’m only three years older than you!”

“Did you bring me something back, mom?” Jimin teased. Jin scowled then sniffed, shaking some hair out of his eyes.

“I might have brought you something.” He mumbled begrudgingly and Jimin tore from his seat to grab his cousin’s suitcase and drag it into the kitchen. “Hey! The wheels are dirty!” Jin complained, but Jimin paid him no mind.

Tearing the zipper down, he laid the hard-shell suitcase on its side, opening to an explosion of clothes and a couple gift bags rumpled in the center. “Which one’s mine?” He asked greedily. Jin pointed to the small blue bag, reaching over to grab the green one next to it and handing it to Namjoon.

“This is for you,” he said bashfully, “they’re nothing big, just little trinkets from a beach side hut I was passing one night. Reminded me of you guys.”

Jimin tore into the wrapping in his own bag, pulling out a puka shell necklace before shouting out an excited exclamation of appreciation. Namjoon was much more composed as he opened his own. He pulled a small wooden turtle keychain from the packaging, examining it carefully.

It was beautiful and intricate, made from rich koa wood and looking like it had been hand whittled with a pocket knife. As Jin began to explain his conversation with the owner of the small hut, you decided that it probably was hand made.

You moved closer to Namjoon, examining the workmanship over his shoulder. “Thanks, hyung.” Namjoon said, smiling at his friend. “If I ever get to go anywhere, I’ll make sure to bring something back for you.”

Jin waved him off, pulling the empty plates from the table and running the water in the sink as it turned from cold to warm before plugging the drain and squirting globs of soap. He slid the plates into the water to let them soak. “I don’t expect anything from you guys; besides, I’ve already got a great job, decent pay, a nice apartment, and an incredibly handsome face, it’s my duty to treat you guys as a thank you to the universe for truly giving me it all.”

Jimin scoffed loudly, rolling his eyes as he fiddled with the clasp of his new necklace. “Talk louder, hyung, they can’t hear how obnoxious you are in Antartica and the whole world truly deserves to know.”

“I just gave you a really nice gift!” Jin complained loudly to their laughter, but you could see the smile in the corner of his lips and the glint of humor in his eyes. “And zip my suitcase back up, you slob. You dropped my Ralph Lauren shirt on floor!”

Jimin laughed, leaning over and shoving everything back into Jin’s suitcase with little to no care before zipping it back up and sitting it back on its wheels.

“I think I’m gonna get ready for bed.” Namjoon said, standing and stretching his arms over his head. A sliver of skin came into view, in between the flannel of his pajama bottoms and the soft cotton of his t-shirt and you found yourself suddenly thirsty. “Didn’t get much sleep last night and I’ve got another early morning tomorrow.”

He exchanged goodbyes with his roommates before sending you a final soft smile, retreating to his bedroom and closing the door.

. .

Seeing your body again in the morning light was as strange as it was the day before, though you were more prepared this time. You moved back towards the top of your bed, watching as your chest rose and fell. Namjoon stood on the other side, stethoscope attached to his ears and lingering over where your heart was.

You could almost feel the chill of the metal as it glided across your chest, searching for whatever he needed to fill in notes on his clip board. You reached towards yourself, fingers gliding across wisps of your hair. “Namjoon,” you whispered, and he looked up at you. “I can feel my hair. It’s faint…but I can feel it.”

“Really?” He asked excitedly, “maybe being beside your body is a good thing. Maybe it will help you to wake up.”

You were about to say something more when conversation from the hallway distracted you and a group of people suddenly entered the room. An older woman, perhaps in her 50’s, a man not so much older with an athletic build and thinning hair, two younger men, not much older than yourself, and a young girl, clinging to the dress of the woman.

Namjoon looked from you to them, but your vision suddenly tunneled as the little girl ran towards your bed. You followed her with your eyes, as she rushed out to hold your hand, tear stained face pinched as she cried out a soft, “mommy!”

“Mommy?” You murmured as all the noise of the room ceased and like the whistle of a kettle, loud and screeching in your brain, all memory came flooding back. Your parents, your brothers, your abusive ex-boyfriend- your daughter. “Cora.” You exhaled, watching as she clung to your hand, holding it up to her little face.

You remembered it all. The bat he’d brought with him, the anger, the excuses, the pain of a beating you’d thought for sure would kill you. You reached up to touch the side of your face, finding tears in place of blood as you watched the rest of your family greet Namjoon.

He explained to them briefly how you were doing this morning, chancing glances over at you, but your gaze had returned to that of the little girl standing beside your bed. Your daughter. How could you have ever forgotten her? The spitting image of you, you once again thanked the heavens she hadn’t inherited anything from her father but his height.

She was tall for a four-year-old, usually lively, and happy. Tear-stained cheeks were whiplash for you and you longed to reach for her and hold her in your arms. When you’d first found out you were pregnant with her, it was a hugely bitter pill to swallow.

She wasn’t unwanted, but the permanent connection to her emotionally and physically abusive father left you feeling like a sinking ship. You’d felt overwhelmed by the decisions you faced, especially daunting due to your young age. The situation was terrifying, but you were not one to depend on others and you immediately rose to the challenge.

It was difficult at first. No, it was still difficult…but she was worth it. You only regretted that the time it took to make money to keep the two of you afloat was time you were unable to spend with her. You felt cheated as you looked down at her; of all the time you could have spent with her up until this moment that was all now gone.

Things could have been different, if you had waited, if you’d been patient enough to find a man worthy of being her father. Someone responsible and loving. Like Namjoon. You looked over at him as he stood by the door. He nodded at you before stepping from the room and you appreciated him now more than ever. You needed this time to be with your family, even if they couldn’t see you.

“Oh, my darling.” You heard your mother say from the other side of the bed and you turned to face her as she leaned down, dropping a kiss onto your forehead. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be here yesterday, but we’ve got good news! As you know, Tim was arrested and we’re moving forward with the charges. We had to talk to our lawyer yesterday and that’s why we couldn’t be here. They found the weapon, though. He won’t get away with this. He won’t.”

The tremble in her voice broke your heart. You wanted to tell her that it was all ok, that you were there and could hear her…but of course it wasn’t all ok, you weren’t even sure you’d ever wake up, though you felt a lot more hopeful today. You had something to live for; people who loved you and wanted you back with them. You weren’t alone like you’d feared.

“It’s good to see you here, Y/N.” Your brother, Luke, murmured, rubbing his hand up and down one of your legs and you could feel the tingles of pressure. It made you want to cry from joy. That had to be a good sign, it just had to be! “For a while there you really scared us…we weren’t sure…well, we just didn’t know what would happen. You being here is good, though. This is a move in the right direction.”

“When will mommy wake up?” Cora sighed and you turned to look down at her. She was clinging to the limp hand at your side, pressing it up against her cheek and your heart hurt.

“Come here, lovey.” Your mom said, waving her over and Cora let go of your hand with a pout, making her way to her grandmother’s lap and allowing herself to be coddled.

You were so grateful to have such a good family. If you were to die, you knew Cora would be taken care of, that she would be OK. That thought gave you a lot of peace and you sat down on the edge of your hospital bed to hear them all talk.

It was strange to not be able to contribute to their conversation, but you were glad to at least be hearing and seeing them. You could say your piece later, when you woke up. Luke told you all about his girlfriend, how he was thinking about proposing soon, but he wanted you to be awake first. You wished you could tell him to just do it! They’d been dating for five years now and Emma was like a sister to you.

Your other brother, Ethan, told you he’d recently broken up with his girlfriend. You didn’t mind that so much since she’d been a prima-donna and you knew your whole family agreed. He smiled when he said it so you had the feeling he wasn’t really hurting from the change of relationship. Your dad was thinking of retiring. Then again, he’d said this once a year for the last three years, so you weren’t so sure about his follow through on this one either.

You sat with them until they had to go. Cora was complaining of hunger and your mom looked like she needed a nap. You followed them to the door and walked with them as they made their way to the elevator. You knew if you went any further, you may not be able to get back to your body, so you watched as your family stepped into the elevator, pushing the button for the 1st floor. It felt strange to wonder if you’d see them again. The doors closed slowly and you kept your eyes trained on your daughter until the very last second when the polished steel shielded her entirely from view.

You wandered the halls after that, looking casually for Namjoon, but mostly enjoying the solitude. You had a lot to think about at the moment and didn’t mind so much being alone. You were kept company by the whirl of the air conditioning and chatter of nearby doctors and nurses.

There was something appealing about being here. To watch people helping other people, people like you, through difficult times in their life. You could only imagine it was fulfilling. Difficult, but really made you feel like you were doing something good. It was probably too late to go to college now, but maybe you could do something like this if you ever woke up.

Your mom always liked to say, “now’s not the time for never.” As a child, it made absolutely no sense to you, but as an adult you could appreciate the sentiment. There was always another day to try something new. You weren’t sure what that would be yet, but it gave you another thing to look forward to for when you woke up.

When Namjoon’s day was over, you followed him back towards home, welcoming the air conditioning of his apartment. Jimin nor Jin were home yet, so you moved towards the living room to sit down. “How you feeling?” Namjoon asked gently from his place on the other side of the kitchen island.

You looked over at him, his perfectly styled hair still in place. He was wearing glasses now, pushed right up against his face and he looked tired from the long day. “I’m alright.” You murmured. “Actually, I’m better than alright. I’m good; great even. I remember everything, my family, my daughter, my beating, unfortunately. But remembering is good; it gives me something to fight for.”

“So that was your daughter?” Namjoon asked, coming to sit down beside you.

You nodded, pulling your feet up underneath you on the couch. “Yeah, she’s four. She was, of course, a surprise. It’s unfortunate that her father is who he is, but I’ve never regretted her. She’s always been a blessing.”

“What’s her name?”

“Cora.” You smiled and Namjoon’s head tilted in interest, grin peeling his mouth upwards.

“Didn’t you think you had a cat named Cora?” He chuckled.

“Yeah,” you laughed, tugging at the end of your shirt. “Turns out it was my kid.”

“Do you mind if…can I ask about what happened? Why he did…what he did?” Namjoon asked carefully.

You paused a moment to think; to remember the details of the last few years. “Tim…he’s always been present in Cora’s life, mostly at least, but the last few years he was becoming more irresponsible, a little more unhinged. We haven’t been together for years, since I was pregnant, and so she was with me a majority of the time. Recently she started telling me about things he was doing while she was there that made me feel concerned.”

“I started dating him when I was going through a rebellion phase. I felt like my parents were too restrictive and he represented everything they opposed so I was drawn to him. Stupid, yeah, but I was 17. Anyway, when I got pregnant and decided to keep the baby, I just realized that everything he was doing was not the right environment for a child so we broke up. Problem is, even when Cora came along, he kept doing those things and it got worse every year.”

“So, a few months ago I started seeking full custody and we got in a big fight about it. He said I was wrong to try and take his kid away from him and I told him if he cleaned up his act, I wouldn’t have to do it. Of course, I want Cora to have her dad in her life, but he’s a mess. Anyway, he didn’t like that, so early one morning when I’d gotten off work and he knew Cora was with my parents, he came by to “talk.” We both know how that ended up. I guess he thought that if I were dead, there’d be no custody battle.”

Namjoon’s expression was hard to read as he stared down at the carpet, absorbing the information. His body language was anything but. Shoulders bunched stiff and hands squeezed white in his lap, he looked up at you with a scowl. “He deserves to get what he gave.” He muttered angrily and you smiled, reaching out to touch his hands.

