#and not to mention what happened to Paul later in life

[howblunt]

The only reason they made Paul and Jess not work out was because they hate me

[0bticeo]

lurk | feyd-rautha

part one of five. (part 2.) (part 3.) (part 4.)

summary:

feyd-rautha. 

there he is, strong arms spread wide, dual blades stained black, basking in the glorious aftermath of combat. at his feet, atreides soldiers. dead.

you unsheathe your blade, the dull metal grinding against its sheath.

it is kill or be killed, and you intend to live.

wc: 2k

tw: blood. death. non graphic description of gore (this is a gladiator fight). mentions of eugenics. fighting as foreplay. reader may or may not have a blood kink. knife kink??? reader is more refined than feyd but don't let it fool you she's a freak. uuuh hubris? probable inaccurate handling of dune lore, esp with the voice (forgive me for the creative liberty of assuming the mother of the kwisatz haderach should be a freak. as a treat.)

many, many years ago, the sisterhood deems you ready for the gom jabbar. you enter the room, your mother a looming shadow, hands folded in her sleeves, head bowed before a long figure cloaked in shadows.

it doesn’t sit right with you, this intrusion in your mother’s parlor. how dare that old witch make a servant out of your mother in her own house?

“kneel.”

you do. you fall to your knees. before you, a phalto green box. in it, pain. at your neck, the gom jabbar, its deadly poison whispering into your ear.

it tells you about sweet, sweet little death. it tells you the reverend mother will not put your life in danger. not when you’re the culmination of nineteen generations of careful planning.

you are to be married to a harkonnen and bear the kwisatz haderach.

so you raise your head and put your hand in the box, eyes boring into the old crone’s. you see something flash in her depthless eyes. you think of the calm before mother-storms, the stillness of the air before pounding rain. 

it’s rage.

pain shoots through your hand. fire that burns and charrs and eats away at your flesh, consuming one layer of skin after another until you’re sure it reaches the bone below. you almost scream. instead, you bite your lip until metal-blood stains your tongue. 

you will endure this pain. you will not let fear consume you — you have nothing to fear, you shall not die, not here. fear is the mind killer. pain is the mind killer. you will let it wash over you and face the eons of bene gesserit knowledge standing before you.

through gritted teeth, you ask:

“am i human enough, oh wise one?”

you were. otherwise you wouldn’t be here, years later, rotting in a harkonnen cell. 

(there are things that have been kept a secret from you. you have been raised following your mother’s footsteps in the weirding way. the reverend mother denied you a place under her tutelage with harsh words and a harsher look. you’ve caught wind of her thoughts in shimmering fragments of dreams — what has jessica done?)

it will matter, in the end, that your mother decided to give your father a son. already, you’ve seen it, behind the web of your eyelids, the lone silhouette of your brother, blood of your blood, rising, rising.

he will gather them, the fremen, from the burning sands of arrakis, and rise, blade glinting under scorching sun. lisan al gaib, they already call him, hushed whispers lost in the shifting sands of dunes. 

your hand falls to your womb, empty still. 

they were scared, the bene gesserit. the atreides line was growing too powerful, too fast. you — the promised daughter, skilled in the way, with tongue and mind sharper than your blade — are to be bred and deliver the one.

but in came paul — beloved little mouse of a younger brother. too smart, too observant, too skilled, too much. your mother’s defiance, your mother’s love for your father led her to commit the unthinkable and defy the order.

it retaliated.

you’ve been betrayed. that, you’ve seen coming. so did your father. so did your mother. even your brother felt it, in his very bones, the low thrum of wrongness. something was bound to happen. something was bound to shake you to your very core. 

something happened.

the harkonnens came. house atreides fell. you can still smell it, the stench of death, the bloodied sands beneath your feet as you struck and struck.

all must die, and so they did.

you feel it still, the blood coating your hands, your forearms, dripping from your blade, the old scar on your forearm burning righteous fury. 

they caught you, in the end. you, who willingly put a target on your back, allowing your brother and mother’s quiet escape. you, beaten down, bloodied. grinning, voice warping the harkonnen rats’ perception.

“you will not see me as i am.”

the atreides have been set up. offering arrakis has been nothing but a convenient way for the emperor to get rid of your bloodline.

you scoff; in the quiet depths of your cell, your fingers dig crescent moons in your palms.

you’ve been taught to read behind veils upon veils of lies. the truthsayer suggested the eradication of your house. painted you a threat.

being able to breed the kwisatz haderach won’t protect you.

so here you are, eldest daughter of duke leto atreides and lady jessica, older sister to paul atreides. here you are, sitting with your back pressed up against the wall. cold seeps into your marrow, reaching bone. rage simmers low in your gut. you quell it. nurse it until it becomes a living beast eager to feast.

you will need it.

your body fails you. your sight is blurry, your hands tremble. they should not. duncan would have hit the back of your head had he been there. he isn’t. (dead.) breathe in. breathe out. focus what’s left of your attention on the too small bowl of food that’s been given to you, on the glass of water. empty, both of them. 

poison isn’t a problem — not with your training, not with the constant shifting and turning of lethal molecules within you. there. prana bindu — precise alteration of the body’s vitals. you will bear your condition for a time, weakened, but alive.

you clench your fist and slam it against the wall. pain surges through you, burning through your joint. good. if fear is the mind killer, pain clears the fog clogging your brain.

here goes: you’re rotting in the cell of your hereditary enemy, malnourished and poisoned. you’ve heard the guards, their off handed comments when they thought you too drugged to understand. your cell is below an arena. you will need to fight. perhaps, they’ll pit you against your men. the atreides house, dying by its own hand. fitting. 

you’re neck-deep in trouble.

the door slides open. two guards come in, all dressed in black. harkonnens. harkonnens everywhere, and you cannot do a damned thing as they pull you up, pushing you out of your cell. they’re laughing. those bastards are laughing.

one less atreides scum in the known universe — good riddance!

you will tear into them and rip out their spine with your teeth.

they drag you in a maze of hallways, each darker than the last. you’re ascending, a catabasis of twists and turns and sliding doors. there’s a low thrum in your gut. louder and louder with each step is a pulse. a chant. a name. 

the guards press a blade in your hand and push you forward.

the door slides up. shadows part. you blink with a low hiss. light pours down on you, all-consuming, blinding. sands stretch before you, unnaturally white.

the arena.

thousands upon thousands of people gaze down at you. the voice surges forward, eons of your foremother speaking through you.

“you will not perceive me as i am.”

something trickles down your nose. blood. you’ve overdone it. the voice isn’t meant to be used against that many people, not for long.

you wipe it off.

it will have to hold for the time of this fight. the harkonnen won’t rest until the atreides are completely and utterly wiped out. deceit is your only chance at survival.

the thought makes your blood boil. 

good thing the crowd is screaming for it. they're all screaming for it. a pulse. a chant. a name.

feyd-rautha. 

there he is, strong arms spread wide, dual blades stained black, basking in the glorious aftermath of combat. at his feet, atreides soldiers. dead.

you unsheathe your blade, the dull metal grinding against its sheath.

the noise alone has him turning towards you, head tilting to the side. he’s assessing you, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen. he glances up. for a split second, you follow his gaze. above, looking down upon you, is baron vladimir harkonnen, gargantuan mass of flesh.

you want him to collapse. to watch as his bones break under the weight of monstrous grease. you make out the movement of his lips.

happy birthday, nephew.

he’s on you before you can react. your blade raises. steel meets steel. you clench your teeth. his strength surpasses yours. you won’t yield, not to him. but by god is the bastard strong. you’ve got your hands full with just parrying his blows, the force of them echoing in your very bones. your feet slide on the sand below. any more and you’ll lose your footing.

his blades meet yours, again and again, their serrated edge slicing the corrupt air of the arena. they slice through you, too. a vicious cut on your bare forearm has you reeling back, your blade and sheath raising to parry.

this is bad. there’s only so much you can deal with in your decrepit state. fighting to survive isn’t an option — you must kill or be killed.

.

.

.

you draw in a sharp breath.  

watchful eyes bore down upon you. bene gesserit. the reverend mother herself has come to geidi prime.

something at your side — you let your guard down. there’s a flash, a metallic clang. feyd-rautha gazes down upon you, apex predator with your death written in the greedy sands of the arena. here, you’re precious prey. 

rage grips you by the throat and has you baring your teeth.

there you are, blades intertwined with harkonnen scum, a breath away from his lips. they part in a slow, assessing grin. you feel more than you see his appraising gaze raking over you. you, unyielding, matching him blow for blow, blood drip drip dripping down. under the black sun of geidi prime, it, too, has turned a velvety black.

from above your crossed blades, you raise your head and meet his eyes — twin pools of dark, abysses made to consume you whole. time slows down. you want to drown in the marrow of him and feel the warmth of his flesh beneath yours, lost in rapturous agony. something settles in your gut, low and warm.

you call it fury.

you pivot out of the way and nick him, a thin cut splitting open the skin of his cheek. he laughs. slashes at you with deathly precision. you duck, squatting down, leg springing forth, slamming at the back of his knee. he falls. catches you by the ankle and drags you to him.

you snarl. 

“let go.”

how utterly pathetic of you. his grip falters. you hear his blades fall to the ground. you twist, pivot until you’re straddling him, blade pressed against his throat.

there you have it. internal carotid, right below the sculpted edge of his jaw. five minutes until death. five minutes, with his lifeblood coating your hands, soaking your robes, sinking down to your skin beneath.

your hand cramps on the handle of your weapon, in a mockery of rigor mortis. nervous impulse. the tip of the blade pierces tender flesh, drawing a droplet of blood. you follow its path down the column of his flesh, until it reaches the edge of his collarbone.

his hands surges forward, seizing your forearm in a vice grip, yanking you towards him. you feel his breath on your lips with his next words.

“do it.”

his voice sends a shiver down your spine. low, gravelly, it calls for blood. if you don’t spill his, yours will be drawn. yet, you do not move, eyes riveted to his face, to the vicious impatience carved in his features. if you kill him, you’ll be hunted and put down like a dog. 

he shifts under you, the nervous twitch of a beast untamed. even through the hard edges of his ritual armor, you can feel the raw power of him.

you feel his thumb trace the edge of an old scar, up, up your forearm, a flash of black teeth and then— 

pain.

there’s something in your side, serrated, razor-sharp, twisting. your hand raises to your side. warmth trickles down your fingers. his hand wraps over yours, warm, blood a silky black against the porcelain of his skin.

he watches you, twisting the blade until yours fall to the ground, bloodied hand coming up to your cheek. you lean into it. welcome him, as his thumb smears blood across the edge of your parted lips.

“you fought well, atreides.” 

he pulls out the blade.

you fall.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

[cynthiav06]

I can Almost imagine how Impressive you have to be To Pull THE percy Jackson. Like pulling any Demi-God is great but PERCY?!? The son of posiden?!? THE SAVIOR of Olympus?!?

I headcanon that Percy is really just out of Anyone's League And You gotta be Pretty damn Special to be able to Pull him

Like imagine Fumbling him or breaking his heart

THIS IS HOW IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN.

Like come on Rick you are telling me Percy the greatest demigod of all time Jackson has to be paired up with someone who has nothing in common with him, frequently condescends him, literally forces her own views on him, hates his father, has a mother who tried to kill Percy, is controlling and toxically possessive of him and most importantly someone who has completely different life goals than him?? It doesn't even make sense when you look at it rationally.

I think Rick himself was trying to put Percy down in post Son of Neptune books by making his personality all about Annabeth.

We are talking about the Savior of Olympus, the bearer of Achilles Curse, the strongest demigod, the man who denied immortality from the King of Gods, Poseidon's favorite son, the only demigod to have been approached by other Pantheons first and well respected among their demigod equivalents, the only male demigod to have respect of Artemis, only one to be favored by so many Gods on the Olympian Council and that's only pre-Heroes of Olympus.

The Survivor of Tartarus, the demigod whose blood even Gaia wanted to wake to due to his power, the first and only Greek to be made a Praetor and now two times savior of Olympus. This is all without mentioning his singular and unique feats, and he has many.

AND THIS IS WHAT RICK DOES WITH HIS CHARACTER ARC????

Had Rick not been so obsessed with shoving Percabeth down our throats, he could have totally made Seafam Arc, and all our fics would have not been fics. We wouldn't even have needed headcanons for seafam cause Amphitrite and Triton and all of Atlantis would have absolutely loved him cause come on, it's Percy. It's impossible not to love him. So let's assume that's exactly what happened.

So the whole of Atlantis, Seafam, and most of the Olympian Gods love Percy and not to mention Sally and Paul, who are also very protective of Percy.

The new Lord of the Wild is his best friend, The Lieutenant of Artemis is his other best friend and cousin, both the children of Hades/Pluto are his best friends/cousins, the only other demigod to be blessed by Poseidon with a rare gift is also his very close friend not to mention other members of the Seven also respect him greatly and owe him quite a bit.

Hestia, Apollo, Hermes, Aphrodite, Artemis,Hades, Hepheastus, and even Dionysus and River gods either openly favor him or have much respect for him. (Poseidon and the Seafam are implied, Bob and Damasen as well).

