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blackswaneuroparedux · 3 years

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Anonymous asked: I enjoyed reading your posts about Napoleon’s death and it’s quite timely given its the 200th anniversary of his death this year in May. I was wondering, because you know a lot about military history (your served right? That’s cool to fly combat helicopters) and you live in France but aren’t French, what your take was on Napoleon and how do the French view him? Do they hail him as a hero or do they like others see him like a Hitler or a Stalin? Do you see him as a hero or a villain of history?

5 May 1821 was a memorable date because Napoleon, one of the most iconic figures in world history, died while in bitter exile on a remote island in the South Atlantic Ocean. Napoleon Bonaparte, as you know rose from obscure soldier to a kind of new Caesar, and yet he remains a uniquely controversial figure to this day especially in France. You raise interesting questions about Napoleon and his legacy. If I may reframe your questions in another way. Should we think of him as a flawed but essentially heroic visionary who changed Europe for the better? Or was he simply a military dictator, whose cult of personality and lust for power set a template for the likes of Hitler?

However one chooses to answer this question can we just - to get this out of the way - simply and definitively say that Napoleon was not Hitler. Not even close. No offence intended to you but this is just dumb ahistorical thinking and it’s a lazy lie. This comparison was made by some in the horrid aftermath of the Second World War but only held little currency for only a short time thereafter. Obviously that view didn’t exist before Hitler in the 19th Century and these days I don’t know any serious historian who takes that comparison seriously.

I confess I don’t have a definitive answer if he was a hero or a villain one way or the other because Napoleon has really left a very complicated legacy. It really depends on where you’re coming from.

As a staunch Brit I do take pride in Britain’s victorious war against Napoleonic France - and in a good natured way rubbing it in the noses of French friends at every opportunity I get because it’s in our cultural DNA and it’s bloody good fun (why else would we make Waterloo train station the London terminus of the Eurostar international rail service from its opening in 1994? Or why hang a huge gilded portrait of the Duke of Wellington as the first thing that greets any visitor to the residence of the British ambassador at the British Embassy?). On a personal level I take special pride in knowing my family ancestors did their bit on the battlefield to fight against Napoleon during those tumultuous times. However, as an ex-combat veteran who studied Napoleonic warfare with fan girl enthusiasm, I have huge respect for Napoleon as a brilliant military commander. And to makes things more weird, as a Francophile resident of who loves living and working in France (and my partner is French) I have a grudging but growing regard for Napoleon’s political and cultural legacy, especially when I consider the current dross of political mediocrity on both the political left and the right. So for me it’s a complicated issue how I feel about Napoleon, the man, the soldier, and the political leader.

If it’s not so straightforward for me to answer the for/against Napoleon question then it It’s especially true for the French, who even after 200 years, still have fiercely divided opinions about Napoleon and his legacy - but intriguingly, not always in clear cut ways.

I only have to think about my French neighbours in my apartment building to see how divisive Napoleon the man and his legacy is. Over the past year or so of the Covid lockdown we’ve all gotten to know each other better and we help each other. Over the Covid year we’ve gathered in the inner courtyard for a buffet and just lifted each other spirits up.

One of my neighbours, a crusty old ex-general in the army who has an enviable collection of military history books that I steal, liberate, borrow, often discuss military figures in history like Napoleon over our regular games of chess and a glass of wine. He is from very old aristocracy of the ancien regime and whose family suffered at the hands of ‘madame guillotine’ during the French Revolution. They lost everything. He has mixed emotions about Napoleon himself as an old fashioned monarchist. As a military man he naturally admires the man and the military genius but he despises the secularisation that the French Revolution ushered in as well as the rise of the haute bourgeois as middle managers and bureaucrats by the displacement of the aristocracy.