“I imagine he’ll get a taste of his own medicine when he goes to prison.” You soothed.

Namjoon stared down at your hand on his as though entranced and you began to wonder if the sensation was too strange to handle. Extracting your hand, you moved away slowly, but he reached forward as though to grab it back. “I could feel your hand more this time. It was still…different, but it felt like it had more presence.” He said in amazement.

“That’s got to be a good sign, right?” You smiled.

“I would think so. I mean, there’s not documented cases like ours, though perhaps they’ve happened before. I can’t imagine many people will admit it out loud. But having a strong grasp of your senses seems positive!”

You hummed, leaning back into the couch cushions. “So, tell me about yourself, Namjoon. What’s your life been like? All I really know about you is that you’re studying to become a doctor and you think Eunae is the bee’s knees.”

“What are you, 80?” He flushed, running a hand through his hair and dislodging the gel holding it. “I just think she’s pretty, but we don’t really know each other. We talk sometimes in the hallways, but honestly, I think she might be into Hoseok.”

“Oh?” You asked at his shrug, “why do you think that?”

“He’s just so nice, girls really dig him. He’s completely oblivious, but I’ve seen the way she looks at him.”

“Do you think he’d be interested in her?” You asked carefully, watching his expression, but he was guarded in this moment.

He shrugged again. “Maybe. She’s nice and pretty and fairly outgoing. He likes that type of girl, but he’s also a loyal friend and he’d never make a move if he thought I wouldn’t like it…I don’t think I’d mind, though.”

“You wouldn’t mind him making a move?”

“Not really. I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s still pretty and nice, but I don’t know, over the last few days my interest in her specifically has just kind of…waned.”

“Well, I guess that can be good.” You said with a smile, “I never liked being hung up on someone if it wasn’t going to move forward. Not to say you guys couldn’t move forward!”

He chuckled, waving off the comment. “I know what you mean. Besides, I tend to like the girl I could never have.”

You frowned, watching as he stood and moved back to the kitchen. “I think you could totally go on a date with her, if you asked. You’re handsome, smart, and nice. What’s not to like?”

“Thanks.” He flushed, pulling some juice from the fridge and going to grab a cup. “I’m not talking about Eunae, though. I just mean in general…I tend to like the girl that’s…untouchable.”

“On purpose?” You asked, bewildered and Namjoon laughed at your expression.

“No, of course not on purpose!” He huffed, sliding the bottle of juice back in the fridge and grabbing his cup. He made his way back to the couch, sitting back with a sigh. “It just ends up happening that way.”

“Well, what about your family?” You asked, turning to face him.

“Would I date them?” He smirked and you scoffed, smacking your hand against his shoulder.

“Ew, no! Just tell me about them, you weirdo.”

He laughed, eyeing your hand again as it settled in your lap before he resumed talking. “My parents live a few hours north, enjoying being empty nesters, I think. My little sister is in her second year of college and loving life. Studying criminology. I’ve got one amazing dog that is the true love of my life, and on weekends I like to do crossword puzzles on my phone.”

“Really?” You asked as he sipped at his juice.

“Yeah, really.” He chuckled. “It keeps my mind active.”

You sighed, comically loud, before turning to smile at him. “Well, I guess you are just as big a nerd as I thought.”

“Hey!” Namjoon scolded loudly and you laughed. The room returned to silence once more as you stared out the windows as the sky darkened. Namjoon finished his juice and placed it on the coffee table before he spoke again. “What do you think you’ll do when you wake up?

“When, huh?”

“Seems like a good chance of it, all things considered.”

You nodded with a smile. “I hope so. I suppose the first thing I’ll want to do is cuddle my baby. After that, I don’t know. Depends when I can get out of the hospital bed.” You thought for a moment about what you’d really like to do before something occurred to you. “Actually, what I’d really like to do is get a new job. I have two jobs right now that take the majority of my time and I don’t get to see Cora as much as I would like.”

“That’s my priority. After that…well…maybe I’d want to start dating again.”

Namjoon looked at you in surprise. “Oh? Do you have someone in mind?”

You shrugged, looking away from him. “I have someone in mind that I’d like to go on a date with, sure, but no point in getting hopes up about it now. I’ll wait until I wake up and go from there.”

“It’s Jimin, isn’t it?” He said it teasingly, but something in his expression was pinched and it didn’t look so much like he liked the thought of that.

You scoffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You didn’t really want to play a guessing game about it; weren’t ready to admit it was him you were talking about. “How about I tell you when I wake up?”

“Fair enough.” Namjoon replied, rolling his eyes good naturedly. “I’m gonna hold you to it, though.”

“Sure.” You smiled.

Just then Jin and Jimin came banging through the front door, arms full as they made their way into the kitchen. “We brought the goods!” Jin hollered loudly as Jimin went back to close the front door.

“Chicken and beer. Come get some, Joon.”

You spent the rest of the evening huddled in the living room with them as they snacked on fried chicken and drank themselves to giggles. You wondered, not for the first time, why you couldn’t have met them before. Why you couldn’t have gotten to know them as someone real and tangible? Not some strange in between being. Why you couldn’t have been around Namjoon sooner. After all, when it really came down to it, he was now half the reason you wanted to wake up.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed and thank you for being patient. I’ve been home sick for the last two days so I was able to finish this chapter finally. Please let me know what you think, it means the world to me!

Next (finale)

#btsbookclub #namjoon scenario #namjoon fanfic #namjoon x reader #namjoon fluff #namjoon angst #bts namjoon #bts rm #bts rm x you #bts rm x reader #rm scenario #rm angst #rm fluff

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ernmark · 5 years ago

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On Nureyev’s (not quite) inevitable betrayal

So, in one of the first deviations from narrator-exclusive perspective, we learn that Peter Nureyev has done what we all feared: he’s decided to betray the crew of the Carte Blanche in order to clear his debts.

Narratively, it was bound to happen. You don’t drop that many references to Peter’s debts without making good use of them later on in the story. It’s the good ol’ Law of Conservation of Detail.

Character-wise, though? Not so much. In fact, I think he didn’t seriously intend to do so until he was pushed into a corner. Specifically, inside the Morpheus Maximum-Security Server Farm.

At this point, he believed that

1) He, Rita, and Juno all had their consciousness severed from their bodies and stuck in machines. If the robots were destroyed, it is very possible that their minds would be destoryed.

2) His real name was readily available to just anyone (never mind that Rita isn’t just anyone) who bothers to look for it. All his tricks for disappearing and remaining anonymous left him just as vulnerable as he was without them.

NUREYEV: Stop, Rita. Stop. You could just… look me up, then? The information was just… out there?

RITA: I mean… all information is just “out there,” Mista Ransom. If it helps, yours was real hard to find. (Ultrabots)

3) Dark Matters knew about them by name, knew their plans, and had followed them to the server farm.

AGENT G: Our orders are to take the Aurinkos in alive, and the tracker on our MorphDrone says they’ve come here.

4) Within fifteen minutes, the facility and the robots inside it would be destroyed, and there was no actual way to get offsite.

DARK MATTERS AGENT 1: All Agents are instructed to ignite self-destruct 19 explosives in fifteen minutes.

This is a despair event horizon for him.

NUREYEV: Then… I suppose that’s it. (SOUNDING FULLY DEFEATED) Either they find and destroy us in the next fifteen minutes, or we’re shattered to pieces when they selfdestruct. And all we can do is hope that our minds remain intact on the other side. (PAUSE) I… think I need a moment. I’ll be in the garage.

In a matter of minutes, he’s been suckerpunched in every direction. He feels small and fragile and vulnerable, and the thing they’re up against is insurmountable. Almost insurmountable.

Because he has one last trick up his sleeve (he always does). And sure, that means throwing away the New Man he’s been trying to become, but that seems like such a little thing compared to sure failure and a strong probability of being left brain dead. And later he can tell himself that it was to save Juno and Rita, too.

(He’s already gone by the time Rita comes up with her plan to save them all. Waiting for her would have taken real faith in her, and that’s not something he has yet, not really.)

So what exactly happened?

That’s the big question.

We know that his comms communication was cut off.

It’s possible he was talking directly to one of the Dark Matters agents in the facility-- after all, a good chunk of Rita’s interpretation of Agent G’s breakdown was speculation.

RITA (NARRATOR): … Or that’s what I’m guessin’ Agent G saw, anyway. I don’t know, cuz it was all happenin’ in their bot’s visual and audio receptors.

We don’t know how long it took Rita to hack into those receptors, or exactly what was going on before then.

But I think Nureyev was talking to somebody in those minutes alone.

I think the sudden, merciful interruption of the self-destruct countdown was a response to what he did.

(Other possibilities exist, of course: that it was the Book that bought them a few more moments, or that Rita’s frantic babble inspired someone who overheard her to put a hold on the self-destruct. I prefer this one, personally. I prefer deliberate action from characters over happy accidents.)

I think when he was on his own, he was having a conversation (offering his betrayal to) the mysterious Mister _____.

NUREYEV: My payment will be delayed, yes. We’ve taken… well, a bit of a detour. But I’ve already cleared it with Mister…

He was clearly in regular contact with his creditors at every step along the way, sending them payments when he could. Likely he used the bust-full of jewels Nova Zolotovna gave him in order to make his most recent payment.

But the nature of his next payment seems to be a recent development.

NUREYEV: I’ve sent a full dossier your way — but for now, suffice it to say that before the year is out I will bring you four very special items. A very singular Map, Key, Blade, and Book.

This is not “as you know” language, and it’s not “as you know” information. This is something new. As new as the delay of his payment-- which, given that the “detour” to which he referred only actually happened three to four days ago, is pretty recent.

So. In summary:

I think Nureyev got mentally backed into a corner by all the stuff that happened all at once, so he called in a favor with his creditor. His creditor (possibly involved with Dark Matters) interfered with the Neurolink connection that would have triggered the self-destruct, allowing Nureyev, Juno, and Rita to escape alive with the Book.

#the penumbra podcast #penumbra meta #didja miss me?#because I missed doing these #100

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breakfast-cereal · 4 years ago

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Stupid For You (2) -Johnlock

← ← MAIN MASTERLIST

← PART ONE

PART THREE

!¡Trigger Warning¡! DO NOT IGNORE!: mentions to drugs and addiction, alcohol use, vomiting, hints to declining/poor mental health.

Rosie's hair was in a slightly dishevelled braid that reached just above her shoulder blades

"Youtube seems to be helpful for tutorials. Slightly inaccurate, though." Sherlock looked as if he was about to write down notes.

"It's YouTube, Sherlock." John looked at Rosie who had a massive grin on her face

Rosie rushed to Sherlock and wrapped her arms around him. "Thank you, daddy!"

Sherlock didn't seem to protest and accepted the role of a father figure to Rosie. John was confused by this. If Sherlock was a father figure to Rosie wouldn't that insinuate that he and John were together? Does that not bother Sherlock?

"No problem." Sherlock ushered Rosie back to her room and then sat back down to work on the case.

John sat on the couch, sneaking glances at Sherlock while watching some sports game on the telly. He reached for his phone on the table and scrolled through it while watching the telly and concentrating on Sherlock. John was hoping this would have some distraction from his headache. The light from his phone just seemed to make the headache worse. John had opened google and was staring down at it. His headache was horrible and those confusing feelings had returned to plague his thoughts. Without thinking, John entered "John Watson and Sherlock Holmes" into the search bar and entered it. He looked around anxiously as if someone was going to pop out of any corner and catch him looking at this. The worst would be Sherlock. Results popped up raging from "Johnlock" blogs to articles describing their relationship. John clicked on the first article and skimmed it until reaching a part that specifically piqued his interest.