This isn't even taking into account all the pegasi and nymphs and sea creatures who love him and that he has a literal hell hound.

Percy not only has friends in high places and the favor of literal gods on top of being Poseidon's favorite son as told by Poseidon himself, all the people with special abilities are all close friends with him.

In Riordanverse, Percy is like the only person you don't want to cross like ever.

So you know logically if anyone needs an explanation as to why Annabeth isn't a good match for him and someone like Rachel would have fit much better. A mortal blessed with sight much like his Mother later turned Oracle of Delphi, the girl who saved his life in literally the very first two encounters they have, a girl under protection of Olympians and blessed by Apollo?

Apollo could have definitely waived the celibacy rule as there have been mentions of married women later becoming oracles in Greek mythology( May Castellan too if you count the books) and that the rule is only to prove devotion to the God nothing more. And if Apollo can't, then Delphi, who is a spirit older than Gods themselves, could just change allegiances. She once belonged to Poseidons' domain, so there's that.

But since I am biased in favor of Rachel, literally any other ship but Percabeth would have been logical and fitting and better off compatibility wise.

[lowtaperfeyd]

Jessica and atreides!reader angst? (Mother and daughter angst then yn slowly turns into evil which jessica slowly realise the pattern was repeating)

Metamorphosis

Lady Jessica x Daughter!reader

(Not beta read, we die like Feyd-Rautha)

author's note: If you guys can't tell I really like writing angst. This is also the longest thing I've written so far :). Also trying a new formatting type.

warnings: mentions of death, mommy issues, mentions of blood, mentions of Paul after drinking the water of life

wc: 1145

Lady Jessica did her job halfway right. To ensure she completed her Bene Gesserit mission, gave birth to twins. A boy named Paul and a girl named (Y/N). While the loophole was clever, the Bene Gesserit could not use the daughter she had given birth to. They said she had tainted her womb while bearing a son. 

Her father, the Duke Leto Atreides, was the only one who actually taught her important things. When she was little she would sit in a stool pulled up near her fathers desk and watch him go through paperwork and meeting notes. While he trained his son to become duke, he trained his daughter what to do in case something happened to Paul. He didn’t brush her off. 

Lady Jessica focused most of her time on Paul. His training, his skills, and his talent. While (Y/N) was taught how to use the Bene Gesserit ways by other members and not her mother. While those tutors did their job well, and she was learning quite a lot, (Y/N) found that her brother, a male, was progressing much faster than her. She was proud of her brother. It wasn’t her brother’s fault, it was her mother’s. 

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

A younger (Y/N) and Paul sat on the damp grass on Caladan on a breezy afternoon. They watched the sun lower into the sky and begin to graze where the horizon met the sea. (Y/N) took small daisies from the ground and started to make a flower crown out of them. 

“You know Paul, if you continue to improve at this rate I wouldn’t be surprised if you were better than our mother.” (Y/N) praised as she continued to pick and tie other flowers together. 

“No, no, no,” her brother replied modestly, “what she is teaching me is all of what she knows. Sooner or later I’ll plateau.” 

“You never know,” (Y/N) chuckled, cheekily, “Maybe one day she’ll go to you for advice.”

When (Y/N) finished the thin crown, she placed it onto Paul's head.

“There,” she said, “I now dubbed thy, Duke Paul Atreides of Caladan. Who will be an excellent and fair ruler.”

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

The only thing that (Y/N) had against Paul, was that her ability to use the voice was much better than his. Paul sounded like a dying horse and (Y/N) could command hundreds of people with her voice. (Y/N) found incredible joy from this. But this fact scared Lady Jessica. 

Lady Jessica was afraid of the power her daughter held. She knew of her hatred against her brother who took most of the time spent learning. Of course this all wouldn’t matter when the Duke died and they lived in the desert with the Fremen. Until Paul had a war forged in his name and (Y/N) had nothing but her brain. 

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

(Y/N) was standing in front of the giant pool of water, watching her reflection rippled and ebbed. As she stood there, she imagined a war that was fought in her name instead of Paul’s. Tons of water, from people who died while waiting for the ‘Lisan Al-Giab’ If this was my war, no one would die. She thought. After a couple of minutes a Fremen woman came by and poured the water of another warrior. If my mother and her witches hadn’t meddled, we wouldn’t have this mess. She stood there for hours, hours past when the sun went down, pondering her existence and her brother’s willingness to say he was the messiah. 

“Are you going to keep looking at your reflection or are you coming to bed?” She heard her mother say. 

“Does it matter if I stay up late? I’ve nothing to do on Arrakis.” (Y/N) responded, sounding completely uninterested in talking to her mother. 

“It does matter, you need sleep in order to thrive.” Lady Jessica declared. 

“Don’t try acting like you care now,” her daughter bit back, coldly, “don’t try acting like a caring mother. Go spread more rumors about Paul.” she sighed out. 

“They aren’t rumors, (Y/N),” She retorted, “It’s what he’s going to do. You and everyone else here realizes who he is and his potential. You need to help Paul.” 

(Y/N) bundled her hands into fists at her sides. Her knuckles popped at how hard she was squeezing them. Your son has changed far beyond what was expected. she thought, you barely recognize him anymore. 

“Would me dying for your cause be sufficient?” (Y/N) uttered under her breath as she continued to look at her reflection, “Should I stand out there and be a martyr? The loving sister of the Kwisatz Haderach…” 

Lady Jessica breathed in sharply and said nothing in return. She took her hands and put them over her stomach where her other child was. 

(Y/N) turned around to look at her mother, “You agree don’t you?’ she assumed.

Still, the Lady said nothing and just looked at her daughter. She met her daughter's eyes. The blue within blue encased her small pupils and her skin looking paler and deeper set than when they had left Arrakis. 

“Why aren’t you speaking?” Her daughter whispered, “Tell me what you think!”

“I think you as a martyr would do as much damage as if you were alive,” She voiced, “your death would be mourned. But, it would not change anything.” 

The sudden use of the voice surprised and startled Lady Jessica, “You imbecile, you using the Voice on your own mother.” 

“You didn’t seem to mind when Paul used it on your old reverend mother,” (Y/N) stated, “Paul and I did the same thing, use the Voice on a reverend mother.”

“You used it on your mother. Paul seized the moment so he could speak.”

“You were never a mother.” (Y/N) asserted, “you were a housemate, an incubator 

at best.” 

This stunned the reverend mother. She had never heard her daughter speak so unrighteously and sternly. It was almost like she had never really known her. The (Y/N) she knew, the sweet girl who collected wildflowers that had grown on the cliff sides, had died when they landed on Arrakis and was replaced by someone cold and quiet. 

“I’ll help my brother.” (Y/N) expressed as she moved closer to her mother, “I’ll do as he says. No matter how much you go against it. It doesn’t matter if he asks me to burn temples or castles, or even destroy planets. As long as I don’t have to follow you.” 

As she concluded her announcement, she turned to hastily walk out of the dark, humid cavern. 

Leaving Lady Jessica on her own; to see what had become of her daughter who would burn down the world if given the chance and her son who slipped unnecessary blood in the name of war. 

[youryurigoddess]

A nightingale sang in the London Blitz

When exactly was that certain night, the night Aziraphale and Crowley met — and spoke for the first time in 79 years in the midst of the London Blitz?

And what’s the deal with the nightingale’s song, really?

Grab something to drink and we’ll look for some Clues below.

The night they met

The Blitz, short for Blitzkrieg (literally: flash war) was a German aerial bombing campaign on British cities in the WW2, spanning between 7 September 1940 and 10 May 1941. The Luftwaffe attacks were carried out almost non stop, with great intensity meant to force a capitulation and similarly strong impact on British life and culture at the time.

Starting on 7 September 1940, London as the capital city was bombed for nearly 60 consecutive nights. More than one million London houses were destroyed or damaged, and more than 20,000 civilians were killed, half of the total victims of this campaign.

The night of 29 December 1940 saw the most ferocity, becoming what is now known as the Second Great Fire of London. The opening shot of the S2 1941 minisode is a direct reference to recordings of that event, with the miraculously saved St Paul’s Cathedral in the upper left corner.

The actual raid lasted between 06:15 and 09:45 PM, but its aftermath continued for days. The old and dense architecture of this particular part of the city turned into a flaming inferno larger than the Great Fire of 1666. Multiple buildings, including churches, were destroyed in just one night by over 100,000 bombs.

Incendiary bombs fell also on St Dunstan-in-the-East church that night, the real-life location of this scene as intended by Neil. It was gutted and again claimed by fire in one of the last air rides on 10 May, when the bomb destroyed the nave and roof and blew out the stained glass windows. The ruins survived to this day as a memorial park to the Blitz.

Such a delightfully Crowley thing to do: saving a bag of books with a demonic miracle adding to the biggest catastrophe for the publishing and book trade in years. 5 million volumes were lost, multiple bookshops and publishing houses destroyed in the December 29th raid alone.

Even without this context, judging by the seemingly unending night, overwhelming cold and darkness, broken heating at the theatre, and seasonal clothing (like Aziraphale and Crowley’s extremely nice winter coats), it’s rather clear that it was the very beginning of the year 1941.

Everything suggests that Aziraphale and Crowley’s Blitz reunion happened exactly 1900 years after their meeting in Rome — which, according to the script book, took place between 1 and 24 January 41 (Crowley was right: emperor Caligula was a mad tyrant and didn't need any additional tempting; there's a reason why he was murdered by his closest advisors, including members of his Praetorian Guard, on 24 January 41).

Interestingly, both events involved a role reversal in their otherwise stable dynamic, with Aziraphale spontaneously taking the lead instead of letting the demon be the one to do all the tempting and saving, and ended with a toast.

The S2 Easter Egg with the nuns of the Chattering Order of St Beryl playing table tennis at the theatre suggests that the Blitz meeting happened on a Tuesday afternoon, which doesn’t match any of the above mentioned days, but sets the in-universe date for 7 January 1941 or later.

The Chattering Order of Saint Beryl is under a vow to emulate Saint Beryl at all times, except on Tuesday afternoons, for half an hour, when the nuns are permitted to shut up, and, if they wish, to play table tennis.

The nightingale

January means one thing: absolutely no migratory birds in Europe yet. They’re blissfully wintering in the warm sun of Northern Africa at the time. But, ironically, when the real nightingales flew off, a certain song about them suddenly gained popularity in the West End of London.

It might be a shock, but A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square wasn’t a hit from the start — even though its creators, Eric Maschwitz and Manning Sherwin, were certainly established in their work at this point. The song was written in the then-small French fishing village of Le Lavandou shortly before the outbreak of the Second World War with first performance in the summer of 1939 in a local bar, where the melody was played on piano by the composer Manning Sherwin with the help of the resident saxophonist. Maschwitz sang his lyrics while holding a glass of wine, but nobody seemed impressed. It took time and a small miracle to change that.

Next year, the 23-year-old actress Judy Campbell had planned to perform a monologue of Dorothy Parker’s in the upcoming Eric Maschwitz revue „New Faces”. But somehow the script had been mislaid and, much to her horror, replaced with the song A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square. She had never professed to be a singer but even so, she gathered her courage and went out onto the moonlit set dressed in a white ball gown. Her heartfelt rendition of the now evocative ballad captured the audience’s imagination and catapulted her West End career to stardom.

It was precisely 11 April 1940 at the Comedy Theatre in Panton Street and the revue itself proved to be a great success — not only it kept playing two performances nightly through the Blitz, but also returned the next year. And the still operating Comedy Theatre is mere five minutes on foot from the Windmill Theatre, where Aziraphale performed in 1941, and not much longer from his bookshop.

Now, most Good Omens meta analyses focus on Vera Lynn’s version of the song from 5 June 1940, but it didn’t get much attention until autumn, specifically 15 November, when Glenn Miller and his orchestra published another recording. And Glenn Miller himself is a huge point of reference in Good Omens 2.

According to the official commentary the infamous credits scene is establishing Aziraphale and Crowley’s final resolve for the next season using the same narrative device The Glenn Miller Story (1954) does in its most crucial scene. It starts with the tune (and audio in general) totally flat, then adds a piano on one side, and gradually becomes fully multidimensional. The Good Omens credits not only emulate the same sound effect, but bring it to the visual side of the narrative by literally combining the individual perspectives of the two characters together. Even though they’re physically apart, their resolve — and love to each other — brings them even closer than before. Aziraphale smiles not because he’s being brainwashed, but because he knows exactly what to do next.

Some of you might have noticed that Tori Amos’s performance for Good Omens is actually a slightly shortened version of Miller’s recording — much less sorrowful than Vera Lynn’s full lyrics that include i.a. this bridge:

The dawn came stealing up

All gold and blue

To interrupt our rendez-vous

I still remember how you smiled and said

Was that a dream or was it true?