Another retired widowed neighbour I am close to, and with whom I cook with often and discuss art, is an active arts patron and ex-art gallery owner from a very wealthy family that came from the new Napoleonic aristocracy - ie the aristocracy of the Napoleonic era that Napoleon put in place - but she is dismissive of such titles and baubles. She’s a staunch Republican but is happy to concede she is grateful for Napoleon in bringing order out of chaos. She recognises her own ambivalence when she says she dislikes him for reintroducing slavery in the French colonies but also praises him for firmly supporting Paris’s famed Comédie-Française of which she was a past patron.

Another French neighbour, a senior civil servant in the Elysée, is quite dismissive of Napoleon as a war monger but is grudgingly grateful for civil institutions and schools that Napoleon established and which remain in place today.

My other neighbours - whether they be French families or foreign expats like myself - have similarly divisive and complicated attitudes towards Napoleon.

In 2010 an opinion poll in France asked who was the most important man in French history. Napoleon came second, behind General Charles de Gaulle, who led France from exile during the German occupation in World War II and served as a postwar president.

The split in French opinion is closely mirrored in political circles. The divide is generally down political party lines. On the left, there's the 'black legend' of Bonaparte as an ogre. On the right, there is the 'golden legend' of a strong leader who created durable institutions.

Jacques-Olivier Boudon, a history professor at Paris-Sorbonne University and president of the Napoléon Institute, once explained at a talk I attended that French public opinion has always remained deeply divided over Napoleon, with, on the one hand, those who admire the great man, the conqueror, the military leader and, on the other, those who see him as a bloodthirsty tyrant, the gravedigger of the revolution. Politicians in France, Boudon observed, rarely refer to Napoleon for fear of being accused of authoritarian temptations, or not being good Republicans.

On the left-wing of French politics, former prime minister Lionel Jospin penned a controversial best selling book entitled “the Napoleonic Evil” in which he accused the emperor of “perverting the ideas of the Revolution” and imposing “a form of extreme domination”, “despotism” and “a police state” on the French people. He wrote Napoleon was "an obvious failure" - bad for France and the rest of Europe. When he was booted out into final exile, France was isolated, beaten, occupied, dominated, hated and smaller than before. What's more, Napoleon smothered the forces of emancipation awakened by the French and American revolutions and enabled the survival and restoration of monarchies. Some of the legacies with which Napoleon is credited, including the Civil Code, the comprehensive legal system replacing a hodgepodge of feudal laws, were proposed during the revolution, Jospin argued, though he acknowledges that Napoleon actually delivered them, but up to a point, "He guaranteed some principles of the revolution and, at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it," For instance, Napoleon reintroduced slavery in French colonies, revived a system that allowed the rich to dodge conscription in the military and did nothing to advance gender equality.

At the other end of the spectrum have been former right-wing prime minister Dominique de Villepin, an aristocrat who was once fancied as a future President, a passionate collector of Napoleonic memorabilia, and author of several works on the subject. As a Napoleonic enthusiast he tells a different story. Napoleon was a saviour of France. If there had been no Napoleon, the Republic would not have survived. Advocates like de Villepin point to Napoleon’s undoubted achievements: the Civil Code, the Council of State, the Bank of France, the National Audit office, a centralised and coherent administrative system, lycées, universities, centres of advanced learning known as école normale, chambers of commerce, the metric system, and an honours system based on merit (which France has to this day). He restored the Catholic faith as the state faith but allowed for the freedom of religion for other faiths including Protestantism and Judaism. These were ambitions unachieved during the chaos of the revolution. As it is, these Napoleonic institutions continue to function and underpin French society. Indeed, many were copied in countries conquered by Napoleon, such as Italy, Germany and Poland, and laid the foundations for the modern state.

Back in 2014, French politicians and institutions in particular were nervous in marking the 200th anniversary of Napoleon's exile. My neighbours and other French friends remember that the commemorations centred around the Chateau de Fontainebleau, the traditional home of the kings of France and was the scene where Napoleon said farewell to the Old Guard in the "White Horse Courtyard" (la cour du Cheval Blanc) at the Palace of Fontainebleau. (The courtyard has since been renamed the "Courtyard of Goodbyes".) By all accounts the occasion was very moving. The 1814 Treaty of Fontainebleau stripped Napoleon of his powers (but not his title as Emperor of the French) and sent him into exile on Elba. The cost of the Fontainebleau "farewell" and scores of related events over those three weekends was shouldered not by the central government in Paris but by the local château, a historic monument and UNESCO World Heritage site, and the town of Fontainebleau.