Sherlock Holmes and his partner John Watson's relationship is obviously less than platonic. Relationship expert, Tiffany Laines has confirmed multiple theories with her video "Debunking 'Johnlock'." Laines stated in her video that "Holmes and Watson are very close for just roommates. It seems it's Holmes&Watson rather than just Holmes and Watson. Based on body language queues, like the leaning in from Watson, and the way Holmes' colleagues described him as brash whereas it seems John does not find him that way. Can this mean Holmes treats Watson differently? Of course, we can never be sure with their limited interaction, but my speculation is something is going on."

John read over that paragraph multiple times. He read it for what felt like hours. He stared and analyzed it wanting to know what they meant. What the secret meaning could be even though the truth stared back at him. He wanted to throw his phone. Launch it across the room. Find whoever wrote that article and beat them. Instead, John put his phone down and made his way up to make some tea.

"Tea?" He asked into the air, hoping Sherlock would maybe answer.

"Yes, that'd be nice."

John prepared two cups and watched while the water boiled in the kettle. He listened to it fizz and at some moments John wondered if it would boil over. John could be compared to a kettle. He would fizz and bubble until he reached a point where he would just stop or boil over completely. John believed he was a calm individual, though he wasn't. It's hard being calm when you're rather vigilant all the time.

"I've got it!" John spun to see Sherlock pacing around the house frantically. "It was so obvious how could I have not gotten it!",

"What?",

"It's objects! The numbers were words and the words were objects. I've got a lead, John.",

"How did you manage to get that out of a sheet of numbers?" John was impressed. Well, not impressed, because Sherlock could solve a murder with his eyes closed and hands tied, but his skills were always impressive.

"It became quite obvious with hints. The necklace the woman had is a precious object so at first, I thought it could be something expensive, but there's nothing expensive in our flat. Yes, I'm assuming it is in our flat, as the woman left these papers in our flat rather than taking them to Mrs. Hudson, or some other person. Of course, maybe it's just because she was one to visit us, but with the pieces of paper originally the coordinates seemed to also have directions that were rather similar to the way to get into our flat. To sum it down simply, there's clues in certain objects in our flat." Sherlock seemed so animated when he talked about these things. He always strived for perfection and clarity on his cases and when he got it, it's like it sent him into a high. "Don't drink the tea, by the way.",

"What's wrong with the tea?" John felt overwhelmed with this information. There were hidden messages all over the flat. What if he stepped on one? Or got it wet?

"You added milk to yours. It's expired. Strange you pour the milk before the water." John looked at the milk in his cup that had small chunks in it and dumped it down the sink, sugar swirling down with it.

The kettle finished as John was there and he poured it into Sherlock's cup. He waddled over to Sherlock's desk and placed the tea, noticing the messy state of affairs. Sherlock's desk had papers all over it. The papers in the centre focus were the ones from the most recent case. One paper had computer, Jane Eyre, heart, written on it, while all the others remained blank.

"Heart?" John felt a strange feeling when Sherlock looked panicked. Sherlock looked like that word wasn't supposed to be written.

"Likely mistake. I don't know why that word is there. Stupid mistake." Sherlock quickly flipped over the paper and overemphasized the grab of the cup. "Go watch telly or something. I'm busy." John hated the way Sherlock would brush him off so easily. Even with living with him all these years he still couldn't brush off the hurt it caused. He wanted to get his mind off this, but his mind immediately went to drinks. With what John remembered happened last night, drinking was the last thing he wanted to do. So instead, John left the flat.

He walked the opposite way from the pub. His mind thought of one thing and one thing only; Sherlock. He felt like one of those articles as he speculated what heart could be. Does Sherlock have a secret photo album of Irene Adler? John was sure that Sherlock didn't have any human organs (they had cleaned all those out after John screamed at Sherlock over the fact that if Rosie ever found them she'd be terrified.) Was heart meaning that Sherlock's heart had been taken? Was he in love with someone? John felt a spike of jealousy and resent for whoever this person was. How dare they have Sherlock's heart. Why can't it be John? John paused internally. Why was John so jealous? He didn't like Sherlock. He never liked Sherlock. Sherlock was a friend, but friends don't get jealous over their friend's relationship because they want it to be them. Maybe John wanted Sherlock as a little more than a friend, but he only liked women. His brain was just being weird again. It's because he hadn't been with any women in a while. He just missed Mary, and Sherlock was the only person around that he could be with, so his brain was just skipping to conclusions. John needed to meet someone. There was one person that came to mind, the woman he had met on the bus. He had always wanted more and now was the time for that. He could unblock her number and text her. It would be something that has no strings attached. It will help John get his mind off Sherlock. He'll be able to realize his feelings were stupid.

When John was back at the flat he felt strange guilt. Like sending a text to this woman would be cheating on Sherlock. Sherlock wasn't romantically interested in John at all. John stared at his phone and the text that was sitting and waiting to be sent

Would you maybe want to meet up sometime this week?

John shut off his phone, he needed time to consider. He wasn't sure what he wanted. He wanted something. He wanted someone, but this just didn't feel right to him. She didn't feel right for him. He felt like he would be using her. He would use her to distract himself from his own problems. He didn't need a distraction he needed advice. He really needed advice. Who was he supposed to get advice from?

John sat at a small table with a pink linen table cloth on it. The chairs were rickety and felt as if they were going to fall apart any moment, whereas the table cloth looked pricey and was clearly good quality. It had ballerinas dancing on it, and could definitely be used as a small blanket.

"What are you here for, John?" Mrs. Hudson asked,

"I need some advice." John expected Mrs. Hudson to be the last person he went to, but there he was, sitting in her flat.

"Aw, did something go down between you and Sherlock?",

"No, no, that's not it. Well, I mean. I don't know." John wanted to smack his head into the desk. "I need advice on feelings."

"Oh, John," Mrs. Hudson sounded genuinely caring. Or maybe John just wanted her to care.

"I'm not in love, before you think I am. I'm just confused and I want advice.",

"Is it Sherlock?" Mrs. Hudson knew before John. The articles knew before John. John realized with those words, that he was indeed stupid for Sherlock. He had to admit it to himself. He can't deny it all.

"I don't like men." Denial, denial, denial. All he did was deny. He had realized, but he wasn't going to acknowledge it. He may know, but if he ignores it, it's not real.

"I may be your landlady, but that doesn't make me oblivious." ,

"But I'm not-"

Mrs. Hudson interrupted him, "my advice is to stop denying it."

John pushed up from the table, shocked the chair didn't crumble. "I think that's enough advice for today." He hissed as he left the flat.

TAG LIST: @johnlocktrashsblog @ephemeraljimin @artefo @love-j0y

#johnlock #johnlock fanfic #john watson #sherlock holmes

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ganymedesclock · 5 years ago

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I kinda wanna hear your thoughts on NiGHTS, if you don't mind me asking. I just really like your speculation/headcanon posts!

I have great affection and great frustration for NiGHTS, honestly.

There’s a lot to love about the series. It’s got exquisite visuals and a really cool concept. While the gameplay isn’t completely my cup of tea, I think it’s a novel innovation. The designs of Nights and Reala, their bond and conflict, are really interesting and Wizeman’s a pretty impressive chunk of cosmic horror. I even feel like some of the dislike of Owl in JoD was unwarranted; yes, he was made the face of the slightly clumsy tutorial mechanism but it’s hard for me to not care a little that Nights, who is privately lonely in ways they seem disinclined to admit to anyone, clearly has some mutual fondness for this fussy bird dad.

But I definitely feel like the games have their problems- and I’ll focus here mostly on JoD because I feel like NiD itself was a pretty minimalist piece flying more on emotion than deep lore and it was successful in that regard.

I feel like JoD in particular struggled to decide if this was a story about Nights and Reala or a story about Will and Helen, and while they could’ve made room for both, it would’ve required more integration than they pulled off, and it ultimately weakens both narratives.

Nights never really meaningfully reaches a conclusion with Reala. They get angry enough to hurt him, feel bad about it, Reala goes on to take their new friends hostage, and Nights gets angry again and, seemingly, finishes Reala off, either personally, or indirectly because their attempt to kill Wizeman would affect Reala too. Even the nature of their sacrifice is hampered here because they don’t really sell us on what it is about Will and Helen that makes things so different. I take issue with the short-lived archie Nights’ comic’s invention about the “two perfect dreamers born once a century” but it at least explains all the hullabaloo about these specific people. I don’t mean that to be callous- but there has to be a reason Nights makes their stand here and now, even if it’s for internal reasons rather than Will and Helen, and we don’t get a sense of why that is.

Will and Helen themselves have the seeds of interesting or compelling problems, but they aren’t really brought home either. The conclusions they make don’t really feel of a piece with the nature of their issues. We don’t really find out what about Helen is ‘fragile’, and you have to read into things to see the contrast between Will’s lonely, ‘abandoned playground’-like second dream and the vibrant potential of his third dream, this fear that if you can’t grow up people will leave you behind in childhood.

JoD takes from its roots in NiD that it is good at evoking emotions. Many of the ‘major beat’ cutscenes land with really impressive intensity and evocative qualities! I can vividly call to mind Nights and Reala’s argument in Delight City or Reala circling Helen menacingly in Memory Forest.

But I feel like the devil’s in the details. Frustratingly often for me, these vibrant splashes of story were followed up by, like... hey kids, it’s time to chase Octopaw around in circles again! This is in-universe and out a completely pointless exercise! Let’s save some Nightopians from Wizeman, never once examining or explaining what Wizeman wants with them!

I try not to gripe too hard on Wizeman’s inscrutability because he as a character at least resonates with it- that he’s only a handful of ominous details in the dark actually kind of works for his character and the jawdropping beauty of the Unconscious Space and Will and Helen’s respective leaps of faith into the sea of darkness is contrasted by a profound sense of unease. Why is this space simultaneously so real and unreal? If Nights lands on a real-world building at the end of the game, sure, they’re alive, but is that a good thing, if they’re inextricably connected to Wizeman and Wizeman seems to be clawing at the veil between dream and waking?

Again, this is not a frustration of I hate these games. It’s a frustration of, I really love these games, but they feel like a vivid concept padded into existence with inconsistent flesh where the most interesting workings of both worlds- the real world emotional problems, and the dream world’s politics and potential fate under Wizeman’s onslaught- struggle because they’re ramming into each other at cross purposes rather than intertwining and facilitating/shoring each other up. There is some unbelievably premium good shit in NiD and JoD both but the experience of those glorious moments is undercut with the disappointment of going straight from that, to, octopaw. Nights do you wanna talk to Owl about how you unhealthily use harassing this octopus as a way to run away from serious emotional talks? No?

All of this has been a big reason why I’m looking forwards to Balan Wonderworld eagerly, because, Balan Wonderworld seems to be doing the spirit of what NiGHTS was as a series, and directly answering some of the problems of JOD. The human-side dynamics are spiced up with the chapters each having their own stars-of-the-day, and we’re digging into more raw emotional territory than stage fright or a nebulous insecurity growing up- just the three released so far are dealing with unexpected catastrophe bringing ruin to months of hard work, an accident leading to medical problems and a sense of betrayal, and the ‘pettiest’ problem, interpersonal rejection, is easily the most heartbreaking because it showcases how little self-confidence that afflicted person had.