Which is a huge hint when it comes to what we can expect from the main romantic plot line in the Good Omens series. The original song introduces an element of the doubt — it seems like there was no nightingale at all, only the mirage woven by the singer clearly intoxicated with love, much like Aziraphale and Crowley for the length of the last six episodes. Crowley’s comment in the season finale might allude to that interpretation, stating that there are no nightingales — never have been. It was all a dream. But the version we’re working with here is short and sweet, and devoid of that doubt. In the Good Omens universe angels were actually dining at the Ritz, the streets were truly paved with stars (or will be shown as such in the next season), and a nightingale really sang in Berkeley Square, as the omniscient, omnipresent, and omnipotent narrator, God Herself, had shown us.

All in all, it’s not an accident that the “modern” swing ballad activating Aziraphale’s memory and opening the 1941 minisode is the Moonlight Serenade by Glenn Miller. It’s a track naturally associated with A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square when it comes to music style and the sentiment in the lyrics.

But why the sudden popularity? In the great uncertainty and hardship of the Blitz, A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square provided solace and escapism for listeners, offering a glimpse of hope and love amidst the darkness of war. It became a universal anthem of resilience and a reminder of the power of love transcending difficulties. By January 1941 the whole city knew this tune by heart, including a certain West End aficionado with a cabinet full of theatre programs in his bookshop. Thanks to Maggie’s grandmother, he most probably had a record at hand to play during his spontaneous wine night with Crowley. We can only suspect the details, but it was was mutually established as their song exactly at that time or soon afterwards. Pretty sure we will see a third installment of that minisode for many, many reasons, but especially because of this “several days in 1941” answer by Neil:

The Man Hunt

In 1941 A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square gained even more popularity as the romantic theme of the Fritz Lang’s newest film Man Hunt. The 1939 story by Geoffrey Household first appeared under the title “Rogue Male” as a serial in the Atlantic Monthly Magazine where it received widespread comment, soon becoming a world-wide phenomenon in novel form. Its premise criticizes Britain's pre-war policy of appeasement with Germany, ready to sacrifice its own innocent citizens to the tentative status quo. Sounds a bit like Heaven's politics, right?

Yes, I'm trying to make you watch old movies again — like all the other classics, Man Hunt (1941) is easily available on YouTube and other streaming websites.

The next part will include spoilers, so scroll down to the next picture if you prefer to avoid them.

The plot of the movie seems simple enough: the tall, dark, and handsome Alan Thorndike, who nearly assassinates Hitler, narrowly escapes Germany and back in London continues to evade the Nazi agents sent after him with the help of a young trench-clad “seamstress” named Jerry, bridging the class divide and becoming unlikely friends-partners-romantic interests. It doesn’t end well though.

Jerry's small London apartment serves as a hideout for Alan when he was being followed by Nazis, similarly to how Aziraphale's bookshop is a safe haven for both Crowley and Gabriel in S2. She helps the man navigate the streets and eventually out of London — by sacrificing herself and getting forcefully separated from him by a patrolling policeman. The last time they see each other, Alan watches Jerry look back at him yearningly and disappear in the fog, followed by the elderly officer.

Unfortunately in the next scene we learn that the latter is a Nazi collaborator and helps the agents apprehend Jerry in her own flat. Staying loyal to her love and uncooperative, she’s ultimately thrown out of a window to her death, but posthumously saves Alan once again — through the arrow-shaped hatpin he gifted her earlier that is presented to him as the evidence of her off-screen fate.

Long story short, thanks to Jerry’s sacrifice Alan not only survives, but is able to join the war that broke out in the meantime and go back to Germany, armed with a rifle and a final resolve to end what he started, no matter how long will it take. The justice will be served and the dictator will pay with his life for his sins.

I wouldn’t be myself without mentioning that the main villain has a Roman chariot statue similar to the one in Aziraphale’s bookshop, an antique sculpture of St Sebastian (well-known as the gayest Catholic Saint) foreshadowing his demise, and a chess set symbolizing the titular manhunt/game of tag with the protagonist.

Aziraphale’s song

Will Aziraphale sacrifice himself as well? Or has he already? If his coin magic trick can be any indicator, we should expect at least a shadow of a danger touching the angel’s wings soon.

Let’s sum up the 1941 events from Aziraphale’s perspective: the very first time they’ve interacted after almost a century, Crowley actively sabotaged his entire existence twice by stepping onto a holy ground and by being outed by agents of Hell, both on the very same night and both because of his undying dedication to the angel. That’s enough of a reason not only for performing an apology dance, but also maintaining a careful distance for Crowley’s sake for the next 26 years. Only when he heard that his idiot was planning to rob a church, he gave up since he “can't have him risking his life”.

That’s when Crowley, sitting in a car parked right under his bookshop, offered him a ride. It wasn’t even subtle anymore. It was supposed to be a date, this time both of them understood it. But Aziraphale wouldn’t risk Crowley’s safety for his own happiness, especially not when he can name his feelings towards him and knows that they are reciprocated — the biggest lesson he learnt back in 1941.

So he did what he’s best at, he cut Crowley off again, but this time with a promise of catching up to his speed at some point. Buddy Holly’s Everyday, which was originally planned to play afterwards instead of the Good Omens theme, adds additional context here:

No, thank you. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. Perhaps one day we could... I don't know… Go for a picnic. Dine at the Ritz.

Aziraphale, carefully looking around and feeling observed through the whole conversation in the Bentley, consciously used the “Dine at the Ritz” line from A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square, from their song, as a code only the two of them understand. Not as a suggestion to go out for a meal, but a promise. A hope for the privilege of being openly in love and together — maybe someday, not now, when it’s too dangerous — even if it leads to a bad ending.

Fast forward to 2023 when for one dreadful moment Crowley’s “No nightingales” robbed Aziraphale even of that semblance of hope. He looked away, unable to stop his tears anymore. Only their kiss helped him pull himself together and make sure that a nightingale did sing the last time he turned — just like in their song — this time without a smile, as a goodbye.

[a-a-a-anon]

appreciation post for Lise Mayer!! she co-wrote The Young Ones (and The Bachelor Boys book, additional material like when they did Comic Relief, etc), which is well known. but she also wrote for other things in the alternative comedy scene like Rik Mayall and Ben Elton's comedy tour (source: BBC Breakfast Time interview)! and, something I didn't know until recently: she co-wrote/wrote for Kevin Turvey! she's not credited in his television appearances, but see below for sources.

i really loved the podcast episode she did with Alexei Sayle about TYO, you gain a lot of insight into her perspective! she also mentions misogynistic treatment like being asked to go make tea when they were doing script readings, not getting invited to a big BBC party because it was presumed she'd be Rik's plus-one, and getting groped at the BBC bar. it pissed me off on her behalf and partly prompted this post.

some specific accolades/accreditation/fun facts:

Rik crediting her with writing/conceiving the Kevin Turvey non-joke "All right, biting political satire: What do Lech Walesea and Menachem Begin have in common? They’ve both got foreign names! What do you mean it’s not funny?" (x)

Alexei Sayle in Thatcher Stole My Trousers crediting Lise with co-writing Turvey: "Lise was, like Linda for mine, a vital part of Rik’s career, co-writing both The Young Ones and Rik’s character Kevin Turvey..."

a 1987 source for Lise co-writing Turvey: "The assumption that women do not write comedy scripts was one with which Lise Mayer, co-writer of The Young Ones television series, has also had to contend. She started writing for Rik Mayall’s Kevin Turvey in the television series A Kick Up the Eighties..." (x)

Rowland Rivron (comedian who toured with The Comic Strip gang and lived with Rik and Lise) in What the f*** did I do last night?: "[Lise] also had the unenviable job of standing at the side of the stage when Rik was performing, and jotting down anything he said that was unscripted. If it got a laugh, it would be woven into the next night’s routine."

the only time i've ever seen a Rik Mayall/Ade Edmondson/Lise Mayer writing credit: for a poem called Distance which was collected in this anthology! Rik and Ade seem to have acted it out (or at least a version of it) in this 20th Century Coyote performance

Rik on Lise writing TYO: "‘She discovers different things: the comedy of embarrassment and awkwardness – she draws out the cheating and stealing that goes on in the house.’" (x) (Lise also says her "favorite comedy was always the comedy of embarrassment" in the Alexei Sayle podcast)

Rik: "... Lise Mayer wrote this great scene where I find a tampon in a handbag and it's my birthday party and I think it's a present because my character is Rick, who is such a git, he didn't know." (x)

Helen Lederer in Not That I'm Bitter, writing about being on The Young Ones: "[Lise] was known to be the brains behind it all, particularly the more surreal elements…"

she and Rik chose the bands (x)

Lise: “We’d have a table read at which point we’d discover that the script ran over an hour long, and then I’d have a sleepless night editing it.” Alexei: “You did that?” Lise: “Usually me, yeah…” (she later explains they'd present the script Monday and rehearsals were Tuesday, Wednesday-so she literally had one night to edit!) (x)

facts from the blu-ray commentary tracks:

Rick's yellow dungarees in Interesting were based off a picture of Lise in a similar pair

Lise wrote an essay about the tampon joke in Interesting so that the BBC didn't cut the scene (though they still edited it)

Paul Jackson (producer) credits Lise with arguing "you are seriously telling me that we cannot refer on television to something that happens to 50% of the population for about 30 years of their life? and we're not allowed to even refer to it" to make an executive back off about the tampon joke in a meeting

Lise came up with Neil's flowerpot covering in Nasty

Vyvyan/Vivian's name comes from Lise having lived in Vyvyan Terrace, Bristol

Lise thought of the cast switching costumes in Bambi (one of my favorite moments!!) (/end of commentary track facts)

this is guesswork, but i've seen Ben Elton and Rik Mayall's handwriting and i'm pretty sure the editing/handwriting on the bottom left on this script must be Lise's, which gives insight into what/how she wrote: (x)

i feel like it's easy for people to overlook or minimize Lise's impact, something that happens to female creators far too often. i hate when women's identities are framed around their association to a man-girlfriend to Rik in this case-which was the norm whenever i saw Lise discussed in articles/books/online discussions about TYO. it's important to know she was a writer and co-creator with her own identity and (underappreciated) contributions. The Young Ones (and Kevin Turvey, and things we don't even know she goes uncredited for) would not have been the same—or wouldn't have even existed—without her!

[faghubby]

Fishing trip

I was looking forward to this trip for months. The four of us had rented this cabin. Well not sure you can call it a cabin. Four bedroom two floor, huge porch, balcony over looking a pool. Set on a hill over looking a lake. We had use of a fishing boat. And ATVs not to mention the streams and river near by. The weather was going to be perfect. I was packed and set to leave. When tragedy struck. The deal I had been working on, my huge bonus to close the deal. Went sideways I could fix this but it meant a trip to Cincinnati.

I called Walt, Pete and George and broke the news. Maybe I could meet them later in the week. After some teasing on how at least I wouldn't scare the fish they all understood and hoped to meet me there.

Phoebe , my wife of 15 years. drove me to the airport the next morning, she had already planned on me being away. Where I went didn't really matter. I was kinda complaining about missing the trip the money already spent.

"Maybe I will go so it's not a waste" Phoebe told me. She hated fishing.

"And do what?" I said knowing she was just trying to make me feel better.

"Sit by the pool, kyack, walks in the wood" she told me. As I kissed her goodbye. My flight being called.

"Go then have fun with three guys who smell like fish" I said jokingly.

"Okay I will" she told me in defiance of my joking. I didn't think about it again. Till I had already landed met with the clients lawyers and checked into my hotel. When I read a text.

"Cells are spotty at the lake, George is driving me" the text read as she showed me a pic of her loading her stuff in his SUV. I called her they where still on the road.

"Hello sweety, you're on speaker " she sang.

"You really are going fishing" I laughed.

"She promised to cook, buddy" I heard Walt say. They where driving up together. Pete was going to meet them there. After a brief conversation of their plans she took me off speaker.

"Hurry up if you can, miss you already" Pheobe told me and hung up.

I spent the next three days talking them out of walking away from the contract. And two more writing changes to a new one.

Phoebe

We arrived at the cabin after midnight. I was still wide awake from too much coffee or general curiosity. Went exploring. The guys gave me the master bedroom saying I should have the private bathroom. I went to shower and couldn't figure out how the shower worked. It was one of those showers with all kinds of different showerheads. I went to the bedroom door.

"Hey guys, can someone help me" I called out Walt appeared.

"Um I can't figure out the shower" I said fully aware I stood in front of him in nothing but a towel. Walt ever the perfect gentleman. Went to investigate. He gave me a quick explanation. But as he went to leave he paused for a brief moment. It was nothing.

"What?" I asked.

"Sorry never knew you had a tattoo" he said excusing himself.

"OH, here it goes up" I raised my towel to show him the tattoo on my thigh of a dragon and unicorn some thought they where locked in an epic battle. I thought of it as both sides of my personality. But as I did my towel slipped and exposed my breasts.

"Sorry, I should" Walt said. I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself as I grasped the towel. He took it differently. He turned and pulled me into his arms. I should of pushed him away. I wanted to.