While the 200th anniversary of the French Revolution that toppled the monarchy and delivered thousands to death by guillotine was officially celebrated in 1989, Napoleonic anniversaries are neither officially marked nor celebrated. For example, over a decade ago, the president and prime minister - at the time, Jacques Chirac and Dominque de Villepin - boycotted a ceremony marking the 200th anniversary of the battle of Austerlitz, Napoleon's greatest military victory. Both men were known admirers of Napoleon and yet political calculation and optics (as media spin doctors say) stopped them from fully honouring Napoleon’s crowning military glory.

Optics is everything. The division of opinion in France is perhaps best reflected in the fact that, in a city not shy of naming squares and streets after historical figures, there is not a single “Boulevard Napoleon” or “Place Napoleon” in Paris. On the streets of Paris, there are just two statues of Napoleon. One stands beneath the clock tower at Les Invalides (a military hospital), the other atop a column in the Place Vendôme. Napoleon's red marble tomb, in a crypt under the Invalides dome, is magnificent, perhaps because his remains were interred there during France's Second Empire, when his nephew, Napoleon III, was on the throne.

There are no squares, nor places, nor boulevards named for Napoleon but as far as I know there is one narrow street, the rue Bonaparte, running from the Luxembourg Gardens to the River Seine in the old Latin Quarter. And, that, too, is thanks to Napoleon III. For many, and I include myself, it’s a poor return by the city to the man who commissioned some of its most famous monuments, including the Arc de Triomphe and the Pont des Arts over the River Seine.

It's almost as if Napoleon Bonaparte is not part of the national story.

How Napoleon fits into that national story is something historians, French and non-French, have been grappling with ever since Napoleon died. The plain fact is Napoleon divides historians, what precisely he represents is deeply ambiguous and his political character is the subject of heated controversy. It’s hard for historians to sift through archival documents to make informed judgements and still struggle to separate the man from the myth.

One proof of this myth is in his immortality. After Hitler’s death, there was mostly an embarrassed silence; after Stalin’s, little but denunciation. But when Napoleon died on St Helena in 1821, much of Europe and the Americas could not help thinking of itself as a post-Napoleonic generation. His presence haunts the pages of Stendhal and Alfred de Vigny. In a striking and prescient phrase, Chateaubriand prophesied the “despotism of his memory”, a despotism of the fantastical that in many ways made Romanticism possible and that continues to this day.

The raw material for the future Napoleon myth was provided by one of his St Helena confidants, the Comte de las Cases, whose account of conversations with the great man came out shortly after his death and ran in repeated editions throughout the century. De las Cases somehow metamorphosed the erstwhile dictator into a herald of liberty, the emperor into a slayer of dynasties rather than the founder of his own. To the “great man” school of history Napoleon was grist to their mill, and his meteoric rise redefined the meaning of heroism in the modern world.

The Marxists, for all their dislike of great men, grappled endlessly with the meaning of the 18th Brumaire; indeed one of France’s most eminent Marxist historians, George Lefebvre, wrote what arguably remains the finest of all biographies of him.

It was on this already vast Napoleon literature, a rich terrain for the scholar of ideas, that the great Dutch historian Pieter Geyl was lecturing in 1940 when he was arrested and sent to Buchenwald. There he composed what became one of the classics of historiography, a seminal book entitled Napoleon: For and Against, which charted how generations of intellectuals had happily served up one Napoleon after another. Like those poor souls who crowded the lunatic asylums of mid-19th century France convinced that they were Napoleon, generations of historians and novelists simply could not get him out of their head.