Balan’s more mature position as a maestro and a hands-off sort of narrator figure while Leo and Emma take center stage means that I don’t mind as much when the kids get focus- in JoD, while Will and Helen were kids, Nights seemed like a teenager who was disconcertingly willing to throw themselves under the bus for friends they met yesterday and this wasn’t really framed as a bad thing. With Balan, I feel like even if Balan does at some point in the narrative sacrifice himself to advance Leo and Emma, it’d play to very different tropes- the removal of the magic feather or mentor, as a lesson you have to fly on your own.

(and, Balan is an integral part of the Wonderworld itself, and I have reason to suspect Lance would have a vested interest not fully ‘removing’ him even if they at some point separated him from Leo and Emma)

The kids themselves are also shored up in terms of intrigue. I’m really excited for square enix’s involvement, because they’ve produced a few stories that dig at emotions, and taking characters from the stock of, say, Neku and Shiki from World Ends With You, who Leo and Emma have passing resemblance to (a boy who lost a friend and became disillusioned and closed off, a girl who’s ebullient and sociable and more than a little insincere in it, hiding an insecure, lonely core) I think this is very promising.

That doesn’t mean I am abandoning all love for the NiGHTS series or that I think it’s garbage compared to Balan Wonderworld, especially since they have different themes and motifs and one isn’t even out yet, but I think that it’s interesting how, to my eye, the Wonderworld game seems like a sort of continuation or refinement upon JoD- that NiGHTS in some ways seems to be an inspiration bedrock for this new theater adventure.

Ultimately even if Balan Wonderworld is everything I hope for and more, there’s always going to be a place in my heart for NiGHTS, though. (I mean, hell, Nights themselves was an instrumental force in me figuring out my own relationship with gender.)

(and, once the game DOES come out, I feel like I’m certainly not the only one who’s gonna want to write crossover fic.)

TL;DR I love the nightmare jesters from the absolute bottom of my heart but I just wish we had a little more plot to squeeze loose.

#NiGHTS into dreams #Balan Wonderworld #readmore #Anonymous

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hrodvitnon · 4 years ago

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Hmmm, ok, so in the aftermath of that, I think FW!Goji will adapt very well to the new world he is in, and will become annoyed at how many of the 'kaiju' (Titans) hate/fear him-while also having a very hostile relationship with his dead counterpart's family, them now staying in the Hollow Earth.

But, to add to the bitterness and rage: let's say one day Shin wants to head to the surface, but Mothra, Monster X, & even Kong forbid him from doing so out of fear that FW!Goji will see him as another threat to his kingdom-and kill him. This somehow doesn't deter him, and one night-he sneaks out of the Hollow Earth and enjoys some time getting fresh air....but just as he starts to head back to his new home-he unfortunately bumps into FW!Goji.

FW!Goji: Hey, watch where you're-!

*He sees and recognizes Shin*

FW!Goji:.....wait, didn't I kill you?!

Shin:...N-no, I'm not the Shin you killed, I'm a different one!

FW!Goji:.....*Sniff* Well, you do smell different from the one I killed....

Shin:...Y-yeah! So if you can just move aside and let me leave-

*Unfortunately for Shin, the Shinlets whom his counterpart released from his tail choose this exact moment come out of hiding, see Abraxas!Shin as their Shin-and immediately start to attack FW!Goji*

FW!Goji: ARG! What the hell?!

Shin: W-wha-

*FW!Goji spots the Shinlets, then back to Shin, makes the connection-and becomes enraged.

FW!Goji: GRRRR...You set me up, didn't you?! You tricked me into a false sense of security to kill me and take my throne right?!! WELL I WON'T LET YOU!!!! COME HERE!!!

Shin: NO, WAIT YOU GOT IT ALL WRONG! I DIDN'T-!!!

FW!Goji: DIE!!!!!!

*FW!Goji attacks Shin*

The two have a vicious and brutal fight, with the Shinlets doing everything they can to assist Shin, but most of them die to FW!Goji's Atomic Breath-Shin desperately fights for his life, evolving quickly just to keep up with FW!Goji-he uses his tail, tries to run away only for Final Wars Goji to drag him back, and he even uses his own Atomic Breath to try and compete with Final Wars Goji, but all that proves useless in the face of a Gojiran who faced far worse than that. A few of the Shinlets evolve and try to help their master-only to be torn asunder by FW!Goji with extreme prejudice; Shin, in an act of panic, sends out a distress signal via psychic link to Mothra-who receives it and immediately realized what was going on at the surface and wakes everyone up & Kong to try and help Shin.

Meanwhile, Shin spams his Atomic Breath on both his mouth & tail to intercept FW!Goji's beam, and the two enter a powerful beam-lock-with both parties seemingly being equal. But FW!Goji proves to be full of surprises as he concentrates his beam to become Spiral-Ray-like (similar to the dead Heisei!Goji's ability), and it slowly starts to overpower Shin's beams-not wanting to die though, Shin manages to make the beams equal again, but it rapidly drains his radiation reserves and risks running out. FW!Goji, getting annoyed now, decides to end the fight by automatically powering up his beam to be his Red G Spark Heat Ray again, and it rapidly overwhelms Shin's beams. It gets closer,closer, and closer to his head...

Meanwhile, everyone was just nearing where they are hearing the battle take place when they hear a large *BOOM* and a flash of light in the distance. They head over to see what it was, but once they do-they wished they never did.....

After the Burning G Spark Ray overpowered Shin's beams-all that power was forced into poor Shin's head-causing him to briefly scream before his head exploded into chunks of flesh, his now headless corpse stumbling a bit before falling over....Dead.

FW!Goji, wanting to make sure his enemy was really dead, spammed his beam over, over, and over again at the corpse-burning and practically cremated Shin; all of that happening when everyone else just arrived too late.

Everyone is immediately mortified by what Final Wars Goji just did, Mothra becomes even more broken inside after realizing one of her adoptive children was now dead, Junior simply weeps over his dead brother's body, Kong becomes disturbed and has his guard up while glaring angrily at FW!Goji for his actions, Monster X.....oh boy...do they not take Shin's death very well.....it gets to the point everyone has to physically hold them back from attacking Final Wars Goji in a furious rage...

Monster X: YOU BASTARD!!! YOU FUCKING KILLED HIM!!! I'LL KILL YOU!!!!!!

Final Wars Goji, to his credit, does feel some sense of remorse for killing Shin, but he stands by his actions and gives his reason why he did it.

"Because he attacked me first with those damn mini versions of himself..."

"THAT'S NO DAMN EXCUSE!!!!"

"Well he did, and he had to pay the price.....for what it's worth-I'm sorry for that....but you just have to live with it now...."

He leaves, and everyone reels from the death of not one, but two members of the family-and this serves to fuel the family's hatred towards FW!Goji, while Monster X is especially starting to reach their breaking point in how long they can tolerate him...

Before you can critique me on this, just think of it as a non-canon & speculative sequel to my immediate previous post + it being an angsty scenario-and what do you think?

HOW DARE YOU THROW SHIN TO THE MURDER BIN YOU MONSTER THAT IS UNFORGIVABLE I DON'T WANT TO BE ON THIS RIDE

I'm thinking FW!Goji has Fucked Up Now and is damn near ASKING for a coup d'état, and if his version of Minya got sucked into the AbraxasVerse with him then Minya's going to be very, very disappointed with how his father's running things. But I doubt he would be, since Minya would make damn sure no murder misunderstands happen on his watch. Oh, now there's a thought - maybe FW!Goji gets it into his head that "Well shit, things are going downhill fast and my approval rating here is slightly lower than a hole in the head... shit, that was too soon. Getting mad about everyone being mad at me isn't working. What would Minya do? He's good at this kind of thing."

Maybe he decides, "Okay, things are bad... but I need to put my foot down. I mean, what if a serious threat shows up and it's too much for even me to handle on my own? Surely this world's Mothra will find it in her heart to forgive me." So he goes sniffing for an entrance to the Hollow Earth to try brokering a truce and eventually finds one, but he doesn't get very far. Fortunately, Mothra's there to greet him at one of the entrances! Unfortunately, she looks like her literal soul has left her body, and there's what looks like a literal demon (Monster X) waiting for him in the darkness.

Mothra: You're not welcome here.

FW!Goji: Now hold on, I'm only trying to--

Mothra: Do what? Take over the Hollow Earth now? Forget it. None there will accept you. Our children are not safe with you. If you must satisfy your need for violence, then kill me. At least then I can be with my King again, and I won't live to see more of my sons senselessly killed.

FW!Goji: *slowly realizing just who exactly Shin was because even with all the reactions he saw he didn't realize he killed someone's CHILD* ...oh.

#wagrilous 23 #the one where fw!goji breathes everyone dies

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hermannsthumb · 6 years ago

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Would you be able to do #45 about taking you home for the holidays but now family thinks we're dating?

45. your family ditches you for the holiday so i take you home with me, except my family thinks we’re dating now, and i don’t know how to tell them that we’re not

from winter writing prompts here

YES I WOULD B HAPPY TO

-------------------------------------

“I can’t promise it’ll be very fun,” Hermann says. “You’ve met my family.”

“Like, barely,” Newt says. He’s met Hermann’s dickish older brother, and Hermann’s terrifying dad, both at the same PPDC banquet ages ago, back before they lost funding, and he doesn’t think he made a very good impression on either. (The shouting he did probably didn’t help his favor much. Nor the threatening.) The rest of them--the other two siblings, and a mom who must have at least a little bit of a cold streak in her to reproduce with Dr. Gottlieb senior four fucking times--are nothing but dark-haired and pointy-cheeked enigmas to him.

“Enough to know their sort,” Hermann says, a touch wryly. “It’ll be quite professional. Dinner. Cocktails. You’ll need to wear an, er, nicer tie. Perhaps a suit. Father will likely ask us about our work.”

“Sounds riveting,” Newt says.

Hermann sniffs. “You don’t have to come, you know. No one is forcing your hand.”

Which is true. What’s also true, though, is that when Newt phoned up his dad to excitedly inform him he’d be able to come home for the holidays for the first time in over five years, he was met with a short pause, and then an annoyingly knowing “But wouldn’t you rather spend it with your Hermann? Alone?”

“He’s not my anything,” Newt protested. “He’s just my--lab partner. And roommate.”

It fell on deaf ears, though: somehow Newt’s dad got it into his head that Newt had a thing for Hermann (which is totally ridiculous), and that Hermann had a thing for him too, and a holiday, alone, together, was all they needed to work out their feelings, and he was sure he’d have a brand new genius son-in-law and even grandkids in no time. This was when Newt choked on air and almost dropped the phone.

“Grandkids?”

“I just want to see my son happy,” his dad finished.

So, no Geiszler-style Chrismukkah for Newt this year. Not even something lowkey with Hermann, like they used to do back in the Shatterdome. Newt’s dad’s plan backfired spectacularly: when Newt informed Hermann he was fresh out of things to do this year, Hermann immediately invited him to Gottlieb-style mostly-secular Hanukkah back in Germany with him, and the guy looked so relieved to not have to face it alone that Newt couldn't help but say yes.

He’s starting to regret it now. “I don’t think I have any nice ties,” he admits. “Or, uh, any suits, either.”

Hermann hmphs. “I suppose we’ll have to make a stop at the shops, then, before we head to the airport. Do finish packing. I don’t want to be late.”

“Sounds great,” Newt sighs.