But I looked up into his deep brown eyes, he was a very handsome man. White hair sprinkled in his beard. Contrast to his ebony bald head. His body hard from a life time of hard work. He stood alot taller then Paul. I let the towel fall. His huge hands grasped my breasts. My c cups still not big enough to fill them. He kissed me. Then stopped

"Nothing has happened yet" he told me. I jumped into his arms and he carried me to the bed. I watched as he shed his clothes. His cock. My God I had never. It jutted out from his body, Paul's always pointed up. But I think the sheer size of Walt didn't allow that. He must be twice my husband I thought. As he climbed on top of me.

"Go slow, you are so much bigger" I pleaded. Despite his strength he was gentle and carresed my body. He didn't fuck me he made love to me. I came twice. Loudly as he did. We laid there in the afterglow. I admired his tattoos.

"I love my husband" I shared.

"Paul is great. Let's just call this a fling" he told me. As he held me tight I fell asleep. I woke and took that shower finally. It was already 10am the guys where gone. I figured out early.

I put on a bikini and laid out by the pool. It was mid afternoon, when I put down my book. Romance smut I thought after reading a well description of sex. I thought about Walt. I was alone the sun warming me. My fingers slid under my suit and I was soon rubbing my clit. Suddenly I opened my eyes to see Pete standing there watching me.

"Pete, I " I turned beet red. He sat at my feet. He rubbed my feet

"Don't stop on my account" he smiled. I couldn't I mean I had fucked Walt last night. I thought back to a time in collage when I had allowed 5 guys to gang bangs me. I pulled my bottom down exposing myself and started to masterbate. I felt Pete kiss my thigh higher and higher. Soon he pulled off my bikini and was sucking my clit. I wanted him I pulled his hair pulling him on top of me. He smelled of sweat and push. As I tried to tear his clothes off of him. Pete took his time. He liked to tease me. Get me close then stop. He even worked two fingers in my ass. He offered me his cock to suck. As much as he teased me it was like a present. I sucked it down my throat, he wasnt hss big and think as Walt but still bigger then Paul. But before he came he pulled out. And slid it into my very wet cunt. It didn't take long for me to dig my nails into his back as we came together. I didn't want to let him go but we heard the ATVs co,ING back. I jumped in the pool and fixed my suit as Pete vanished into the house.

In less then 24 hours I had fucked two of my husband's friends and cum more then I had in a year. I knew Pete was married. His wife and I friends but I hadn't cared. Later that night I sought out George.

George was funny, probably Paul's best friend. I found him in the hot tub.

"I am sure Walt and Pete" I said.

"Well Pete has a big mouth" George said. I looked at him and removed my robe. I was naked as I got in the hot tub.

"You are a nasty little mink" he told me. He pulled me onto his lap.

"Have you and Cindy ever talked about" he asked me. He pinched my nipples. Cindy was his long term girlfriend. They had been together for years.

"No" I moaned. He pushed me up and bent me over the edge of the hot tub. Without warning he drove his cock balls deep into my pussy. He fucked me like a man just out of prison. He pulled out and spun me just to cum on my face. Then shoved his cock innmy mouth. As I sucked him hard again.

"I am going to take that ass" he told me. As soon as he was hard he pulled out and bent me over again.

"Please some lube" I begged. He squirted something on my ass and again drive his cock in balls deep. I was in tears as he fucked my ass. Whatever he used was no longer lubricating but he didn't slow. Petre came all over my ass. He didn't even let me rinse off instead marched me naked back into the house.

"You are the cabin slut for the weekend, I don't want to see you even wearing clothes" he told me both Pete and Walt where in the room.

Pete, George and Walt although all friends where very different. Although I abided by George' s rule of no clothes. Other then when we went into town. And then I wore a sundress, no bra or panties. I had some kind of sexual experience with each of them. Everyday. Walt gentle and kind. George forceful and dirty , while Pete was funny and playful. By Wednesday night Pete and George even split roasted me on the balcony.

Thursday I sucked Walt's huge cock. Proud I had managed to take it all before they headed to the lake. When a car pulled up.

I glanced out the window to see Paul pulling up. I rushed upstairs and jumped in the shower.

Paul

I finished up in Ohio and rushed to the lake. I would still get in a long weekend. As I entered the cabin I heard the shower, the guys must be on the lake I was right I found Phoebe in the shower. I joined her. She kissed me surprised to to see me. Fishing could wait . I took her to bed.

"Paul, I have to tell you" she stopped me. "I don't know exactly how it happened but I slept with The guys" she confessed, I was stunned.

"What? Who?" I stuttered

"All three of them. I had to tell you.i am sorry" Phoebe cried.

"At the same time" I asked but I was kissing and pawing at her. I was so turned on by her being a slut.

"Paul?" Phoebe asked as she grasped the stiffest hard on I have had since I was 15. "You're not mad" she stroked me.

"Tell me about it" I begged. She stopped me pushing me back.

"I was so worried you would leave me" she yelled at him hitting him in the chest. Then she looked me in the eye. "Walt is very big" she held her hands apart to show me. I pinned her down. I wanted her.

"Stop, if it turns you on so much I should just finish the week out ad their slut" Phoebe told me. She reached down and stoked my dick.

"Sit up" she told me. Never letting go of my now leaking penis. I came in her hand.

"Let's go down to the lake" she suggested. I got dressed. But Phoebe only wore sandels and a sheer rap. Like woman wear over thier bathing suit on the beach. We reached the dock and called the boat on the shortwave radio. They headed right in. They took one look at Phoebe. And laughed.

"You okay with your wife dressing like that Paul?"

"Yes, she looks awesome." I replied. Phoebe kissed me.

"Maybe they will let you watch later" she said and smacked my ass.

The four of us spent the day fishing. And Phoebe was the topic of the day. The three of them compared notes, and told stories about the last few days. I was rock hard the whole time. Even sharing a story of my own back when me and Phoebe had first met.

As we got back to the cabin Phoebe was cooking diner. George walked straight up and bent her over the counter. He started to play with her ass.

"George please' She begged handing him a tube of lube. He took it.

"Paul finish dinner don't let it burn" George picked Phoebe up and took her outside on the patio. I could hear them bit not see focusing on not ruining dinner.

"You are really okay with this" Walt smiled

"Yes" was all I could muster.

"Well I guess you get the couch then" Pete laughed. They treated me like a bitch after that. I was the butt of every joke or prank. Not permitted to drink to much since I wasn't man enough. I don't know if it was Phoebe or the guys but she made sure I got a good look at each one of their cocks over the next two days.

Phoebe fucked all of them at least once a day. I got even more turned on. As they teased me.

"Maybe you should ride on the back of thefour wheeler. It might be too much for you to handle" they even made me fish with Phoebe's pink pole I had bought years ago. She never used. But hadbought along for the weekend cause you never know.

Friday night. Phoebe came down stairs sat on couch where I was sleeping. I woke up. She wore her robe.

"You need to come clean, explain this all to me" She said. "You get excited when I fuck your friends, but also when they treat you like a sissy" she told me. I was rock hard and rolled to rub against her.

"Explain first" she told me.

"I don't know, I always loved it when the guys would talk about how hot you where. Made me feel like a million bucks. I had fantasies of you fucking George. I knew what he is like. Way he talks about his conquest. Plus I know I am not very big. And it's hard for you to finish with me,

"I will admit I have had more orgasms this week them in the last 5 years" she told me.

"And you let them have your ass" I moaned. We had never. I had asked her to try it once but she was unsure about it and I let it go.

"Walt took it tonight I don't think it will ever go back." She laughed stood up and showed me her still stretched asshole. I kissed it even running my tounge along the rim. This made Phoebe giggle. She spun and showed me her gapped pussy as well. I went to kiss it too. She pulled back.

"He finished in" she started I grabbed her ass and pulled her back kissing her pussy. My tounge probing the creves. I could definitely taste Walt mixed with her. Phoebe just let me continue.

"It's in there deep" Phoebe reminded me. Soon she was rocking back on forth riding my face. I made her cum she regained her composure.

"Be right back" as she got up and went upstairs. She returned a few minutes later.

"Put these on" she held a peach colored panties, with lace across the ass.

"Phoebe?!" I said surprised

"If you're going to suck men's cum out of my dirty cunt. You are going to wear the proper underwear" she told me. I got up took off my boxers as she slid them up my legs. She rubbed my never ending erection thru the soft material till I came. It didn't take long. Then went back to bed.

I was up first showered and dressed. When Phoebe came down in just her robe and made breakfast. As we ate Phoebe just crawled under the table and sucked Pete's cock. She came up. And kissed me. She hadn't swallowed Pete's load. Instead she fed it to me. Forcing me to swallow it. To laughs from the three of them.

"Last day" she handed me a flower print bikini. "Since you love to eat cum so much you should dress the part on the lake." I felt warm. I couldn't not in public. Not with my friends. Suddenly they where all insisting. I went and changed. The suit was very small barely covering my ass. And I had not tits. I wanted to protest but everyone could see my erection straining against the material.

We went out on the boat. But fishing was done. They had fished for the last 8 days. Today they made sure I got a nice tan. They went and jumped off the cliff into the lake. I wasn't allowed to try I was delicate. And although it pissed me off. It excited me also. So inplayed the part of the unimpressed girl watching them be jerks. But at noon they headed back to the cabin. We surprised Phoebe. They sat me down and I watched as they all fucked her. In every hole. She was covered in there sperm by the time they finished.

"Go clean your slut up" they told me. Phoebe was exhausted and falling asleep as I started to lick and slurp up 6 or was it 7 loads of cum off of her. The guys left us alone. But I didn't want to stop. Phoebe even fell asleep until I sucked two loads out of her cunt

"Sissy, don't forget my ass" is all phoebe said rolling over to give me better access. I let Phoebe sleep. The guys left rather then spend another night. I spent the rest of the day in Phoebe's bikini. When Pheobe woke she gave me another handjob.

"Paul, I am going to at least counting to see Pete. Since he is technically the only one single. And I will have to find some more since I know now you are a total cum fag" Phoebe told me. We left in the morning.on the long drive home. Phoebe made me make a detour to an adult store. Where she made me pick out a strapon along with other toys. After a brief breakdown where I admitted I wanted it. She also had me change right in the parking lot. Into a pair of her panties. She let me choose. Since she hadn't worn any all week.

All I could think about was when was the next fishing trip?

[exactlymaximumgarden]

what i did for love (jschlatt x reader fic)

chapter 2: new guy

summary: after endless chatter about the so-called "new guy," you finally have a less than ideal run-in with him. word count: ≈2.0k warnings: fem!reader, use of (y/n), kinda angsty later on a/n: hi chat. this chapter is kinda tea so i hope you like it lol song: again and again - the bird and the bee

You never thought you’d be more grateful for a lunch break in your life. The cast had been dismissed for an hour just after running the emotional monologue from the character Paul, which promptly followed your solo dance number. Teching your routine wasn’t too much of a hassle, but the actual choreography was beyond grueling. You were more than ready for a breather.

Surprisingly, Schlatt, during the run, wasn’t a bother at all. You could’ve sworn you caught him glancing at you from the wings at certain points, and you couldn’t say for sure whether or not he had seen any of your solo at all, but during the monologue afterward in which everyone in the cast was offstage save for your castmate Mateo, Schlatt was nowhere to be found. 

Not that you had a problem with that, anyway. Hell, you didn’t care what all he fucked off to do as long as you didn’t have to be there for any of it.

Now, you could only do your best to rid your mind of all thoughts related to him as you sat in your dressing room, which you shared with Victoria and two other castmates, Sierra and Lola. Aside from your already established bond with Victoria, you’d taken it upon yourself to build a closer friendship with Sierra and Lola since they played the characters Maggie and Bebe respectively, so naturally you would have to stand near them in the chorus line formation. That was also partially the reason the four of you had been grouped together to share a dressing room, so it was only beneficial for you to have a good rep with both.

The four of you were plopped in a circle on the dressing room floor, accompanied by your other castmates Ari, Mateo, and Dante. All seven of you picked at your lunches, more interested in the conversation at hand than actually eating. However, the topic quickly shifted to the oh so mysterious new guy, and as much as you wanted to shut your brain off than have to listen to speculations about Schlatt, you were also insanely hungry. So, you simply forced yourself to sit there and listen.

That was just like Schlatt, you couldn’t help but think sourly. Always the center of attention, even when he wasn’t in the room.

“Has anyone actually gotten a chance to talk to him yet?” Lola asked, her amber eyes twinkling with curiosity as she scanned the group. 

“I accidentally bumped into him after we teched my scene,” Mateo piped up. “He was pretty nice. Apologized to me and all. Even though it was totally my fault.”

“Can I say he’s kinda hot?” Sierra was next to chime in, her silvery voice quickly filling the silence. A quiet laugh promptly rippled through the group, although it took a bit of willpower on your behalf to keep your own from sounding too forced. “Like, respectfully? I’d smash.”

“You’d smash anything that breathes.” Ari, seated behind her on the dressing room counter, nudged her teasingly with his leg.

“Hey, can you blame me? I’ve tried every dating app there is. I’m debating whipping out the last resort any day now.”

“eHarmony?”

“No. Becoming a nun.”