The debate runs on today no less intensely than in the past. Post-Second World War Marxists would argue that he was not, in fact, revolutionary at all. Eric Hobsbawm, a notable British Marxist historian, argued that ‘Most-perhaps all- of his ideas were anticipated by the Revolution’ and that Napoleon’s sole legacy was to twist the ideals of the French Revolution, and make them ‘more conservative, hierarchical and authoritarian’.

This contrasts deeply with the view William Doyle holds of Napoleon. Doyle described Bonaparte as ‘the Revolution incarnate’ and saw Bonaparte’s humbling of Europe’s other powers, the ‘Ancien Regimes’, as a necessary precondition for the birth of the modern world. Whatever one thinks of Napoleon’s character, his sharp intellect is difficult to deny. Even Paul Schroeder, one of Napoleon’s most scathing critics, who condemned his conduct of foreign policy as a ‘criminal enterprise’ never denied Napoleon’s intellect. Schroder concluded that Bonaparte ‘had an extraordinary capacity for planning, decision making, memory, work, mastery of detail and leadership’. The question of whether Napoleon used his genius for the betterment or the detriment of the world, is the heart of the debate which surrounds him.

France's foremost Napoleonic scholar, Jean Tulard, put forward the thesis that Bonaparte was the architect of modern France. "And I would say also pâtissier [a cake and pastry maker] because of the administrative millefeuille that we inherited." Oddly enough, in North America the multilayered mille-feuille cake is called ‘a napoleon.’ Tulard’s works are essential reading of how French historians have come to tackle the question of Napoleon’s legacy. He takes the view that if Napoleon had not crushed a Royalist rebellion and seized power in 1799, the French monarchy and feudalism would have returned, Tulard has written. "Like Cincinnatus in ancient Rome, Napoleon wanted a dictatorship of public salvation. He gets all the power, and, when the project is finished, he returns to his plough." In the event, the old order was never restored in France. When Louis XVIII became emperor in 1814, he served as a constitutional monarch.

In England, until recently the views on Napoleon have traditionally less charitable and more cynical. Professor Christopher Clark, the notable Cambridge University European historian, has written. "Napoleon was not a French patriot - he was first a Corsican and later an imperial figure, a journey in which he bypassed any deep affiliation with the French nation," Clark believed Napoleon’s relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent.

Did he stabilise the revolutionary state or shut it down mercilessly? Clark believes Napoleon seems to have done both. Napoleon rejected democracy, he suffocated the representative dimension of politics, and he created a culture of courtly display. A month before crowning himself emperor, Napoleon sought approval for establishing an empire from the French in a plebiscite; 3,572,329 voted in favour, 2,567 against. If that landslide resembles an election in North Korea, well, this was no secret ballot. Each ‘yes’ or ‘no’ was recorded, along with the name and address of the voter. Evidently, an overwhelming majority knew which side their baguette was buttered on.

His extravagant coronation in Notre Dame in December 1804 cost 8.5 million francs (€6.5 million or $8.5 million in today's money). He made his brothers, sisters and stepchildren kings, queens, princes and princesses and created a Napoleonic aristocracy numbering 3,500. By any measure, it was a bizarre progression for someone often described as ‘a child of the Revolution.’ By crowning himself emperor, the genuine European kings who surrounded him were not convinced. Always a warrior first, he tried to represent himself as a Caesar, and he wears a Roman toga on the bas-reliefs in his tomb. His coronation crown, a laurel wreath made of gold, sent the same message. His icon, the eagle, was also borrowed from Rome. But Caesar's legitimacy depended on military victories. Ultimately, Napoleon suffered too many defeats.

These days Napoleon the man and his times remain very much in fashion and we are living through something of a new golden age of Napoleonic literature. Those historians who over the past decade or so have had fun denouncing him as the first totalitarian dictator seem to have it all wrong: no angel, to be sure, he ended up doing far more at far less cost than any modern despot. In his widely praised 2014 biography, Napoleon the Great, Andrew Roberts writes: “The ideas that underpin our modern world - meritocracy, equality before the law, property rights, religious toleration, modern secular education, sound finances, and so on - were championed, consolidated, codified and geographically extended by Napoleon. To them he added a rational and efficient local administration, an end to rural banditry, the encouragement of science and the arts, the abolition of feudalism and the greatest codification of laws since the fall of the Roman empire.”