The plane ride over is long and boring, broken only by a short layover in London; Hermann is zonked out on Ambien for most of it (“You gave me a raging headache last time we flew together,” he explained, “I need some quiet.”), so Newt has no choice but to poke through the uninteresting movie selection until he finally settles on some old rom-com. Then his earbuds are busted on one side, so he has to buzz a flight attendant for another pair, and by the time they manage to get them back to him the movie has automatically shut itself off and Newt has to restart. Fucking annoying. Whatever.

Hermann’s youngest brother (Bastien, he thinks) meets them at the airport with his car. He’s smooth-faced and good-looking, with--as Newt expected--those same high cheekbones, that same dark hair. His, though, is curly in the way Newt’s only ever seen the ends of Hermann’s get when it’s damp. “Dr. Geiszler,” he says, giving Newt a firm handshake, then, in Hermann’s funny dialect of German, “It’s good to meet you. We’ve heard much about you.”

Good things, Newt hopes. But probably not. Whatever horror stories Hermann relayed over the years--messy laboratories, chunks of rotting aliens everywhere, a tendency to play electric guitar at four in the morning--would only have fed the fire that Newt stoked to life when he tried to throw a mimosa in Lars Gottlieb’s face all those years ago. This was a bad idea. “Uh,” Newt says. “Howdy.”

Hermann receives a small clap on the shoulder. He’s shorter than Bastien, Newt notices. How...cute. “Hermann,” Bastien says.

“Hello,” Hermann says.

They drive over in silence, Hermann and his brother in the front, Newt crammed in with the luggage in the back. It’s very scenic. Like some old-timey sort of painting. Snow and rolling hills everywhere. “What’s your house like, Hermann?” he says, as they pass what looks like a old barn.

“Old,” Hermann says, disinterestedly. He’s playing some sort of puzzle game on his phone. “Large. Bloody drafty, too--I’ll need my heating pad, or I’ll wake up stiff every morning.”

Newt hides his snicker behind his hand.

“My leg,” Hermann says, and turns in his seat just to roll his eyes at Newt.

“Mother made sure to put extra blankets on your bed,” Bastien says, conversation apparently flying right over his head.

“Oh,” Hermann says. He blinks. “That’s...good of her. Will Newton be in the guest room, then?”

Bastien gives him a strange look. “The guest room?” he says. Then, with a sort of bewilderingly knowing tone of voice, “We’re not children anymore, Hermann.”

“...Right?” Hermann says.

They have a small moment to themselves as Bastien--kindly--carries their luggage inside, and Newt tucks Hermann’s arm under his to help him navigate the iced-over old walking path. Newt means to ask about whether or not Bastien is always that weird, or if Newt’s German is rusty and things were just getting lost in translation, but Hermann surprises him by squeezing his hand in that way that means he’s nervous. He’s gotten better at reading Hermann’s tics and body language since the drift. “You look nice,” Hermann murmurs. (Hermann Gottlieb, complimenting him?) “I’m glad you chose the blue suit. It--”

“Suits me?” Newt jokes.

Hermann doesn’t laugh. “I won’t bother telling you to be on your best behavior,” he says, “because, quite frankly, I don’t care, and I know you won’t be anyway.”

“That’s true.”

“Just--please do try to stay by my side,” Hermann says. “You’ll make it remarkably easier for me.” He squeezes Newt’s hand again. Newt gives him a small smile.

“Of course,” he says.

Easier said than done, really. The second they step inside, Hermann is whisked off to the kitchen by Bastien to--evidently--be presented to his mother, and Newt is left alone in a small sitting room with the oldest brother he also shouted at all those years ago and a woman who can only be the sole Gottlieb sister.

They both stare at him. The oldest one narrows his eyes.

“Hey, guys,” Newt says, in his piss-poor German. “Nice to...be here.”

“Dr. Geiszler,” Karla says. She’s holding a glass of something amber. Probably some sort of whiskey. She takes a long sip of it without looking away from Newt once. “You’re shorter than I expected. Though I suppose Hermann’s always liked them short.”

“Uh,” Newt says. He hasn’t been roasted in his mother tongue in some time, not since one time when Hermann was really mad at him and English just wouldn’t suffice. He can’t say he missed it. If that’s what this is, anyway. “Thanks?”

“Geiszler,” Hermann’s older brother--Newt thinks his name is Dietrich--echoes thoughtfully. Recognition flits across his face; he stands from his armchair. “Geiszler. You’re the little prick Hermann betrayed our--”

“Newton is the little prick who helped save the world while our father was busy funneling millions into a pile of bricks,” Hermann says, suddenly materializing at Newt’s side from nowhere with a hand at his shoulder. “He is also he is here as my guest, I might add, so I would appreciate it if you treated him with the respect he deserves.”

Hermann’s brother sits back down.

“He’s still short,” Karla says.

Bastien is enlisted to show them up to Hermann’s childhood bedroom, hidden in the back of a very long hallway, and Hermann settles his suitcase down on the tiny twin bed with a small, mournful sigh. “Cold as ever,” he says. Newt happens to agree. “It’s like the bloody Arctic. I can’t understand it.” He plucks at the stack of blankets resting at the foot. “I suppose these’ll have to do.”

Newt’s suitcase is hefted onto the bed, too. Bastien wouldn’t let Newt carry it himself. (Hermann refused assistance.) “You should be able to fit comfortably. Hermann is nothing but skin and bones--he won’t take up too much space.”

“Uh,” Newt says. “Fit?”

“On the bed,” Bastien says.

Newt and Hermann stare at him. “Ah,” Hermann says. “No.” Then, as if he’s explaining something to a small child, “Newton is sleeping in the guest bedroom.”

“I told you,” Bastien says, “we’re not children. Nobody expects him to.”

Expects him to? “I mean, I kinda expected to,” Newt says.

Bastien touches both of their shoulders and gives them something that might be a smile, if you tilted your head and squinted a little. Guess it runs in the family. “We already know,” he says

Then he leaves.

“Huh,” Newt says. “Hey, Hermann, I’m like, eighty percent sure they think we’re bang--”

“I know,” Hermann snaps. He groans, collapses onto the bed, buries his face in his hands. Newt shoves his own hands in his pockets awkwardly; he’s a little hurt Hermann’s this upset over the concept, to be honest. “But why?”

“Well, what did you tell them about me?” Newt says. There were plenty of rumors flying around about them after the end of the war, plenty of weird Buzzfeed articles ranking Newt’s haircuts and speculating on how platonic their living situation was, so he wouldn’t be surprised if (like Newt’s dad) Hermann’s siblings saw some of those and put two and two together and made five. Because it is platonic. Obviously.

“That you’re a brilliant scientist,” Hermann says. “An--er--friend. Partner. That we live together. That we--with the kaiju’s brain--I know it’s classified, but it seemed important.” He groans again. “Oh, they’ll never believe me.”

Knowing Hermann, he probably did refer to Newt as his partner and not see how that could be misconstrued in anyway. “Then just don’t say anything,” Newt says. “I don’t mind it if you don’t.”

Hermann looks up sharply. “You don’t?”

Newt shrugs, going a little pink. He doesn’t think Hermann will notice. “There are worse things to be than your date. Can we eat dinner now? All I had all day was some pretzels on the flight.”

He holds out his hand to Hermann. Hermann takes it, staring strangely at him. “Alright,” he says.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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excindrela · 6 years ago

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If You Take a Demon to Thanksgiving... (18+)

Supernatural AU

Pairing: demon! Ayno (Noh YoonHo) VAV x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff/ Humor and SMUT

Warnings: Explosions, Destruction, Unprotected sex (wrap it up people), foul language, use of the word “cock”

Word Count: 3277

AN: This is a continuation of Summoned so if you haven’t read that one, I recommend you read that one first!

12 Days of Demon Ayno (Christmas) : Day 1 | Day 2 | Day 3 | Day 4 | Day 5 | Day 6 | Day 7 | Day 8 | Day 9

Happy Thanksgiving!

In retrospect, taking the boyfriend you had only been with for a month to Thanksgiving probably wasn’t the best idea you’ve ever had. The fact that said boyfriend was also a demon that had been summoned specifically to fulfill your sexual fantasies, and your family was dysfunctional at best made the idea really really bad.

As distasteful as the idea of actually being human was to him, Ayno made a concerted effort to pretend to be one – to the best of his ability. As a demon, he didn’t need to sleep or eat or shower…or anything…he was just available 24 hrs a day to fulfill your every desire…and the fact that he always knew exactly what you desired- be it a cupcake or his cock- the moment you desired it, sometimes made things a bit complicated. Especially when it involved anyone but the two of you.

You had spent the week leading up to Thanksgiving explaining the holiday to Ayno, and going over a rather detailed chart you drew up of the part of your family you’d be visiting. He memorized the chart and asked questions about your step-father with his need to baby the dog and unhealthy addiction to reality TV, your mother’s obsession with decorating the house via Pinterest and her perpetually drunk brother, and your worthless step-brother (in the process learning what a “misdemeanor” and a “felony” were)…but really he just wanted to watch “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving” over and over.

You arrived promptly at 11 for a 2pm “dinner” with the promise to Ayno that you’d leave as soon as the dishes were done.

You barged through the door of your childhood home loudly calling “Hi Mom!” as you headed straight for the kitchen. “Hi honey! Oh! …and who’s this?” she asked glancing speculatively at the handsome stranger lurking over your shoulder. “Mom, this is Ayno. My…boyfriend. Ayno, this is my Mom.” “Hi” he greeted. Sticking to the plan of keeping things simple and saying as little as possible. “Hello Ayno. Welcome.” Your mom replied before turning to you and saying pointedly “I wasn’t aware you were dating anyone…” You shrugged. “Surprise? I have a…boyfriend.” You said unapologetically. “I’m going to show Ayno around.” You said as you dragged him away from your mother before she could start asking questions.

In the den, you found your step-dad, milk-toast aunt and alcoholic uncle watching the football pregame while drinking beer and eating chips & dip. They barely acknowledged your presence, and if they were surprised to see you with a six foot Asian man following you around, they didn’t show it.

You poked your head into the dining room and checked out the table, already resplendent with a lace table cloth, battery powered pillar candles, and a giant turkey shaped tureen in the center – despite the fact that no soup was set to be served.

The living room, you explained as you crossed through it, was for looks only. Touching- or worse, sitting on- your mother’s special furniture or disturbing her artistically arranged designer throw pillows was not tolerated.

Large sliding glass doors in the living room led to the patio and backyard. The patio had been swept and there was a stack of plastic chairs and tables to be set up. Your step father’s adored mutt, Patches, came running right up to Ayno, putting his paws up on his leg, demanding ear scratches which the soft demon happily supplied. “What is that?” Ayno asked, pointing to a metal cylinder sitting in the middle of the yard. You walked over and examined it. “I think it’s a deep fryer.” You said suspiciously. “I think my step dad and uncle are going to try to deep fry the turkey.” You shook your head- this seemed like a bad idea. “At least my mom is making a ham, so something will be edible.”

“What is that?” Ayno asked again, this time pointing to the large oak tree in the corner of the yard. You laughed, “That is my treehouse! It was my favorite escape as a kid. C’mon, I’ll show you.” A moment later you had dragged Ayno across the yard and were climbing up the rickety ladder with him. You shoved hard, and the hatch opened to reveal the small space that had seemed so big in childhood. It was covered in dust, and the walls still had faded posters from your pre-teen years. “I spent hours up here. It was my happy place. I always envisioned it as being an escape and a private place during my teen years…but…that’s not how things worked out.” Sensing your wistfulness, Ayno bent his head and kissed you sweetly.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a car door signaling the arrival of your step-brother and voices in the yard. “Oh good! Ayno! C’mere & give us a hand with this.” Your step dad called as you descended the ladder. Ayno squeezed your hand reassuringly and went to help them.