“Okay, but do we know why they brought in someone new so late in the process?” Victoria interrupts. “What happened to the old stagehand? What’s-his-face?”

“Who cares what his name was? He got fired, and good thing.” This heated answer was spat from Dante, who had been cast in the show as the lively tap-dancer Mike. His heavy Brooklyn accent was interwoven through every syllable as he continued, “He was a fuckin’ idiot, not to mention a total dick. Always actin’ like he knew everything, being a shit to Vanja and all. I’m surprised she didn’t kick his ass out sooner. But I heard they put out an open call for someone to fill in for ‘im. Anyone with at least basic knowledge of allat computery shit. I guess that’s how they roped the new guy in. Shat, or whatever he’s called.”

Of course. He made perfect sense for the job. He’d wanted to go into computer science before he’d gone down the rabbit hole of his own career. “Schlatt.” You couldn’t keep the correction from spilling from your lips. You weren’t all too thrilled to discover the way his name still tasted like acid on your tongue.

“Yeah. That.”

“Well, at least he seems nice.” Victoria shrugged. “Upgrade from the last dude.”

“Nice and sexy!” Sierra giggled, earning another nudge from Ari.

Despite yourself, you opened your mouth. You had the insatiable urge to say something, maybe a cryptic, biting remark directed towards Schlatt. Something about how nobody here knew what he was really like, how he was the furthest thing from nice, how he’d ruined everything. However, you were promptly interrupted by a knock on the dressing room door.

“Hello?” Lola called out, craning her neck to snag a better view of the visitor.

The door creaked open, and Lacey poked her head in. Lacey was a petite, curvy girl, her hair tied up in pigtails and extravagant eyeshadow powdered against her lids. She’d been cast as Val, so she figured going over the top in her stage look would fit the character. Nobody had the heart to tell her she looked clownish.

“Just wanted to tell you guys we have five minutes until we’re back,” she explained in her typical squeaky tone, a toothy grin spreading across her lips. “Vanja’s giving us a bit of extra time to get settled, though. She just finished introducing herself to Jay.”

For whatever reason, Lacey first-naming Schlatt created a strange feeling in the pit of your stomach. Nobody ever did that. Not in his circle, anyway. But you couldn’t necessarily fault her for that. She didn’t come from his circle. That was a you problem.

“Thanks, Lacey.” You quickly hopped to your feet, stashing what was left of your lunch back with your belongings. “I’m gonna go to the restroom real quick. Will someone let Vanja know in case I’m not back in time?”

“I got it,” Victoria instantly volunteered, to which you shot her a grateful smile.

“Go piss, girl!” Ari murmured, resulting in a collective snort among the group. He elicited a grin from you, too, but you’re already out the door by the time you clocked it.

___

Wandering through the twisting hallways of the backstage area reminded you of yet another thing you’d never get used to regardless of how long you’d been performing. It never seemed to fully register that the older the theatre, the more historic the building, the dingier the backstage was. And right now, you might as well have been traversing a maze.

All this for a piss.

You couldn’t tell how long it took you to actually locate the bathrooms within the labyrinthine hallways, and you could only imagine that, with your luck, it’d be even longer before you found your way back to the stage. And of course that proved to be true. Before you knew it, you were lost. It wasn’t your fault, you kept telling yourself. This is why you exclusively used the restrooms out in the theatre’s foyer. At least those were easy to find.

“Whoa!”

You were instantly snapped out of your daze as you collided with someone’s larger frame. You stumbled backward from the impact, but whoever you ran into quickly clamped their hands around your biceps to keep you from completely falling on your ass.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry, I-” Your vision refocused, your voice instantly trailing off as you gazed upward at the person before you. Schlatt’s eyes bore into yours, hints of both concern and amusement evident in his gaze. Suddenly, the grip on your arms turned from something relieving to much more revolting.

The corners of his lips tilted upward in the faintest of smiles as he let go of you, stepping back. You could feel his gaze raking over you, taking you in. “Hey, stranger,” he greeted, leaning against the wall beside him.

You wanted to walk away, turn your back on him this instant. But you couldn’t. You felt paralyzed. Rooted to the spot.

“Hi,” you muttered in return.

“How’s it goin’? Been a while, huh?”

“Yep.” No shit, it’s been a while. I never wanted to see you again. “I’ve been fine. Been busy with the show and all.”

“I can imagine. Seems like a lotta work already.”

“It’s Broadway. Of course it is.” Your tone came out a bit more biting than intended. Schlatt quickly seemed to catch on, his brow quirking up in a slight smirk.

“You’re right. Stupid thing of me to say.” He held up his hands in mock surrender. You huffed out a scoff, but it was clearly forced. “Well, uh, hey,” Schlatt tried once more after an awkward silence ensued. “I saw you dance a little bit. From the wings. You did… good.”

“Good, huh?” You folded your arms across your chest, a bit exasperated with how the conversation was going nowhere.

“Yeah. You did good,” he repeated, his eyes still glued to you. It was growing increasingly hard not to shudder under his stare, feeling like prey beneath him. Your stomach churned, and you could practically hear your heart’s frenzied beating within your eardrum. For a moment, he fell quiet once more, and you swore you saw his expression falter. Whatever air of confidence was there before seemed to melt, devolving into something softer, something unreadable… disappointment, maybe? Regret? “You look good, (Y/N).”

It felt like the world stopped at that. You had to fight every fiber within you that wanted to bark out an incredulous laugh. “Really?” you instead asked, bewilderment of his utter audacity clear in your voice. “Is this a joke?”

Schlatt instantly straightened, no longer leaning on the wall. An air of defensiveness flickered over him. “What? Can I not say you look good?”

“Are you actually asking me that?” It shouldn’t have been so easy for him to rile you up, get under your skin.

Schlatt’s lips flattened into a straight line as he heaved a heavy sigh. “(Y/N), come on. Listen, I know these aren’t ideal conditions, but-”

“Like hell they aren’t!” You ran a hand through your hair, feeling like you might as well have been on the brink of tearing every single strand out. “Just stop. Not now. Don’t do this to me.”

“Why not now? Look, we gotta talk at some point.”

“There isn’t anything to talk about. You made things very clear when you decided you were done with me,” you spat. Schlatt opened his mouth to protest, but you quickly interrupted. “Can you please just do me a solid and point me back to the stage? I’ve got more important things to focus on right now than this.”

He stopped dead in his tracks. His usually soft expression was icy, and it was evident by the way his eyes flitted all across your face that he was seriously debating what to do next. However, to your relief, he jerked his head over his shoulder. “Straight ahead behind me. Take a left, up the stairs, take a right. You'll find your way.”

You didn’t wait to say anything more. No sooner did the words escape his lips than you practically bolted past him, reciting the directives he’d given you over and over to occupy your mind. To anyone else in the cast, your exchange with Schlatt would have seemed entirely random. Up until this moment, you two hadn’t interacted once. How could it have bubbled up to this so quickly?

That was something only you and Schlatt knew. The history between you two. And yet, knowing that history like the back of each other’s hands, he still wanted to act like things were normal. He still wanted to try and pass off as if nothing happened. As if everything was fine. Tearing your heart and stomping on it, over and over and over again.

Furiously wiping your eyes as your feet pattered up the staircase he’d guided you to, you couldn’t help but ponder. He was so clearly over everything. Over it enough to feel confident enough to act all casual, anyway.

So why the hell couldn’t you be?

prev chapter, next chapter

[batboyblog]

Do you think there is any benefit to the idea that Biden should just not bother with these TV debates anymore? With how the media is so strongly stacked against him, that it might be more beneficial to focus on things where he excels at like town halls and meeting people in person?

I think he agreed to do it, so backing out would look worse and be more damaging than any benefits from sticking to events that play to his strengths. Indeed the media attacked him pretty heavily for being over choreographed in events and interviews (sounds like Hillary being "over prepared") I do think Biden should, and if you look at the last few weeks he has, do more events with the people, and if he can wrangle a televised town hall that'd be great.

but on debate, we shouldn't think Biden is some historically bad debater. In 2012 Obama BOMBED his first debate with Romney, people were writing the death notices for his re-election (much closer to E-Day then July!) and it was Biden who swung into action at the Vice-Presidential debate, laughing in Paul Ryan's face and mocking him easily showing Ryan up as unlikeable and trying to destroy social security. Biden is good at being the every man reacting to "Malarkey!"

I think what went wrong in the first debate is two fold. First of all when you're President and you care to do the job, there's never ever gonna be enough time, there will always be one more call, one more meeting, one more thing that needs your attention. Biden mentioned aids adding things to the schedule. If you're a President like Biden who is good at the job and likes it, I can see how it becomes hard to say "no" because we're talking huge things. So Biden had been working too much, too hard, for too long. That week he went to Europe, did the G7 meetings lots of meetings lots of work, flew back to the US to California to do a fundraiser with Obama and George Clooney, flew back to Atlanta to do the debate. Along the way the guy gets a cold, so what we all saw was a guy who was tired from months of working too hard, jet-lagged, and sick. Trump did nothing that week, he golfed and hung out with friends showed up rested and not having a head cold.

The other thing is the prepped for the wrong debate. One team Biden pushed for rules that ultimately helped Trump. The rule of mics being off when the other is speaking, people hate when Trump interrupts, he's at his worse when he does that, you made sure he couldn't do that. Second no crowd, all politicians feed off crowds, read their energy. crowds cause Trump to lean into his worst instincts always reaching for the next big reaction, but also Biden feeds off people's reactions, in a way that is much better for him than it is for Trump.

outside the rules, clearly Biden and his team gamed out the debate assuming the moderators would do the heavy lifting of fact checking Trump and calling him on his lies and Biden's job was to look like the smart normal politician and spit out facts and figures. As a life long stutterer being able to recall and recite exact numbers and data points in just the way they were written down is not and never been a strength of Biden's, he's NOT dumb, but I can say you carry the baggage of people thinking you're an idiot from when you were a disabled kid your whole life, and I've read a lot of stories that some times in a room full of Harvard and Yale people he can get rattled. And I think that happened they pushed him to try to memorize their talking points their data sets and he got in his head. And when the debate turned out to not at all be what he planned for, when the moderators showed no interest in pushing back on Trump, Biden was caught off guard, a not sick, not jet-lagged, not tired Biden would have turned it around more quickly. We saw later in the debate Biden figure out what debate he was in and how to act and start to ditch trying to remember data sets and just throw out quips and lines "morals of an ally cat!", had he been feeling better, he'd have gotten there much faster.

So I think if Biden takes better care of himself, is strict about not adding more to his work load, takes time off to relax and rest before a debate (work on his tan like JFK did before the Nixon Kennedy debate) and also focuses on being himself, he's not Obama or Bill Clinton who are great masters of explaining complex issues with facts and figures that makes you feel like you're in school with a favorite teacher. That's not Joe, he knows the stuff, he does, but his skill his being everyone's favorite uncle telling it like it is, let him do that and he'll be fine.

[menlove]

What do you think actually happened between John and Paul that caused John to become so bitter and vindictive towards Paul? If I remember correctly, the prevailing theory of John being rejected by Paul was actually conceived to retroactively 'explain ' John's behavior because otherwise it seems inexplicable why he would turn on so completely on the person who had been arguably his closest friend, if not lover. However, it's evident from Paul's lyrics and interview to Hunter Davies that he is entirely confused and hurt by John's behavior. Like he even complains everyone always looks to him for blame but nobody sees how much he was hurt by John. I'm not trying to take any sides here of course, both John and Paul had their faults and issues which complicated their relationship but genuinely curious to hear what your theory is.

honestly? bpd. like I barely even think of it as a theory, although ofc it is, bc sooooo many people agree that john could have Easily been diagnosed w bpd

like there's a thing called splitting w bpd where you just. like on a Dime you can't stand someone. and this can be very brief (I've split on people and it lasted like an hour) or permanent but it's very common. like you go every quickly from idealization to demonization of a person. or complete apathy (which is my personal kryptonite rip)

not only that but there's quite a few paul quotes where he talks about the fact that john started "slagging him off" as a way to distance himself from paul/the beatles and sort of "prove" to yoko that he was entirely devoted to her. which also makes sense to me as a bpd cunt bc I've unfortunately done that too 😭 and it's not necessarily an act either, it's just like.......... your brain can't make room for the way you feel for a New Person and an Old Person so you start analyzing everything that Old Person did and finding every flaw and magnifying it and blowing it up until you start feeling bitter or angry and suddenly in your mind someone that was once your world is like. some kind of villain out of a storybook.

and this is very very difficult to deal with and he wasn't really........ getting any help or outside people telling him that his view of paul/the beatles was being distorted. yoko was also pretty paranoid & from several sources encouraged his bitterness/paranoia (which isn't a dunk on her- I'm just a firm believer that she was a Complicated Person and villifying OR deifying is just weird and racist). not to Mention the scream therapy stuff, where I'm Pretty sure he himself has even said he was encouraged to pick apart his life and relationships and find Issues.

so you've got someone whose brain is already a goddamn game of mouse trap telling him that if he's not w paul/the beatles anymore he Has to hate him, surrounded by people encouraging that line of thought, and hounded by media asking him about it and pitting him against paul

and with that in mind, I do think it was also a bit exaggerated by the media. it was definitely encouraged, that's for sure. but even if john didn't Hate Paul, that's how it would be portrayed bc it made a more dramatic and interesting story. they'd ask him (and paul) leading questions to get the most material.