Roberts partly bases his historical judgement on newly released historical documents about Napoleon that were only available in the past decade and has proved to be a boon for all Napoleonic scholars. Newly released 33,000 letters Napoleon wrote that still survive are now used extensively to illustrate the astonishing capacity that Napoleon had for compartmentalising his mind - he laid down the rules for a girls’ boarding school on the eve of the battle of Borodino, for example, and the regulations for Paris’s Comédie-Française while camped in the Kremlin. They also show Napoleon’s extraordinary capacity for micromanaging his empire: he would write to the prefect of Genoa telling him not to allow his mistress into his box at the theatre, and to a corporal of the 13th Line regiment warning him not to drink so much.

For me to have my own perspective on Napoleon is tough. The problem is that nothing with Napoleon is simple, and almost every aspect of his personality is a maddening paradox. He was a military genius who led disastrous campaigns. He was a liberal progressive who reinstated slavery in the French colonies. And take the French Revolution, which came just before Napoleon’s rise to power, his relationship with the French Revolution is deeply ambivalent. Did he stabilise it or shut it down? I agree with those British and French historians who now believe Napoleon seems to have done both.

On the one hand, Napoleon did bring order to a nation that had been drenched in blood in the years after the Revolution. The French people had endured the crackdown known as the 'Reign of Terror', which saw so many marched to the guillotine, as well as political instability, corruption, riots and general violence. Napoleon’s iron will managed to calm the chaos. But he also rubbished some of the core principles of the Revolution. A nation which had boldly brought down the monarchy had to watch as Napoleon crowned himself Emperor, with more power and pageantry than Louis XVI ever had. He also installed his relatives as royals across Europe, creating a new aristocracy. In the words of French politician and author Lionel Jospin, 'He guaranteed some principles of the Revolution and at the same time, changed its course, finished it and betrayed it.'

He also had a feared henchman in the form of Joseph Fouché, who ran a secret police network which instilled dread in the population. Napoleon’s spies were everywhere, stifling political opposition. Dozens of newspapers were suppressed or shut down. Books had to be submitted for approval to the Commission of Revision, which sounds like something straight out of George Orwell. Some would argue Hitler and Stalin followed this playbook perfectly. But here come the contradictions. Napoleon also championed education for all, founding a network of schools. He championed the rights of the Jews. In the territories conquered by Napoleon, laws which kept Jews cooped up in ghettos were abolished. 'I will never accept any proposals that will obligate the Jewish people to leave France,' he once said, 'because to me the Jews are the same as any other citizen in our country.'

He also, crucially, developed the Napoleonic Code, a set of laws which replaced the messy, outdated feudal laws that had been used before. The Napoleonic Code clearly laid out civil laws and due processes, establishing a society based on merit and hard work, rather than privilege. It was rolled out far beyond France, and indisputably helped to modernise Europe. While it certainly had its flaws – women were ignored by its reforms, and were essentially regarded as the property of men – the Napoleonic Code is often brandished as the key evidence for Napoleon’s progressive credentials. In the words of historian Andrew Roberts, author of Napoleon the Great, 'the ideas that underpin our modern world… were championed by Napoleon'.

What about Napoleon’s battlefield exploits? If anything earns comparisons with Hitler, it’s Bonaparte’s apparent appetite for conquest. His forces tore down republics across Europe, and plundered works of art, much like the Nazis would later do. A rampant imperialist, Napoleon gleefully grabbed some of the greatest masterpieces of the Renaissance, and allegedly boasted, 'the whole of Rome is in Paris.'