The rest of the day proceeded like most awkward family events. Inappropriate and embarrassing stories were told, too many snacks and too much alcohol was consumed. Ayno stuck by you working in the kitchen, happy to do whatever was asked of him, and content to let you deflect conversation and answer questions about him. Eventually he felt comfortable enough to go sit on the patio with everyone and listen to your family’s chatter. Everyone seemed to think he was nice, if not a little odd.

You had serious doubts about the sanctity of the meal when your drunk uncle announced it was time to do the turkey, and came into the kitchen where you were assembling more snacks and yanked the still frozen fowl from the freezer and headed for the backyard.

In the next 3 minutes of your life events occurred simultaneously in what felt like slow motion.

“Will ya all jist shut the hell up? I know what I’m doin’!” your uncle said as he lowered the ice block of bird toward the overfull deep fryer. He released the clip and the turkey dropped like a bomb splashing into the vat and sending boiling oil flying into the air and cascading over the edges of the deep fryer straight into the flame below it. As soon as the frozen meat hit the scalding oil, everything exploded into a giant fireball raining hot flaming oil and chunks of turkey all over the dead un-mowed backyard, causing the whole thing to burst into 3 foot high flames.

The sound of the deep fryer being blown apart startled your mother so badly that she dropped the pan with the ham in it that she had just pulled out of the oven. The chunk of pork bounced out and the pan landed upside down in the middle of the kitchen floor, bubbling ham juice running out and turning the white tile brown. Something brushed passed your leg, and you looked down just in time to see Patches run into the kitchen making a beeline for the downed ham. Your mother saw it too, and she tried to run and grab the meat before the dog made off with the only (mostly) surviving entrée, forgetting about the bourbon and brown sugar grease lake that now coated the floor. You watched helplessly as her feet hit the grease and slipped right out from under her and she landed face down in the gooey puddle with a thunk on her right arm.

A blur out of your opposite eye diverted your attention back to the yard where your step-father was beating your slightly- on- fire uncle with a dry crispy chamois from the garage yelling “Roll, Duke, roll!!” He was distracted and missed the moment it became obvious that your step-brother had flunked high school chemistry class, because he turned the hose on to the raging grease fire turning it into what would later be known in your family as The Turkey Inferno.

You stood there, stupidly, as the mayhem raged around you, with a useless crudité platter in one hand and your forgotten cell phone in the other. You heard sirens in the distance, and hoped they were heading your way. And then, another sound: laughter. You looked over to see Ayno, laughing so hard he was crying, huge smile and face lit up, so delighted he was slumped back in the plastic lawn chair clapping his hands and his feet. “It looks just like the Seven Pools of the Damned!” he cried excitedly.

* * *

Two hours later, you were a hot, sweaty, filthy mess. After the fire department had arrived and hosed down the back yard in some kind of foam, and the ambulance had taken your mom and uncle to the hospital; you got to work cleaning up the kitchen, which was not only a disaster from the whirlwind of cooking, but now included the ham lake and burned sweet potatoes that had been forgotten in the oven. Ayno had helpfully begun un-setting the table and cleaning up the back patio.

Patches, having feasted on a whole ham and who knew what else, began throwing up and having explosive diarrhea all over the house. It was while cleaning up the 5th pile of puke that you discovered your good for nothing step-brother was sitting in the den watching football leaving you to do all the work. You handed him the paper towels and cleaning solution and told him to get off his lazy ass and clean up after the dog…he elected to go to the hospital to “check in on everyone”.

That was it. You were done. Everyone but you and Ayno had gone to the hospital, you hadn’t seen him for a while, and you weren’t sure where he was, and at the moment you didn’t actually care. You had a splitting headache and you were not doing this by yourself. You walked into the guest room and fell face down onto the bed.

You had no idea how long you had slept, but it was dark when you felt Ayno gently shake you awake. “No? Wha-“was all you got out before Ayno gave a soft “Shhhh” and placed his finger to your lips. He looped your arms around his neck and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up, yanking the quilt off the bed and wrapping it around you as he carried you through the dark house and across the still smoking backyard. He walked straight to the treehouse, and climbed the rickety ladder with you still wrapped around him like a baby koala.

Now you knew where he’d gotten to. He had cleaned up the tree house, and covered the entire floor in pillows that he’d swiped from the house. He’d even grabbed the battery powered candles from the dinner table, so the whole thing was bathed in soft fake candlelight. He set you down in the pile of pillows and closed the hatch.

Without a word he pulled you onto his lap and began kissing you. Softly at first, his hands on the sides of your face, but becoming harder and more needy by the second as his fingers threaded through your hair and his tongue plundered your mouth. He broke away long enough to pull your sweater off over your head, before returning his lips to your now exposed neck. His mouth worked its way from your jawline to your shoulder in a long trail of wet kisses punctuated by gentle sucking and bites that were just harsh enough you knew they would leave marks. You were so distracted by his mouth that you almost missed his hands unfastening your bra and tossing it to the side. The cold air coming in contact with your fully exposed breasts caused them to immediately flush and harden. You reached down and grabbed Ayno’s sweater and turtleneck and yanked them both off of him at the same time, desperate to press your cold skin against his unnatural warmth. He obliged you, taking the opportunity to begin marking up your shoulder as he hiked your skirt up over your thighs letting it pool around your waist. His hand slipped down to begin rubbing your throbbing clit through your silky underwear. You moaned softly and pressed your mound harder against his hand. Ayno lifted your hips slightly and re-settled you on his right thigh. “Ride it”, he whispered. You nodded and began rolling your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans, trying desperately to satisfy the ache he had created in your core. You gasped as he took one of your nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud, and then hollowing out his cheeks and sucking. You quickened your pace and trembled slightly at the friction. Breathy moans spilled from your lips as you felt your climax building and your thighs starting to shake. “Ayno…” you moaned, without slowing your pace, causing him to release your nipple with a lewd pop. “Ready to cum baby?” he asked rubbing your sides soothingly. You nodded and whined as your walls began clenching around nothing, feeling your wetness release and soak through Ayno’s pants to his skin. You dropped your head to his shoulder “Not enough, not enough…” you whined into his ear, “Fill me…please…” you begged. Ayno laid back into the pile of pillows unbuckling his belt so you could drag his pants to his ankles. You wasted no time pulling his boxer briefs down behind them, watching as his erect cock sprung free. You straddled his hips and he gently stroked himself a few times before holding it vertically so you could slide onto him. You moaned as you felt the tip of his length at your entrance, already so wet that you pushed him easily between your folds, until he was fully buried in you. Soft high pitched noises came from your mouth as you circled your hips feeling his slight movements deep within you as his fingers rubbed circles on your clit in time with your movements. Knowing you needed more, he lifted your hips up, and began jackhammering in and out of your sopping pussy from below. Every stroke the head of his cock pounded into your cervix, causing you to throw your head back and cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain. “Oh fuck yes! Don’t stop…” you gritted out through clenched teeth as your vision got hazy and your second orgasm hit you and you could swear the whole room was moving. Ayno released his grip on you and let you slide back down his shaft while he rolled his hips to let you come down from the high, but you still felt like you couldn’t get enough. You put your hands on the top of his pecs, fingers digging into his shoulders for leverage as you began lifting your hips up and slamming back into his harshly. The whole treehouse creaked and moaned with every thrust. “Not enough baby?” he asked breathlessly. “Noooo…” you moaned, “I just…I need…you feel so good…” you whined.

You thrust down hard and suddenly there was a loud crack. Not your imagination this time, the whole floor jolted down and tilted to the left. You froze. “Ayno…I think we have a problem…” He opened his mouth to reply when there was a loud snap and the entire floor detached with you and Ayno riding it like an elevator to hell, and went crashing to the ground below, pillows flying everywhere. Unable to be harmed by something as trivial as a six foot drop, Ayno wrapped himself protectively around you, holding your head to his chest and covering you with his arms.

Suddenly the still of the evening was split by the sounds of voices you knew all too well. “Oh my God!!” “What the shit was that?!” “Oh hell! The patio cover didn’t collapse did it?!” as the backyard floodlights came on and your family, having returned from the hospital unnoticed by you; came running across the yard to find you and Ayno, mostly naked, obviously in the middle of copulation, laying in the middle of the destroyed treehouse. You stared at them. They stared at you. Then it seemed your mother gathered her wits and took in the situation, a look of horror crossing her face as she screamed “OH MY GOD!! ARE THOSE MY CHENILLE THROW PILLOWS??? THOSE ARE POTTERY BARN!!” Ayno burst out laughing.

* * *

An hour after you got home you were feeling much better having showered off the horrific events of the day and slipped into your PJs. You found Ayno lounging on the couch in flannel pants and an oversize sweatshirt…hair having suddenly turned platinum blonde but his eyes still a deep chocolate brown according to your whims. He sat up just enough to grab you and pull you down to lay on top of him, wrapping his arms around you and giving you a quick kiss in the process.

“I have enjoyed this ‘Thanksgiving’. We should definitely participate in this more often. When is the next one?” Ayno asked happily.

“Sorry sweetheart. Thanksgiving is a once a year thing. There won’t be another one until November of next year.” you informed him.

“Very well. Then I will look forward to it.” he said with a smile.

“Ayno? You do understand that I mean 365 days from now?” you clarified.

He nodded. “I understand your measurements of time.” he said matter-of-factly.

You laid there stunned for a moment. Ayno was talking about a year from now…still being here a year from now. This was the first mention of anything long term, of some kind of permanence to the situation.

Ever attuned to you, Ayno looked you straight in the eyes and asked softly “Am I really your boyfriend?”

“Do you know what a boyfriend is?” you countered.

“Yes! ‘A male that is close to your heart. He is the one you can't stand to go a day without seeing. He provides everything you need, including sex, love, protection, comfort and an escape from the world. A lover who admires you for who you are. Knowing him makes you a better person. And being with him makes you smile.��”

Well. That was a startlingly accurate description. “Ayno, where did you hear that?”

“Urban Dictionary.”

“…and did Urban Dictionary tell you what a girlfriend is?”

“Uh-huh. ‘A female who you love, admire, respect, and desire to be with; a girl who makes you laugh, smile and who brings out the best in you, the one person that you should value over every other thing. You must protect her for she is the most special thing that could ever happen to you. She’s someone that you want to hug and kiss all the time and make love to, and is also able to bleed for a week without dying.’” He paused. “I find this description to be accurate of my feelings toward you...but I do not know if I meet the boyfriend requirements.”

You smiled down at him. “You more than meet them. Do you want to really want to be my boyfriend Ayno?”

He grinned. “Yes! In over 800 years I have never had a ‘girlfriend’. I promise I will take good care of you.”

“You already do.” You said as you snuggled into him and laid your head on his chest.

“So since I must wait for Thanksgiving again, is there another holiday that…how did your mother put it? We can ‘ruin forever’?” he asked hopefully.

“There’s a whole calendar full babe”, you laughed ruefully, “A whole calendar full.”

#ayno #vav ayno #vav smut #ayno smut #vav #noh yoonho #noh yoonho smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction #demon #thanksgiving #ayno fluff

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currantlee · 5 years ago

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German Postillon articles about the US Election translated

@theeeveetamer sent me this post in which someone translated German Postillon headlines about the US Election. Der Postillon is a German satire website disguised as a newspaper, kind of the German equivalent to The Onion.