I honestly don't find it inexplicable that he'd turn on him without a "reason" so maybe my own mouse trap of a brain is part of why I disagree so much w that dominant narrative of rejection to explain it 😭 bc for me and many other bpd cunts I know it's just. it could Literally be nothing. often it's just a SENSE of rejection that will cause a split. and I'm willing to bet that their growing distance, paul pushing the band harder to work after brian died, paul not really accepting yoko and johnandyoko, the possible dying out of a sexual aspect of their relationship, paul proposing to jane & later getting with/marrying linda, paul Accepting john's ask for a divorce, paul going out and making an album on his own....... well. it's a perfect storm for my fellow bpd bitch to go "well fuck him I never loved him that guy fucking sucks and whatever he does doesn't hurt me anyway bc I don't care At All he's just the absolute worst and I can't stand him"

which of course had to be whiplash for paul. from his pov it was genuinely out of nowhere. but I will say all his comments about it and john needing to put him/the beatles aside for yoko and just..... all his quotes around john's mental health seem to be very VERY aware of all this. he knew john better than anyone & his main confusion seems to be around whether or not john ever actually loved or even liked him. which is an understandable emotional reaction. I think, though, he does show a deep understanding of john when he talks about all of this which makes me soooo :(

[ghostflowerdreams]

Audio Drama Recommendations, Pt. III

Click here for part one and here for part two. Recently, I've been drawing a lot, which gives me plenty of time to listen to audio dramas and podcasts. These are the ones I liked the most and found entertaining enough to recommend to others. This is not in any particular order, either.

The Green Horizon – is a sci-fi comedy drama created and written by Paul Walsh. It is sponsored by Faustian Nonsense, an indie entertainment network. It currently has three seasons, with each episode being about 20 - 30 minutes long, but later on it increases to 30 - 40 minutes. A fourth season is said to be coming out soon as well.

It is set in the year 2261, and it focuses on a ne'er-do-well Irish space captain and his rag-tag crew, as they traverse a war-torn Galaxy in search of fame and fortune. [ONGOING]

It was a little chaotic and rough at the beginning, but it does smooth out and become more polished. I can definitely tell that they up their game with the improved sound effects and production quality. The voice actors and the writing for the audio drama does an excellent job at bringing their characters to life, which made it very fun to follow along.

If you like Firefly, Red Dwarf, Orville, Cowboy Bepop, and so on then I think you may enjoy this too.

DERELICT – is a sci-fi narrative audio drama from award-winning science fiction author J. Barton Mitchell, and produced by Night Rocket Productions. It currently has one season titled FATHOM, which consist of 10 episodes with each one ranging from 40 mins to an hour, mostly the latter.

Something has been found at the bottom of Earth's ocean. An ancient artifact that can only be described as a giant door, inset into the sea floor. It becomes known as the Vault. A gigantic enigma, buried and forgotten...nineteen thousand feet down.

To study the artifact, the galaxy's most powerful corporation, Maas-Dorian, has built a massive, self-contained, secret laboratory base surrounding it, named FATHOM. It's objective: unlock the secrets of the artifact and discover what it holds.​ But some mysteries should remain buried. And some doors should never be opened... [ONGOING]

DERELICT started as the first project set up as a kickstarter. They produced one episode to entice backers, but then the pandemic happened, and they didn’t raise enough money for the rest of it. Instead, they worked on a prequel season called FATHOM. It's where the story really starts, and I highly suggest you listen to it before listening to "DERELICT E1 - Through the Gate."

I hope they redo the DERELICT's first episode because there's a bit of disconnection from it and FATHOM. For example, Sarah and Agent Blayne already know each other. She mentions it to the others, but the conversation they have with each other doesn’t make it seem that way.

Never mind. I apparently confused this Sarah with the Sarah in FATHOM. Can't blame me for thinking that when I heard the name Sarah and that she was already familiar with Agent Blayne.

Deviser – is a sci-fi horror audio drama created, directed, acted and produced by Harlan Guthrie. The same creator of Malevolent. It's a 7-part limited series, with each episode being about 20 mins long.

Son wakes up aboard a spaceship bound for earth in an effort to recolonize. What he discovers, however, will change everything he knows about his world and himself. [COMPLETED]

It's not for everyone, so please do not ignore the content warnings because there's graphic description of violence, self harm, body horror, gore, animal death/being hurt, and what not.

Victoriocity – is a detective comedy audio drama written by Chris and Jen Sugden, directed by Nathan Peter Grassi and produced by Dominic Hargreaves. It is an entirely independent production. It has two seasons, containing 13 episodes in total, and each one is about 30 to 45 minutes long. There's also a feature-length special and a up-coming third season with the help of a kickstarter.

It is 1887 in Even Greater London, an alternate steampunk Victorian London, where Queen Victoria reigns even after being assassinated eleven times, thanks to the wonders of modern science.

In this vast metropolis, Inspector Archibald Fleet and journalist Clara Entwhistle investigate a murder, only to find themselves at the centre of a conspiracy of impossible proportions. [ONGOING]

It's put together so well, and I see why people say it gives off strong Douglas Adams and Terry Pratchett vibes to it. So if you like their works, then I wouldn't be surprised to hear that you like this too.

Impact Winter – is an apocalyptic vampire audio drama created and written by Travis Beacham (Carnival Row, Pacific Rim). It has two seasons containing 22 episodes in total and each one is about 17 to 30 minutes long.

“They came after the impact and the firestorms. When the sun went dark. Like they’d been there all along. Just waiting.”

In the British countryside, a band of survivors forms a resistance in the fallout shelter of a medieval castle. Darcy is a battle-tested vampire hunter who is at the front line, leading the charge to save humanity. Meanwhile, her younger sister Hope wants life to return to normal so she can go above ground and know what it’s like to live again. And she just might be willing to risk it all. [ONGOING]

It has a stacked cast led by Holliday Grainger (Cinderella, Great Expectations), Esme Creed-Miles (Hanna, The Legend of Vox Machina), Liam Cunningham (Games of Thrones, Hunger), Himesh Patel (Station Eleven, Tenet), David Gyasi (Interstellar, Carnival Row), Caroline Ford (Carnival Row, Nekrotronic), Chloe Pirrie (Emma, Carnival Row), and Bella Ramsey (Games of Thrones, The Last of Us).

This reminded me a lot of the film 30 Days of Nights (2007) with a little bit of Reign of Fire (2002), which were both fun films to watch. I think if you like those two, especially the former, you'll enjoy this or at least be entertained by it.

A Voice From Darkness – is a scripted paranormal horror audio drama. It is written and produced by Jac Rhys. It currently has two seasons, containing 20 episodes in total and each one is about 20 to 30 minutes long. It also has 7 bonus voicemail episodes and 15 Patreon exclusive episodes which are longer than the main episodes. A third season in the works as well.

Join parapsychologist and radio broadcaster Dr. Malcolm Ryder as he helps those who suffer the supernatural, paranormal or otherworldly problems on his call-in radio show. It is also interspersed with segments, one of which is called 'Today In Odd America' that delves into the origins of a holiday, local traditions, and history. [ONGOING]

If you like Welcome To Night Vale then I think you'll like this too. A Voice From Darkness is a bit more serious and not as long-drawn as Night Vale was, with a perfect mix of storytelling and lore. It also reminds me a bit of The Magnus Archive too.

How i Died – is a mystery audio drama that brings a "new twist on the true crime genre." It is an Audiohm Media original production, co-starring Vince Dajani as Jon Spacer and Shaina Waring as Sheriff Fran Crowley. It currently has three seasons with 39 episodes in total, not including bonus episodes. Each episode is usually about 20 mins, give or take a few minutes.

Bodies are piling up in the strange town of Springfield, and forensic pathologist Jonathan Spacer intends to find out why. But, Jon isn’t without his own secrets… He can talk to the dead, for starters. [ONGOING]

Ooo, a character that can speak to the dead? It's always so interesting to see what they'll do with their ability and where the creators take them. This has been entertaining, but at times I do think they can do better in developing their characters a bit more. For example, I can count on one hand the number of times Crowley doesn't get angry. Though to be fair, Jon isn't an immediately likable character, but that does change the further you go...sorta.

The Amelia Project – is a comedy fiction audio drama created, written, directed, produced and edited by Philip Thorne and Øystein Ulsberg Brager for Imploding Fictions and The Fable and Folly Network. It currently has four seasons, with a fifth one on the way. There's about 72 episodes, not including prologue, special, and BTS episodes which would up the total to 122. Each episode also varies in length from 20 to 45 minutes long.

The Amelia Project is a secret agency that fakes its clients' deaths, then lets them reappear with a brand-new identity. A black comedy full of secrets, twists... and cocoa. The series starts as a succession of interviews with clients who want to fake their deaths, then slowly a larger narrative begins to emerge... Each episode tells its own story, but we recommend starting with Season 1. [ONGOING]

It was fun to listen to while I was drawing or washing the dishes. I could also follow along without becoming too distracted by it, either. I was worried it would be one of those that take a while to get to the main overall story, but thankfully it did not. It will definitely keep you entertained and interested to know what will happen next.

Community Cat News – is a neighborhood news show done from the perspective of cats. There's currently 13 episodes so far and each one varies from 5 to 12 minutes long.

Local News: The human is opening the fridge! Will we get a taste?

Foreign Affairs: What are those squirrels up to now?

Traffic: WHY is the bathroom door shut again?

Every episode is sponsored by Meow Meow Puffytail, Feline Rights Attorney, who is ready to sue your human for even the slightest inconvenience. [ONGONG]

It's cute, light-hearted, and funny. I didn't expect to enjoy this as much as I did. It even uplifted my mood without me realizing I was feeling low.

[wastingawayinmyroom]

"Nico?"

He almost cleaved the poor boy in two. The whole situation reminded him of the time he disturbed an older boy in the Lotus Casino, one who was so focused on his video game that, in surprise, hit Nico with the controller. He had thought Bianca would be mad at him, but the only one she lashed out at was that teenager.

He felt a pang of sadness at the thought of her. Not now, he thought. Not right after Will.

"Gods, Harley," he said, pulling him into a hug and ruffling his hair affectionately. "Don't sneak up on me like that. You'll end up like one of the practice dummies in the arena."

Harley giggled. Nico couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed like that.

"Why aren't you smiling?" He asked. Nico realized he'd been staring off into the distance like he was waiting for someone. "Didn't feel like it."

It was Harley's turn to make a face. "You can't not feel like smiling. That's not possible." He squirmed out of Nico's arms. "Something happened, right? So tell me."

His brain went through a thousand responses, from denial to avoiding the question to shadow traveling to Italy to start a new life. "It's..."

William Andrew Solace broke up with him. The person he went to literal Tartarus with, the one who knew all his secrets, the one... the one.

His one and only.

His mouth settled on an answer. "It's complicated."

...

An hour later, after skirting the topic of blonde hair and freckles and sun-kissed skin, he was at the door to Sally Jackson's apartment.

"Oh, Nico!" She said when the door opened. "I haven't seen you in so long! Come in!"

He smiled, just so she wouldn’t he worried. “Thanks, ma'am. Is Percy around? I just wanted to talk.”

Her face brightened even more at the mention of her son. “He’s out running some errands, but he should be back in a couple minutes. In the meantime, how about you try…”

He felt bad for zoning out, but he couldn’t focus the moment he saw the framed pictures of Percy on the table. There was one on his graduation day, one with a car (Paul’s Prius, he assumed), and one with the two of them. Percy and Nico.

Percy would never think of him the way Nico thought of Percy. To Percy, Nico was just a little brother, someone to look out for and eat ice cream with.

To Nico? There weren’t words to describe it. He didn’t need words, anyway, since it was completely hopeless.

Besides, he’d only been without Will for a month and a half. Maybe this was just him longing for someone to hold, someone to know, or maybe just someone.

The door flew open, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the apartment.

“Nico!” Percy said, uneven smile on his face. “Dude, I haven’t seen you in forever! What’s up?”

He smiled, for real this time. “Nothing much. You?”

…

Three hours after that, after some talking and crying and wondering where things went wrong, they were at the beach. Specifically, the one at Camp Half-Blood.

He'd never really been a fan of beaches, since he couldn't swim, and sitting by the water wasn't any fun. He'd rather teach a bunch of little kids sword fighting than sit still for more than a couple minutes. But Percy promised that he'd show Nico some new surfing moves, and when Percy asked something, Nico could never say no.

So there he was, sitting under an umbrella on a checkered blanket, watching the son of Poseidon ride the waves like it was nobody's business.

Percy was only wearing blue swim trunks and his necklace. Nico couldn't even recall a time where Percy hadn't been wearing some sort of blue, no matter how small. Nico also couldn't explain why he loved it so much.