Napoleon has long enjoyed a stellar reputation as a field commander – his capacities as a military strategist, his ability to read a battle, the painstaking detail with which he made sure that he cold muster a larger force than his adversary or took maximum advantage of the lie of the land – these are stuff of the military legend that has built up around him. It is not without its critics, of course, especially among those who have worked intensively on the later imperial campaigns, in the Peninsula, in Russia, or in the final days of the Empire at Waterloo.

Doubts about his judgment, and allegations of rashness, have been raised in the context of some of his victories, too, most notably, perhaps, at Marengo. But overall his reputation remains largely intact, and his military campaigns have been taught in the curricula of military academies from Saint-Cyr to Sandhurst, alongside such great tacticians as Alexander the Great and Hannibal.

Historians may query his own immodest opinion that his presence on the battlefield was worth an extra forty thousand men to his cause, but it is clear that when he was not present (as he was not for most of the campaign in Spain) the French were wont to struggle. Napoleon understood the value of speed and surprise, but also of structures and loyalties. He reformed the army by introducing the corps system, and he understood military aspirations, rewarding his men with medals and honours; all of which helped ensure that he commanded exceptional levels of personal loyalty from his troops.

Yet, I do find it hard to side with the more staunch defenders of Napoleon who say his reputation as a war monger is to some extent due to British propaganda at the time. They will point out that the Napoleonic Wars, far from being Napoleon’s fault, were just a continuation of previous conflicts that arose thanks to the French Revolution. Napoleon, according to this analysis, inherited a messy situation, and his only real crime was to be very good at defeating enemies on the battlefield. I think that is really pushing things too far. I mean deciding to invade Spain and then Russia were his decisions to invade and conquer.

He was, by any measure, a genius of war. Even his nemesis the Duke of Wellington, when asked who the greatest general of his time was, replied: 'In this age, in past ages, in any age, Napoleon.'

I will qualify all this and agree that Napoleon’s Russian campaign has been rightly held up as a fatal folly which killed so many of his men, but this blunder – epic as it was – should not be compared to Hitler’s wars of evil aggression. Most historians will agree that comparing the two men is horribly flattering to Hitler - a man fuelled by visceral, genocidal hate - and demeaning to Napoleon, who was a product of Enlightenment thinking and left a legacy that in many ways improved Europe.

Napoleon was, of course, no libertarian, and no pluralist. He would tolerate no opposition to his rule, and though it was politicians and civilians who imposed his reforms, the army was never far behind. But comparisons with twentieth-century dictators are well wide of the mark. While he insisted on obedience from those he administered, his ideology was based not on division or hatred, but on administrative efficiency and submission to the law. And the state he believed in remained stubbornly secular.

In Catholic southern Europe, of course, that was not an approach with which it was easy to acquiesce; and disorder, insurgency and partisan attacks can all be counted among the results. But these were principles on which the Emperor would not and could not give ground. If he had beliefs they were not religious or spiritual beliefs, but the secular creed of a man who never forgot that he owed both his military career and his meteoric political rise to the French Revolution, and who never quite abandoned, amidst the monarchical symbolism and the court pomp of the Empire, the republican dreams of his youth. When he claimed, somewhat ambiguously, after the coup of 18 Brumaire that `the Revolution was over’, he almost certainly meant that the principles of 1789 had at last been consummated, and that the continuous cycle of violence of the 1790s could therefore come to an end.

When the Empire was declared in 1804, the wording, again, might seem curious, the French being informed that the `Republic would henceforth be ruled by an Emperor’. Napoleon might be a dictator, but a part at least of him remained a son of the Enlightenment.

The arguments over Napoleon’s status will continue - and that in itself is a testament to the power of one of the most complex figures ever to straddle the world’s stage.

Will the fascination with Napoleon continue for another 200 years?