So, I translated one of the articles for her and it was really, really fun. So I thought I might do more and share it on my blog so hopefully more people can have a laugh!

But first of all...

Gotta keep the American Spirit on this blog everyone!

Before I continue though: Please keep in mind that the Postillon is a satire website! None of the news in this post are actually true, it’s just meant to have a good laugh. I am repeating this again: none of these are actually real! I also want to make clear that none of those were written by me, I merely translated them! Credit to all the original texts and pictures goes to the Postillon. Except for the American flag. Credit to flickr for that one.

Anyways, let’s go and hopefully have some laughs.

Experts are certain that Donald Trump is going to win the Election because 2020 has been a shitty year so far anyways

Washington D.C. – Joe Biden hopes to put an end to Trump’s presidency after four years: he is clearly ahead in the polls on this Election Day. Despite that, most experts are sure that Trump will win – because so far, 2020 has been a shitty year anyways!

“If you look at the average of the national polls, Joe Biden is currently more than 8% ahead of Trump,” politic scientist Marianne Waters from the renowned Princeton University explains. “This means that his lead is way greater than Hillary Clinton’s in 2016. Under normal circumstances, you’d say that he’s already won the Election.”

She pauses for a second. “But now, please think about what a fucked up mess of a year 2020 has been so far! And then, think again about whether or not the American people are that fucked up in their brains to elect this human catastrophic failure for four more years! We’re talking about a year in which a global pandemic is going rampant across the planet anyways, we’re seeing islamistic and nazi terror attacks at the daily and entire havens are exploding ‘completely by accident’! Is there anybody who seriously believes in a sensible result of this election?!”

At least, scientists aren’t fully ruling out the possibility of Biden winning the Election. However, because this is 2020, the chance of an asteroid hitting the earth five minutes after this has happened is nothing but small.

– Der Postillon, 3rd of November 2020 (Original title: Experten sicher, dass Trump gewinnen wird, weil 2020 eh schon ein Scheißjahr ist). Translated by Seaberry Siren

“Oh Shit!” – Putin completely forgot to manipulate the US Election

Moskow – How can one be so scatterbrained! Wladimir Putin just realized to his very own horror that he completely forgot to manipulate the US Election. Now, his candidate Donald Trump is in trouble.

“Bljad! {T/N: Russian for “crap”} I knew I forgot something really important!”, Putin says. “But due to all the inner politics, the corona virus and all the other countries our hackers need to manipulate elections in, I totally forgot about the United States! This is just great!”

He turns to his assistant. “Dima! USA! Can we turn something around there? ... No? ... Really?! And if we deliver arms to the... How are those guys called again... Proud Boys? WHAT?! They already have enough of those?!? Oh well.”

However, in the end, Putin puts up with the situation after all: “Ah, we’ll see. Maybe everything will turn out fine one way or another.” He turns to his assistant again: “Dima, make an appointment with Donald Trump jr. as soon as possible! I heard he is is just as dumb as his father and has political ambitions as well. We’ll survive Biden until 2024.”

– Der Postillon, 4th of November 2020 (Original title: “Ach Kacke!” – Putin hat völlig vergessen, US-Wahlen zu manipulieren). Translated by Seaberry Siren with help from Theeeveetamer

Employees of the Oval Office try to stop Trump from tweeting “CIVIL WAR!!!! Kill all Democrats!”

Washington D.C. – While votes are still being counted all over the USA, dramatic scenes start to unfold in the White House. Currently multiple employees are trying to prevent President Donald Trump from grabbing his smartphone in order to tweet the words “CIVIL WAR!!!! Kill all Democrats!”.

“No Mr. President!”, an assistant shouts as she holds Trump’s arm. “Don’t do this! I have a family! I don’t want a civil war! Jack, restrain him, damnit! Anna, don’t stand there and stare so stupidly, help us! Ian, put his smartphone as far away as you can!”

In the meantime, countless citizens of the USA are wondering why Trump didn’t tweet anything for more than seven hours.

“Leave me alone!”, Trump cries as he desperately tries to reach his smartphone. “They want to steal my election by letting every vote count! Even those of the Democrats! I WANT TO SEE BLOOD!!!”

Meanwhile, outside of the White House, more and more people are speculating that Trump could accept a possible loss due to his silence on Twitter.

– Der Postillon, 4th of November 2020 (Original title: Mitarbeiter versuchen Trump davon abzuhalten, "CIVIL WAR!!!! Kill all Democrats!" zu twittern). Translated by Seaberry Siren

Not that as well! Half-Blind 100-year-old man who counts all the votes by his own dies of old age

Harrisburg – Oh no! Everything is going to take even longer now! James Reed, the 100-year-old man tasked with counting all the votes of the US Election surprisingly just died.

“Maybe it wasn’t such a great idea to task one man of his age with the counting of millions of votes,” the chief of the Electoral Office stated. “Unfortunately, he was the only one with a license for this important job.”

After the closing of the polling stations, Reed, who was responsible for counting the votes since the 1970s, traveled from state to state in order to count all the votes.

“He took his job very seriously. He’d often take 20 minutes in order to count a single vote,” an election assistant recalls as tears of gried run over her cheeks. “But just after he counted 92% of the votes at Michigan, he suddenly fell from his chair.”

The doctor who was called immediately could only confirm the death of the 100-year-old man.

The worst part is that Reed didn’t get to name a successor before his passing. This is why the authorities are desperately searching for a new person able to lift sheets of paper, read printed letters, ánd count one by one at the same time. Due to the American education system, this is going to be a challenge {T/N: Germans throwing a bit of shade here when their own education system isn’t something to be proud on either}.

– Der Postillon, 4th of November 2020 (Original title: Auch das noch! Halbblinder 100-Jähriger, der allein alle US-Stimmen auszählt, an Altersschwäche gestorben). Translated by Seaberry Siren

US Election: Trump lies way out in front

Washington D.C. – A good chunk of the votes of the US Election have been counted by now and there seems to be a trend: Donald Trump clearly lies way out in front! As expected, the President of the United States is taking the lead in the traditionally Republican states. But even in the Swing States, he already sees himself as the winner, even if it’s only with very little sanity.

“Trump clearly lies way out in front,” the politics expert Dean Jefferson affirms. “As in: he stands in front of an audience and lies their heads off!”

Many didn’t expect that Trump could lie way out in front this comfortably at this point of the cote count. Other less optimistic individuals had predicted a neck-and-airhead race {T/N: in German that’s Kopf-an-Hohlkopf-Rennen, literally head-on-airhead race} from the beginning.

– Der Postillon, 5th of November 2020 (Original title: US-Wahl: Trump lügt vorne). Translated by Seaberry Siren

Damned mess of a US Election STILL isn’t over!

Washington D.C. – FOR HEAVEN’S SAKE!!! At some point, enough is enough, isn’t it? The damned mess of a US Election STILL isn’t over after three days of counting the votes because the people in some Federal States apparently can’t manage to count the ballots!

Seriously: can they even count at all? Didn’t they know that the voters like to turn their ballots in with a vote on them and that you have to count these votes in order to determine a winner?!?

An average election of the Federal Congress {T/N: they mean the German Federal Congress, also known as the Bundestag} is finished, predicted and decided one second after closing the polling stations {T/N: Yes, German elections are that boring}. An official end result is provided in the next morning at the latest! How in the world can the Americans be trundle as fuck like this?!?

Suggestion: we ignore the entire shitshow over there for the next few weeks until those idiots have punched their faces in and once the victor is clear, there is one short headline: “Winner of the US Election: [insert winner’s name here]”. Then this whole crap would... WHAT?? Biden takes the lead at Georgia by 900 votes? Wowowowow! Just a moment please, I’ll have a look at the livetracker. Did CNN already comment on this? Nate Silver already tweeted as well... This has to be it for Biden! Now it can’t take much longer!

OH MY GOD, HOW EXITING!!!

– Der Postillon, 6th of November 2020 (Original title: Verdammte Drecks-US-Wahl immer noch nicht zu Ende!). Translated by Seaberry Siren

“If I can’t have it, then nobody will!” – Trump sets the White House on fire

Washington D.C. – A victory of Joe Biden in the US election is becoming more and more likely. But the answer to the question whether the Democrat is really going to move into the White House could be decided by a completely different factor than the votes – because apparently, Donald Trump is trying to burn the White House down now.

“If I can't have it, then nobody will!”, the US President says as he spreads gasoline at strategic points while he starts laughing manically: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Shortly after, the Oval Office is up in flames. “Let’s see how Sleepy Joe will rule from a burned-down ruin!”, Trump exclaims with a shrill voice as he adds more fuel to the fire. “AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Burn, my little fire, burn!”

Directly before publishing this article, Trump realized that this wasn’t the best idea as he cut off his own escape route with the last bits of the fuel. “Oh! So this wasn’t very clever... IVANKAAAAAAA!! The Democrats set me on fire! Rescue the best president of all time!!!”

– Der Postillon, 6th of November 2020 (Original title: “Wenn ich es nicht haben kann, soll es keiner haben! – Trump setzt Weißes Haus in Brand). Translated by Seaberry Siren

"Enough!” – The Queen reclaims the United States for the British Empire

London – She’s got enough of this nonsense! Queen Elizabeth II. announced the return of the United States to the British Empire. A new, freshly assigned gouverneur will arrive in Washington shortly and take over the government business.

“We have been watching this unworthy ham without doing anything for far too long,” the Queen declared in a fiery speech. “It is time to return the colony where it belongs: into the lap of the United Kingdom. The experiment is hereby ended.”

Shortly after, the British Navy occupied important havens at the East Coast. On friday afternoon, Baltimore, Boston, Philadelphia and Miami had already been seized.

Apparently months of the global pandemic, national economic instability and a tiring election campaign did the trick: a wide range of the US population greeted the British soldiers euphorically and vowed to be loyal to the British Crown. “Long live the Queen!”-chants echoed through the streets.

Washington D.C. is still in the hands of the rebels lead by Donald Trump. However, observers believe that the British troops will seize the capital next week. According to the Queen’s orders, Trump will be put into chains and brought to Great Britain by ship in order to spend the rest of his days in the Tower of London by water and bread.

– Der Postillon, 6th of November 2020 (Original title: “Jetzt reicht’s!” – Queen unterstellt USA wieder der Britischen Krone). Translated by Seaberry Siren

#Politics #Satire #Translation #US Election 2020 #USA #Donald Trump #Joe Biden #Wladimir Putin #Queen Elizabeth II.#German #German Humor #Humor #SeaSi translates

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duhragonball · 6 years ago

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Dragon Ball Z 230

Last time, Vegeta blasted big chunks out of the tournament stadium, killing hundreds in the process. Goku agreed to fight him, provided Babidi would teleport them to some place where no one would be in harm’s way.

Which leaves everyone at the stadium to wonder what the hell just happened. The World Tournament Announcer discusses the post-tournament ceremony with the winner, Mr. Satan. Under the circumstances, handing out the prize money doesn’t seem like a good idea, so it’s probably best if everyone just goes home. This scene seems very weird to me. I’m pretty sure it’s filler, but either way, this conversation seems a little too “funny-awkward” when it needs to be “hundreds-of-people-just-died-awkward.”

For example, if you look closely, you can see Android 18 and Marron standing in the background, between Satan and WTA. She’s been there since the last episode, before Vegeta showed up and killed all those people. The gag is that Mr. Satan can’t celebrate his victory too much because he keeps noticing 18 glaring at him, waiting for him to pay her the 20 million zeni he promised to her so she would throw the fight.