It was the little things about Percy that made Nico so fond of him. The Camp Half-Blood necklace, the obsession with all things blue, that uneven, troublemaker’s smile… gods, what was he thinking? Loving Perseus Jackson was a mistake. He’d already learned that, hadn’t he?

“Nico? Are you ok?”

He turned to find himself staring right at Percy’s abs.

“Yeah.” He could feel his face getting hot. Gods, he was such an idiot. Especially when it came to Jackson.

Percy chuckled. “You’ve literally been in the shade this entire time, and you’ve still got a sunburn.”

Nico touched his face. A sunburn? “Must be all that time in the Underworld.”

Percy laughed, and Nico committed the sound to memory. “Seriously, man, you need to wear sunscreen. You look like a tomato.”

“Hey!” Nico flicked his arm playfully, and they both collapsed into a pile of giggles.

…

Six years later, they were in New Rome, walking and talking and reminiscing in some garden Nico couldn’t remember the name of.

Six years after Percy saw Nico’s blush and thought it was a sunburn, he proposed to Nico.

And a year after that, the same story was told at the wedding.

…

@neo-kid-funk ITS DONE!!!!!!!!

[midnight-pluto]

First time trying out an event

Fandom: PJO/HOO

Trope: Comfort/Hurt, Angst

AU: Riordanverse

Style: One-shot

How about a Percy Jackson x mortal gn!reader who can see through the mist where Percy hears about a prophecy of how he must lose (death or just leave him) his s/o for a quest, and in trying to find ways on how to stop it, ends up not giving reader any attention or care that they break up and possibly die or just leave.

(sorry if it's too confusing, you can change parts of it to your writing style)

NO ESCAPE — percy j.

TROPES: fluff, angst, comfort/hurt

UNIVERSE: canon-ish

PAIRING(S): percy jackson x gn!reader

WARNING(S): set place after pjo and before hoo, talks of trauma and PTSD and death

A/N: it’s been a while since I’ve written for the pjo fandom so I hope I did ur idea justice

“NO,” PERCY DEADPANS, looking Rachel. “I refuse to believe that this prophecy is about me and Y/N. Absolutely not, the gods have fucked up my life enough - I am not allowing it to happen, again.”

“Percy my prophecy’s haven’t failed to be true,” Rachel replies, feeling remorse for the boy in front of her.

“No, see, remember? Remember the prophecy where you thought it was me who was the hero but it was actually,” Percy swallowed hard to mention his former friend, “Luke.

“Maybe it’ll happen but it still doesn’t mean it applies to me and Y/N.”

“Percy the fates are inescapable. You can’t cheat them, you can’t trick them, you can’t escape them,” Rachel sternly tell before speaking a tired and small, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s well- not okay, but it’s not your fault,” he sighed, burying his head in his hands. “I better find Y/N soon,” he muttered, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking out of the cave.

It was supposed to be just a fun, small, 3-day trip to camp due to it being spring break for him. But that turned out to be just another time where he was forced into serving the gods with zero thanks.

By the time Percy was informed of his fate, he didn’t have enough time to cope during his trip and was picked up by his mom, Paul, and you later that day.

“Percy! How was camp?” you smiled at the boy walking towards the three of you, running up to him and giving him a hug.

“It was alright,” he said blankly, continuing his walk to the car.

That made you pause - and not just because of the blank remark.

But because he didn’t hug you back.

You shot a worried look towards his parents automatically knowing something was off.

Paul was driving while Sally was sat in front so it was just you and Percy sitting in the back together. Normally, the car would be full of chatter with Percy rambling about whatever happened at camp while he was there while holding your hand.

This time though, there was no chatter, and there was no holding hands.

“So did anything exciting happen at camp?” Paul tried to break the stiffening silence, “Want to get to ice cream?”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Percy replied, eyes fixated out the window seemingly lost in thought.

To you it seemed that while you weren’t sharing loving touches with each other, you both still seemed to be sharing troubled thoughts and minds plagued with worry.

He wasn’t possessed - you’d know - and he was still himself; but not. What could’ve happened in the past three days that could’ve caused him to act like this?

You knew his dreams were ridden with trauma and flashbacks and sometimes a horrid future awaiting but he’d normally speak to you about such things. You could only hope if it were such a case he’d talk to you about it soon.

IT SEEMED THAT soon couldn’t come soon enough. Spring break had already passed, and it’s been a near month and Percy has barely spoken to you throughout it at all.

Percy on the other hand felt at his absolute worst.

Well, that was of course an exaggeration but knowing the fate of the relationship you have is still really terrible.

It wasn’t his intention to distance himself from you, it’s just something he did subconsciously - a desperate attempt to preserve what was already made.

“Percy?” his mother knocked on his door, “I brought you cookies.”

“Thanks, uh, can I talk to you about something?” Percy asked, taking the plate of cookies and placing them on his bedside.

“Yes of course you can,” Sally smiled, and shut the door to sit on the edge of his bed.

“When- when I was at camp I of course had the fortune of being part of a prophecy… again,” Percy inhaled a sharp breath, “And it was about me and Y/N and- Rachel said that I was gonna lose them and I just- I don’t want that.”

“Oh Percy,” she frowned pulling her son into a hug, rubbing his back softly as his tears spilled onto her shirt.

“And I don’t want them to die- they don’t deserve that, not because of me,“ he muttered.

“Percy, listen to me,” Sally gently pushed him away to look at him in his eyes, using her sleeves to wipe away his tears, “What matters isn’t in the future, but now. Regardless if you’re going to lose Y/N, make the best memories to look back on when they’re gone. That’s the meaning of life - to cherish it, and the limited time you have here with everyone you’ve ever met.”

Percy nodded at his mother words, smiling to himself at the thought of spending more time with you. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” she softly tussled his hair, “Now I’m going to set something up between the two of you to go hang out tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles, wiping away his own tears.

“Make sure to eat those cookies,” Sally reminded before shutting his door with a soft click.

YOU TOOK IN a deep inhale before angering the small café Sally had arranged you and Percy to meet. Prepared to face him with a look of defeat on his face you open the doors, and see him sitting in the back with a cup of hot chocolate warming his hands.

But he didn’t look sad like all the other times you tried to talk to him, he didn’t look dismissive, he looked like himself. He looked like Percy.

Seeing the face you had come to love the past year return didn’t make your heart flutter as it used to however. One of the only reminders of your true intentions behind accepting the invitation.

Walking over to the table, you take the seat across him and give him a small smile that you could muster.

“You’re not gonna order anything?” Percy asked, head tilted towards the chalkboard’s beautifully written on displaying the menu.

“No, I don’t feel like it,” you shook your head, “Um, Percy I just wanted to talk to you and I’m sorry.”

Percy could feel his heart drop the moment you said those words. His head kept on making up words and phrases of what you were going to say next - anything but what he knew you were going to say.

“I just don’t think we’re going to work out,” you spoke in a soft and gentle tone, “I don’t regret the time spent with you, but it would be better if we no longer saw each other. Romantically, at least.”

It took every once ounce of Percy’s body to spill out tears from the corners of his eyes but he managed to choke out, “I understand.”

“Thank you, for everything Percy,” you hung your head low, beating yourself up for hurting the boy in front of you who had already been through so much, “I hope to see you around.”

And just like that, you exit the café as Percy’s eyes trail your figure from the window until you disappeared around the block. It doesn’t take long for the nearest fire hydrant to burst open, water spewing out when his eyes couldn’t.

A/N: did I manage to make you guys feel something? also, my 200 follower event is currently ongoing so please feel free to request!!

[novelmonger]

Some highlights from the Director/Writer Commentary of The Return of the King with Peter Jackson, Philippa Boyens, and Fran Walsh:

As they mentioned in TTT, they were originally going to put the Smeagol vs. Deagol fight as a flashback during the Dead Marshes. Before they decided to use it to open RotK, their placeholder idea for a scene to open RotK was to do a sped-up helicopter shot from the Paths of the Dead, across the plains of Edoras, to the Golden Hall where Aragorn wakes up from a nightmare (and then goes and talks to Eowyn). Very glad they went the direction they did!

In the final shot they used when Smeagol takes the Ring out of Deagol's hand, the actor playing Deagol actually blinked, but they liked Andy Serkis' performance so much, they had Weta go in and freeze Deagol's eyes so they could use the shot XD

You know, I forget sometimes that they didn't even have Saruman in the theatrical cut at all. Boggles the mind.

In the scene where Aragorn comes out of the Golden Hall and goes to stand next to Legolas, who's looking out at the night...Viggo and Orlando weren't in the country at the same time, so they shot them separately and then put them together @_@

You know, I never thought about this before, but when Gandalf touches Pippin's face, they had to make sure his hands looked extra big! So they used an actor called Big Paul, who had the biggest hands they could find, and Ian McKellen directed him for how to move his hands in the shot XD And Big Paul is the Rohan guard who gets shoved aside when Merry and Aragorn rush up to the top of the wall to watch Gandalf and Pippin leave!

THEY SHOT A SCENE OF LEGOLAS TALKING TO TREEBEARD ABOUT THE ELVES LEAVING MIDDLE-EARTH?!?!?!?!?!?! :O Originally, it was going to link the Isengard scenes to the scene of Arwen and the other Rivendell Elves going through the forest, but then because of all the Edoras stuff in between, the connection was lost. They also said something about Legolas reciting a poem! And joked again about putting it into the 25th anniversary edition. THAT TIME IS COMING UP, PETER JACKSON!!!! I WANNA SEE THIS SCENE!!!!!!

a;lkdsjs;kdfljds;fjl NOW THEY'RE JUST TEASING US. They talked about a "library scene" during the whole sequence where Arwen goes back to Rivendell and confronts Elrond about how he saw her son, etc. They wouldn't say what happened in the "library scene," but talked about how they should include that in the 25th anniversary edition too. a;ldkfjs;dkfljsd;kfljdslfk

The people on set who had a crush on Sean Bean were called "Beanstalkers"! XD That's the best; every fan to this day ought to call themselves that!

Similarly to the scene with Legolas and Aragorn, the little bit with Legolas and Gimli as everyone's getting ready to leave Edoras was filmed separately because Orlando and John weren't in the country at the same time. So they filmed Legolas' shots with Brett, John's scale double, then filmed John's shots later, filming both of them against greenscreen. Then they took some unused footage from the Edoras set and put it in the background. It just boggles my mind how many of these cobbled-together scenes there are, because it feels so much like all the characters are together in the real location!

RED ALERT RED ALERT THIS IS NOT A DRILL!!!! They mentioned Beregond!!!! 8D When talking about why they put in the scene where Pippin and Faramir talk (when Faramir says the uniform Pippin's wearing was made for him when he was a child), in order to forge the connection between them that will ultimately lead to Pippin saving Faramir's life, they talked briefly about Beregond! They describe him taking Pippin under his wing, showing him about the city, and called the relationship between them "quite sweet" :3

Another little connection between Pippin and Faramir I don't think I've ever thought about before, that apparently Billy Boyd thought about when doing these scenes, is that Pippin is the only son of the Thain of the Shire, so there may have been a certain amount of pressure and expectation on him. Obviously, he's so young and probably didn't spend too much time worrying about that while scampering about the Shire, but maybe that's something he thinks about while watching the way Faramir and Denethor interact. Maybe a contrast to the way he would interact with his own father, maybe a reminder of the way he would be scolded? Hard to say, but it's interesting to think about.

Uuuuuuughghghg, so frustrating to listen to them talking about the scene on the steps where Frodo sends Sam away DX No matter how many times and how many different ways they explain why they did it, the explanations never quite make sense to me. "We needed there to be more tension." WHY WAS IT NOT TENSE ENOUGH THAT THEY WERE GOING INTO THE LAIR OF A HUGE EVIL SPIDER?! "There wasn't really anything happening on the steps otherwise." YEAH, BECAUSE YOU PUT THE WHOLE CONVERSATION ABOUT STORIES IN THE PREVIOUS MOVIE! Also, why not just cut from one or two shots of them climbing this awful staircase to a shot of them entering the cave? "There needed to be a payoff for Gollum's scheming." WHY WAS GOLLUM BETRAYING THEM TO SHELOB NOT ENOUGH OF A PAYOFF?! "We knew InStInCtIvElY that Frodo needed to enter the cave alone." WHY? WHY?! I've never understood that. They get separated eventually in the book, so why not just ramp up the tension of that in the movie, instead of making the characters so OOC? "We knew it would shock readers of the book, and if we'd changed that, what else might we have changed?" You know...I really, really love these movies, and I appreciate what these three were able to accomplish so much...but sometimes I kind of hate them too -_-

The horses didn't want to walk down the hill on the cobbled streets of Minas Tirith, because their steel shoes were so slippery on the stones. So they all had to be re-shod with rubber shoes. What were horseshoes made of back in ye olden days, though? Iron? Did people run into the same problems back then?