In France, at least, enthusiasm looks set to diminish. Napoleon and his exploits are scarcely mentioned in French schools anymore. Stéphane Guégan, curator of the Musée d'Orsay in Paris, which, among other First Empire artworks, houses a plaster model of Napoleon dressed as a Roman emperor astride a horse, has described France's fascination with him as ‘a national illness.’ He believes that the people who met him were fascinated by his charm. And today, even the most hostile to Napoleon also face this charm. So there is a difficulty to apprehend the duality of this character. As he wrote, “He was born from the revolution, he extended and finished it, and after 1804 he turns into a despot, a dictator.”

In France, Guégan aptly observes, there is a kind of nostalgia, not for dictatorship but for strong leaders. "Our age is suffering a lack of imagination and political utopia,"

Here I think Guégan is onto something. Napoleon’s stock has always risen or fallen according to the vicissitudes of world events and fortunes of France itself.

In the past, history was the study of great men and women. Today the focus of teaching is on trends, issues and movements. France in 1800 is no longer about Louis XVI and Napoleon Bonaparte. It's about the industrial revolution. Man does not make history. History makes men. Or does it? The study of history makes a mug out of those with such simple ideological driven conceits.

For two hundred years on, the French still cannot agree on whether Napoleon was a hero or a villain as he has swung like a pendulum according to the gravitational pull of historical events and forces.

The question I keep asking of myself and also to French friends with whom I discuss such things is what kind of Napoleon does our generation need?

Thanks for your question.

#question #ask #napoleon #french #french history #history #military history #bonaparte #france #historiography #republic #historians #personal

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write-ur-wrongs · 3 years

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Nature’s Nurturing Ways

Hi y’all! This pandemic has really taken the wind out of my sails these past few weeks (maybe months? Time is completely untraceable right now). This piece is born out of a lovely anon’s request, bolded below. As always, I haven’t proofread this mess, so please forgive the typos! I’ll do my best to correct them post-publishing. I seriously can’t thank you enough for taking the time to send me your ideas, and I promise I’ll get better at writing actual drabbles LOL. I hope you enjoy :)

Hii can you write something abt Geralt being w a plant-based reader where she loves animals and nature? Tysm

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Geralt and Jaskier had been travelling for hours when the beating sun finally wore them down. There hadn’t been a breeze in days and the hot, stale air was starting to suffocate the uncharacteristically quiet bard, who wouldn’t dare compete with the surrounding cicada’s symphony.

“Geralt,” he rasped, “do you hear any running water? Drips or gurgles? I’ll take anything.”

“Jask, it hasn’t rained in days and it’s hotter than the depths of hell,” the Witcher sighed before continuing, “I said no yesterday, the answer is the same today.”

“Euughh!” Jaskier threw his head back in despair before hanging his head in exhaustion. “Geralt, I don’t want to be dramatic -,”

“Ha!” Geralt twisted in his saddle to look back at his friend with a quirked brow.

“- but I will fall off this horse and die of exposure if we don’t find water soon.”

Shaking his head, Geralt knew that despite the bard’s tendency to embellish, the situation was getting dire. They’d traveled this way dozens of times before and had always relied on the steady creek that ran alongside the trail for water. The region wasn’t known for dry spells and while Geralt was sure he could manage either way, his companion on the trail was not so durable.

They wouldn’t arrive at their destination for another three or four hours, at his level of dehydration and with probable heat exhaustion, Jaskier might not have that much time.

With another gruff sigh, Geralt pulled back on Roach’s reins and redirected her off the road and into the forest, turning back to ensure Jaskier’s horse would follow.

Geralt knew that there was a small clearing off the road where the thick leaves from the old trees made a lush, and shaded, canopy. He’d been there before a handful of times. It’s where he shared a tender first kiss, where he’d laid his head on Y/N’s chest before falling asleep feeling the cool, lush, grass cradling his large frame. It’s where he first said I love you.

Shaking his head slightly to pull himself from his memories, he dismounted and grabbed both sets of reins, leading the horses into farther the clearing. Once they’d reached the middle of the small field, Geralt released Roach’s lead and gave her a neck a scratch before leaving her to graze.

“Come on Jaskier,” he said, reaching into the gelding’s saddle bag for some food, “get off your horse and lay down in the grass.”