I think what’s happening here is that Toei decided to recycle the gag from the last episode, which is a common filler tactic on this show. Think of all the times we’ve seen Goku running down Snake Way, or training on his way to Namek, or suffering from the heart virus. But it really doesn’t work here because the atmosphere in the stadium has drastically shifted, or at least it should have. I know it’s a popular joke that death has no meaning in Dragon Ball because everyone can just be wished back to life, but most of the people here don’t know that. 18 does, but you’d think she’d be more disturbed by what Vegeta just did. She’s a cool customer, sure, but you’d think she’d want to get her daughter to safety at the very least.

At least Bulma seems to be on track with the story. “Vegeta... What’s Wrong With You?” could be the title of her autobiography though.

The answer, of course, is that he’s allowed himself to be mind-controlled by a space wizard so that he can finally fight Goku. No more teases, no more buildup, no more false starts. This fight is happening, and it’s going to keep happening for a few more episodes.

So this fight. What do I say about it? When I was a kid, I grew up with the lore established after Return of the Jedi came out. One way or another, I heard that the reason Darth Vader wears his life-supporting armor is because he once challenged Obi-Wan Kenobi to a duel, and suffered severe injuries from it. I don’t remember where I heard this, but the story was that it was right after he turned evil, and they fought over a live volcano, and he fell in some lava.

Of course, for younger readers, it’s all a matter of record. You can just watch “Revenge of the Sith” and see exactly what happened. But between 1983 and 2005, we only had this one-sentence legend. I might have come up with the volcano part myself, since I heard “molten lava” and figured there had to be a volcano involved. For my generation, “Revenge of the Sith” was the payoff to that decades-long speculation.

The problem with moments like that is that you have to compete with fans’ imagination. I remember after the movie came out, and I was at a comic book store and heard some guy complain that there should have been more lost-limbs in that battle. Anakin lost an arm and both legs at the end, but I guess this guy’s bloodlust wasn’t sated. Maybe he wanted Kenobi to lose limbs too? Except he won, so I guess his dream scenario was for both of them to chop each other’s hands off and continue fighting one-handed.

For my part, I was satisfied with what I got, although when you get down to it, it’s never going to hold up quite as well as I pictured it, because I had 22 years to picture it, and I could imagine it from every possible angle, with every possible scenario. And when you imagine something, you can mix your emotions into the visuals. Watching Darth Vader fighting Obi-Wan Kenobi on the screen, well, it looks a lot like all the other lightsaber battles in Star Wars, only it’s longer and more intense. The movie is depending on you to fill in the emotional gaps. The actors can act in between the swordfighting, but it’s up to you to remember those performances when the blades start swinging.

What I’m driving at here is that a lot of Goku-Vegeta II is a dead heat. In particular, you see scenes like this one where neither guy can overpower the other, and they’re stuck holding each other’s hands and blocking knee strikes with their thighs. It reminds me a lot of the gifs of the Anakin/Obi-Wan fight, which just show them swinging their sabers around. Stripped of context, it looks downright silly. DBZ is counting on you to remember this:

This is why they’re fighting. I don’t just mean the original Goku/Vegeta fight as a whole, or even the outcome of that battle. I’m talking about this specific part of the fight, Episode 31 of DBZ, where Goku reluctantly used the Kaio-ken X3 and overpowered Vegeta, however briefly. This was really where Vegeta started taking Goku personally. After this, he tried to destroy the entire Earth just to kill Goku, and Goku used Kaio-ken X4 to overpower him yet again. From that point on, Goku spent the rest of the battle on the defensive, relying on Gohan, Krillin, and Yajirobe to finish what he’d started.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you the rematch is better than the original. Goku-Vegeta I is one of the crown jewels of this whole franchise. I still think I like this one better, though, because of the anticipation I had for it. It fufills a long deferred dream that Goku, Vegeta, and the audience have shared since Episode 36. One day, they’ll fight again, and settle this.

So maybe this battle doesn’t have the same underdog factor going for it, and the psychology and choreography isn’t as intuitive. It’s not as self-contained as the original battle, becaue this one depends so heavily on the viewer being familiar with Goku and Vegeta’s history. But dammit, I am familiar with all of that, and that’s why I like it.

There’s not a lot of stalling or desperate tactics here. Both guys powered up to their maximum at the start. This is just two guys trying to beat the hell out of each other, but they’re so evenly matched that it’s easy to lose sight of how hard they’re hitting, or how much of themselves they’re putting into every blow. Like here, Vegeta just got slammed into a cliffside, and he’s disintegrating the rock instead of just moving slightly away from it. Remember, it’s all about this:

Each of these guys want to pulverize the other this way. Goku wants to do it to prove that he can sustain this level of offense instead of barely holding out for a minute. Vegeta wants to do it because he’s still sore that any Saiyan managed to do this to him and live to tell about it.

There’s also something deeply tragic about this fight, which appeals to me in a way the original can’t tough. Before, they were two Saiyans. The last two, perhaps, but Saiyans nonetheless. Now, they’re Super Saiyans. The legend said there was only one every thousand years, but now, in spite of everything, there’s two. They’ve even managed to surpass the Super Saiyan and become something greater, but instead of saving the universe like they might have done before, they’re just beating the shit out of each other while the world burns. Z stands for the end.

Because every time Goku takes a hit...

The energy lost from the damage he sustains is magically transferred to Majin Buu’s ball. When enough has been aborbed, the seal can be broken, and Majin Buu will be resurrected.

Meanwhile, Dabura and Gohan have moved deeper in to Babidi’s ship to try and stop him while the Goku/Vegeta fight is in progress. This is Stage 4 of his spaceship, and in theory it’s no different from Stages 1-3. Babidi would normally send a warrior to fight the intruders, and any damgage they take would feed Buu. Only Babidi’s fresh out of good fighters, so he just sends ten of his low-tier henchmen to hold the line instead.

For some reason, everyone on board Babidi’s ship looks like these guys, except for Puipui, Yakon, and Dabura. I never paid much attention to it before, but when you think about it, it’s kind of weird how Babidi only “recruits” the best evil warriors he can find, but his crew all look like they came from the same planet. I’m guessing these guys were some sort of pirate band or something, and Babidi forced them all to come work for him and run his ship for him, or maybe this ship used to be theirs before Babidi hijacked it.

Anyway, Gohan takes them all out with a simple ki attack, and they can proceed. Not sure why these guys had Roman numberals on their uniforms. It implied that they were somewhat important, but I guess not.

Anyway, back to this fight. So yeah, like I said, these two are just going all out.

They’re using big flashy moves that might be climactic finishers in past battles, but here it’s just standard issue.

Take this beam struggle, for example. This was the height of the first Goku/Vegeta battle, but it’s just an appetizer here.

Like, they can’t even just have a beam struggle, they have to charge towards each other while they do it. Are they going to punch each other with their free hands while they do this?

Meanwhile, Trunks and Goten take a piss break on their way to the action. Some pervy dinosaur peeks on them while they go.

Okay, so this is my favorite part. Right here. Somehow, Vegeta managed to get the better of Goku, so he hauls him up, and it looks like he’s got Goku at his mercy.

Then he slams him into a rock and fires ki blasts that basically at like big staples, to hold Goku in place by his wrists, ankles and neck.

Then he reminds Goku that he claimed that he would finish this “quickly”. I think Goku knows better now, but let’s face it, he took Vegeta too lightly. He was sure that he could turn Super Saiyan 2 and blow him out of the water without a whole lot of trouble, because he’s spent most of their rivalry in the lead.

Then he slaps him in the face, and Goku can’t do shit. This part right here is the receipt for all the times Goku looked past Vegeta or failed to take him seriously. You can argue that he spared Vegeta all those years ago as an act of compassion or sportsmanship, but another way to interpret it is as an insult. To put it another way, Goku let Vegeta live because he didn’t think he was dangerous enough to kill. I think that’s how Vegeta’s always seen it, and now he’s out to prove otherwise.

So he’s just teeing off on the guy now. The message here is: If Goku doesn’t like this sort of thing, he should have killed Vegeta when he had the chance, because he’ll never get it again.

Then Vegeta has an extended flashback. The dub has him narrate this, which is one of my favorite monologues in this series, but the Japanese version just plays the footage, letting it speak for itself. I guess there’s a case to be made for either approach, but Chris Sabat killed this scene.

The bottom line is that Goku humilitated him in their first encounter by standing up to him and beating him up, and then he saved his life. Vegeta plans to avenge himself by tearing him to pieces. He means to kill Goku, which I don’t really understand, seeing as he’s already dead.

And this is where I think Babidi’s mind control may be somewhat underrated in this battle. I think it’s pretty easy to assume that this is how Vegeta would normally behave, but is it, though? Was he planning to face Goku in the world tournament and chop off his arms while their families looked on in horror? I’m pretty sure he wasn’t this hardcore about it going in. Before, he had resigned himself to never seeing Goku again, and then he was coming back for the tournament, and Vegeta was excited to face him under any terms, even while governed by the tournament rules, and Gohan’s “no-transforming” request. He wanted to beat Goku clean, sure, but he wasn’t nearly this bitter about it.

Now, this fucker wants to vivisect Goku. I’m pretty sure that’s Babidi’s handiwork, amplifying old grievances that Vegeta had probably moved past a long time ago.

Except...

Goku’s not done yet.

Every time Majin Vegeta gets surprised, I get a little more excited. This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? You self-important prick. You killed all those people just to get this guy mad enough to fight you.

WELL GUESS WHAT, JACKASS?

YOU GOT HIM.

ALL OF HIM.

I get chills every time I watch this part. Majin Vegeta is played up to be this horrible thing. The awesome power of Vegeta with none of the restraint, and if Goku even tries to stop him, he’ll just be playng into Babidi’s hands. Critics can say that this is a no-win scenario, or that Goku’s holding back during this fight, or that he’s not as into this as Vegeta is.

But this sequence here tells the story. Goku doesn’t have a long flashback to explain his motivation here. We’ve already seen it. This blue-pajamas-wearing idiot came to his planet to start shit. Goku was fighting to protect his home and everything he holds dear, and he barely managed to save the day, and that makes him the bad guy here? Vegeta broke Goku’s legs in that battle, but for some reason Vegeta wants revenge for that day. Vegeta beat the shit out of Goku’s son. Several times. Then he let Cell become perfect, and Goku and Gohan had to clean up his mess. Goku’s dead because of Vegeta’s arrogance, but Vegeta wants revenge?

There’s a part here where Vegeta tries to full-nelson Goku and impale him on a stalactite, and Goku just powers out of it. Goku’s not saying a lot in this fight, but he’s pissed, make no mistake. He’s just focused enough and gentle enough not to say anything.

He’s not shooting a Kamehameha inside a cave because he’s detached.

Vegeta fires back and the whole thing explodes.

So let’s be clear about this. There’s a relentless, wild animal in this battle, who won’t stop fighting no matter what. Also, Vegeta is here, and he has a goofy tattoo on his forehead.

Meanwhile, Gohan and the Supreme Kai have arrived at the chamber where Buu’s ball is kept, and Babidi and Dabura are there to greet them. Babidi isn’t worried at all, since he figures Dabura will be enough to hold them off until Majin Buu is ready. On the other hand, the Kai thinks he can kill Babidi wile Gohan holds off Dabura, and that should put an end to all of this.

But he’d better act fast, because Buu’s ball is glowing hot pink, and getting hotter and pinker by the second.

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