I never really noticed this before, but Aragorn never wears Anduril on his belt! He straps it to his horse, and every time you see him with it, he's just holding the naked blade. This is because they made Anduril so long it was really hard for him to wear it from his belt or to pull it out of the scabbard in a natural way XD

The aerial shot of all the Rohirrim leaving Dunharrow was originally shot to show Gandalf's cart heading into the Shire, but since they didn't use it for that, they repurposed it for RotK!

To get Elijah Wood to foam at the mouth when he's stung by Shelob, they gave him two Alka-Seltzer tablets to put in his mouth and work up some foam with his saliva. I've always wondered how they do that sort of thing in movies, but no one's bothered to explain until now....

Sean Astin's audition scene was holding Frodo after Shelob ;A; Apparently, they (or at least Philippa Boyens) were a little skeptical that an American actor would be able to do Sam's character right, but actually a lot of the English actors who auditioned for the role had a hard time with the Shelob aftermath scene, but Sean nailed it :')

Other than the close-ups, they used a dummy for Faramir on the pyre most of the time. Now I'm just imagining John Noble crouching on top of the pyre, cradling a dummy XD

The first Orc that Aragorn kills on Pelennor fields is played by his son Henry! XD

ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME. They actually filmed Sam pushing past the sort of psychic barrier of the Watchers at the gate of Cirith Ungol, but they didn't put it into the extended edition! I love that part. Like...I'm not even sure why, but I've always thought that was such a cool little detail, and I've always been a bit bummed it wasn't in the movie, though I was thrilled to see the actual Watchers at least there as a sort of homage. And all along, they'd actually filmed something for that after all and I never knew! :O

You know, I never thought about it before, but it makes sense that they had to replace the sky digitally in a lot of scenes in Mordor, because of course when they filmed it, the sky wasn't always completely cloudy, but Mordor needs to have a complete cloud cover at all times.

When Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens first saw the footage of Sam carrying Frodo up Mt. Doom, they sent a fax (lolol 1999/2000 technology) to Sean and Elijah. They made the first page look all formal and official, and then on the second page it just said, "You made us cry." :')

Andy Serkis refused to have Gollum stand on two feet until the scene in the Crack of Doom. There were a few times that PJ directed him to lurch onto his feet or something, but Andy wouldn't do it. He wanted to show the difference in Gollum physically when he has the Ring again. What a cool detail!

Originally, the whole part where Frodo's hanging off the ledge and Sam is begging him to reach for him happens after the Ring is destroyed. It's really interesting to consider the slight nuances of how different that would be. The final version makes it almost seem like the Ring is still calling to Frodo, like he wants to fall into the lava and join it, whereas originally it was more like "I've lost the Ring and now I have nothing left to live for."

PJ made a sweet comment in the scene where everyone bows to the four hobbits: "This is a moment where there's always a huge sniffle in the audience when the movie's going, and it's usually me." XD

ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?!?! They shot scenes of what happens to the other characters when the hobbits return to the Shire! There is footage out there somewhere of what Legolas and Gimli do, what happens with Faramir and Eowyn!!!! ;aldkfjsd;fkldslfkjd 25th anniversary edition LET'S GOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

[lowtaperfeyd]

HEAR ME OUT angst lady jessica x reader w this prompt

"I don't want to love her. I don't like what that means for me."

"What do you think it means?"

"It means I have something to lose again."

Dimming Stars

Lady Jessica x Soldier!Reader

author's note: I HEAR YOU ANON, LOUD AND CLEAR, also "hey... how y'all doing?"

warnings: mentions of blood, death, dark dune stuff

wc: 1174

There was a difference between Geidi Prime and Caladan. The former was a place where the smartest survived, not the largest. You had to always be on your toes in the safest places, be wary of anyone who holds a weapon, because you'll never know whether or not they will turn on you. Never trust a man when he says he can help you, or do you a favor. Because all of those things will lead to you being caught. And by the end, your skin feels like it's been rubbed through with sand to toughen it and your mind is guarded by rows and rows of soldiers, to the point where you become one. 

Tension was in the air ever since the herald of change was on Caladan to ‘give’ Arrakis to the Atreides. No one could pinpoint what was going on. But, the ticking in (Y/N)’s ears came back. A tick that said, “leave, it is not safe here.” The ticking was a remnant of years of loss and uncertainty, it never left and only sometimes flattered. And it only grew stronger on Arrakis. 

(Y/N) sat facing Duncan Idaho as he was polishing a blade. The practice gym they were in was a beige color, that was only dulled by the lack of sunlight streaming through the nonexistent windows. 

“Do you think I could take down a part of that wall?” (Y/N) asked, “Add a window perhaps?”

Duncan let out a noise that could be best described as a scoff, 

“Why? So we can all boil alive?” He retorted. 

“Just to add more light. It would make the place look better, feel safer.” 

Duncan looked over to them,

“It reminds me of that too.” There was no reason to say the name of that dreadful place. Because they both knew what that meant. 

“But I don't see why not,” He added, “We could approach the Duke or Lady Jessica about it.” 

Her name, Jessica, made butterflies strikethrough (Y/N)’s stomach. She was a presence that lingered in their mind. Her auburn hair and green eyes penetrated deep into (Y/N)’s mind. She was the woman who brought life and future to their mind. She was the one thing on their mind during the day. And she rested in their dreams and arms at night. She was the only person that (Y/N) couldn't think about losing. 

No, they thought, it would be too much to bare.

“That’s an idea.” (Y/N), with a twitch of their lip going up, replied to him. “I’ll ask Her Grace later.” 

Duncan smirked at their words. It was a secret not kept well about Lady Jessica and (Y/N). Everyone knew that there was something, but no one knew the details. 

“Do you think something is going to happen here on Arrakis?” (Y/N) questioned as their smile fell. 

“Your guess is as good as mine. Certainly feels that way.”

“I’m worried what will happen to the Arrakeen, the Duke, Paul,” their lip quivered just a little bit, “her.”

“If you're worried you can’t protect that, then you should really reconsider that.” He said trying to comfort them, “and besides love can make you stronger than you already are.”

“I don’t want to love her.” (Y/N) responded firmly, “I don’t like what it means for me.”

“What do you think it means?” he asked

“It means I have something to lose again.”

There was a shared silence and understanding between the two of them. Their friendship based on mutual loss of friends and loved ones. It was an indescribable feeling that you could only learn by that loss.

“Well,” he cut the silence as he began to stand up, “I have to go and find Paul before anything happens.” 

“Good luck with the window!” Duncan said as he left that room. Leaving (Y/N) to stew in the dull and dark room with Jessica on their mind. 

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

Later, in the evening, Lady Jessica and (Y/N) were laying in bed, under the warm light of the glow globe. Their arms were tangled like a pit of snakes with (Y/N)’s hand pinned between Jessica’s face and the soft pillow it was resting on. 

The golden hues added shape and dimension to Lady Jessica’s face. It blessed it with shadows that contoured her nose and cheekbones and with radiance that highlighted her eyes. It was a sight that seemed like no one was worthy enough to see, not even a god. 

“You’re wonderful,” (Y/N) started as their thumb stroked the soft skin beneath Jessica’s eye, “and as mysterious as a sky full of stars.” 

“You’ve always had a way with words.” Jessica whispered to them. 

“Because you give me the ability to find them freely. You are the catalyst of my poetry as well as the bane of my ability to focus.” 

They were both shrouded in sleep that they didn’t notice the bloodshed that was set upon the city. The fire that rained from the heavens couldn’t make them move. It wasn’t until the soldiers were brought inside that (Y/N) took notice and the ticking was even faster.

They shot up from bed, chest heaving, heart pounding, and grabbed the knives that was concealed in one of the bedside drawers. They rushed to the otherside of the bed to wake Jessica up. 

“Jessica,” they hissed, “Jessica, wake up!” 

Jessica’s eyes opened hazily, “what's going on?”

“I don’t know how but the Arrakeen has been invaded. We have to leave.”

(Y/N) grabbed her hand and helped her up from bed. Both of them barefoot and dressed in improper clothes for a time like this. They left the bedroom and began to silently go down the hall with one blade in each of (Y/N)’s hands. They could both hear the sound of gunfire, slashing, and the sounds of final breaths that echoed through the halls. They reached a hall that diverged into two paths. (Y/N) knew that they needed to begin fighting, they knew what choice had to be made. 

“My lady,” (Y/N) started.

“No, please…” Jessica whimpered as she grabbed their hand.

“It is here that we must part.” they said as tears began to well in their eyes. 

“You can’t go out there!” Jessica wailed, “I can’t lose you…”

(Y/N) unlaced their hands and opened Jessica’s hand before placing a blad either and folding her fingers over it. 

“If your safety is promised by my sacrifice, no matter how small, I will lay my knife down and take whatever comes over me.” They whispered before placing a chaste kiss on her forehead. 

“Go down that hall and find a way out, find Paul, find safety, don’t worry about me.” They said as they began to move down the hall to fight the enemy so that Jessica could have more time. 

They parted ways not knowing whether or not they'd see each other again, under the burning palm trees and dimming stars. 

[igorvinyls]

Why I Believe John Lennon is Asuka Langley

Hello everyone! I originally created a thread about this over on Twitter, though I also want to post it here just because. I want to preface this by saying while this is mostly a joke, I still want to point out the similarities between the two. I find that both John and Asuka are very complex people/characters that happen to heavily relate to each other. Obvious spoilers for Neon Genesis Evangelion. TW FOR TOPICS SUCH AS SUICIDE AND DEATH.

CHILDHOOD TRAUMA

Both John and Asuka lost their mothers from a young age, with Asuka losing her mother at 4 and John losing his mother just before his 18th birthday. It’s known that John’s mother wasn’t exactly mentally stable as Mimi, John’s aunt, was given custody of him. Similarly to John’s mother, Asuka’s mom, Kyoko, was also mentally unstable. Kyoko lost her mind after surviving a failed experiment with Evangelion Unit-02. This experiment would also end up taking the life of Yui Ikari, Shinji’s mother (this is important info for later.) Kyoko ultimately committed suicide after losing her mind and her husband in the process. Though it is ambiguous how Asuka’s father felt towards her, he did indeed drive his daughter away by cheating on Kyoko while hospitalized. It’s also known that John’s father wasn’t very involved with him up until the height of Beatlemania. Both John and Asuka were never very close with their parents due to many different factors.

(It can also be argued that John and Asuka were both adopted, but Asuka being adopted was only canon in the manga. For the sake of this post, I’ll only mention canon events from the anime going forward.)

I would also like to bring up this video.

RELATIONSHIPS WITH LOVERS

John and Yoko will probably be the most recognized celebrity couple in the world. It’s also recognized that John had an Oedipus complex which was sometimes discussed. The same can be said for Asuka, considering the fact that she romantically latched onto Kaji, a 30 year old special inspector for NERV. Asuka does this to fill the void of a perfect father figure in her life, as well as filling the role of a lover. John mentions doing this with Yoko numerous times. John and Yoko would even go as far as calling each other mommy and daddy. Moving onto other romantic relationships, I will now discuss Shinji, Asuka, John, and Paul. Shinji and Asuka have this strange dynamic throughout the story of Evangelion. Asuka is secretly in love with Shinji (you can already see which direction this is headed in), though Shinji has a hard time reciprocating his feelings due to his own personal struggles. Asuka’s rudeness and constant bullying also confuses Shinji, leaving him to wonder what Asuka truly feels for him. In this scenario, Paul would be in the same boat as Shinji. Shinji and Paul both lost their mothers at a young age. Paul and John bonded over the loss of their mothers. In a way, this also happens with Shinji and Asuka. It’s easy to tell that Shinji is more drawn towards Asuka after she tells him that her stepmom isn’t her actual mother. John and Paul go on to have a rivalry as they grow older, which also happens to Asuka and Shinji, though their rivalry was highlighted since day one. This rivalry between the two characters progresses all the way to the finale of the series. You can say that Asuka finally accepts Shinji when she lifts her hand up to his cheek while he is brutally strangling her. This act is seen as her accepting him into her heart after everything that they’ve been through. John and Paul also reconcile towards the end of John’s life. In Evangelion, the world is quite literally destroyed at the end of the series when the two finally reconcile. I’m not gonna be cheesy and say the same for John and Paul, but yeah. MOVING ON NOW.

OTHER FACTORS

John and Asuka have a habit of trying to appear more “mature” than they truly are. Asuka constantly boasts about being the best and most mature out of everyone. Same can be said for John. We also see this with his marriage to Cynthia Powell, John’s first wife. In my eyes, John’s first marriage was a rush to maturity considering the fact that he was only 21. I could say the same for John having a child with Cynthia at such a young age as well. John and Asuka, though trying to seem mature, are ultimately vulnerable people who tend to regress. Asuka acts like a young, lovestruck girl with Kaji. John acted in a similar fashion with Yoko. Asuka and John had massive egos. What else is there to say, really?

FINAL SUMMARY AND A FUN FACT

This is gonna be a quick one that basically ties together the points of my threads.

John and Asuka were seriously neglected as children which had a massive impact on their social development, as well as behavior.

Both had large egos, yet low self esteem.

The only fun fact about the two I have is that they both know German and Japanese.

THANKS FOR READING!