The bard fell out of his saddle with a thud while Geralt continue to root around the bag, huffing as he kept coming up empty.

“Did you eat the last of the cheese?”

“Mmpft,” Jaskier replied incoherently, face down in the grass.

“Hey –”

“Oi! You kicked me!”

“Where is the food? We had bread, cheese, and meat left over last night. Did you fucking eat it all?”

“No, you oaf,” he said, rolling over onto his back, “we ate the rest of it this morning.”

“Fuck!” Geralt cursed under his breath, pulling his hair up off his neck to cool off. He could barely remember what they’d done earlier that day. The heat had been unbearable all evening, and the rising sun only made it worse.

“Don’t worry about it Geralt! No need to apologize for accusing me so harshly.” Jaskier said, words dripping in sarcasm.

Geralt merely looked down at the bard with disdain and rolled his eyes, refusing to admit the sun might be affecting him too.

“Shut up and take off your shirt –”

“Oh-ho!” he laughed weakly, wiggling his eye brows at the witcher. No matter how beaten and battered the bard may be, he’d never miss an opportunity to tease Geralt.

“No, Gods! Fuck,” Geralt went on, flustered, “the grass will cool you down a hell of a lot faster if you’re in direct contact. And besides, Y/N will kill me if I let you die of exposure.”

“Always so serious, eh Geralt?” Jaskier chided playfully, pulling off his tunic before laying back down onto the grass, “Oh-ho-ho-ohhhh yes… Sweet merciful goddess of all that is good, this feels amazing! Yes, yes, yes!”

While he was sure the bard was still mumbling gratefully, and disgustingly, at the feeling of the cool grass against his skin, Geralt’s mind was elsewhere. Somewhere in this clearing, wild heliotropes had bloomed and the sweet, almondine scent was pulling him into a memory.

“Geralt! Witchers use herbs, mushrooms, and flowers in all kinds of magic,” you said, your hands resting high on your hips, “I find it incredibly hard to believe that in all your years and extensive travels, you’d never learned to forage?”

“All my years, eh?” he’d replied, cat-like eyes gleaming back at you.

“Well of course,” you teased, “I mean, unless you mean to tell me that silver head of hair is a choice born out of vanity?”

“I’m going to make you pay for that later, Y/N.” He laughed, taken aback and a little impressed that you felt so comfortable with his mutations as to mock him playfully.

“Ha! Me and what coin?” you reply with a light laugh, bending over to collect the generous mushrooms growing through the bed of leaves and needles.

Geralt turned his head towards you to hit you with a winning comeback, but found himself lost for words when his eyes failed to meet yours.

You get up slowly, peering over your shoulder to find your witcher’s eyes on your backside. Smirking to yourself and quirking a brow flirtatiously, you toss a handful of dirt and wet leaves his way, hitting the poor soul right in the chest.

“Distracted, Geralt?” you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder as you straightened up.

Geralt swallowed thickly, desperately trying to string together at least a couple words – witty at best, coherent at least – when he heard a twig snap in the surrounding forest.

Quick as a flash, he drew his sword and his attention towards the source of the disturbance, a large boar. Chest already swelling with pride at the thought of providing you with a hearty meal, Geralt prepared his attack on the creature before him.

Seeing that the “threat” in question was nothing but a passing porcine, you dove before him with a shout, dropping the mushrooms on the way. Your scream coupled with your sudden movement startled the beast, and it dove deeper into the brush to escape.

“Geralt, no!”

“Damn it, Y/N,” he swore, “I could’ve had it! We could have had a decent meal! We – we would have been set for days!”

“No, Geralt! We have food, right here in this clearing. We needn’t take lives from the forest to eat.”

“Gods, Y/N,” he sighed, dropping his sword to the ground in frustration, “do I need to remind you of the cycle of life? Creatures live, they die, and they get eaten so others can live –”

“Yes, and by leaving that gentle giant to its ruminations, we’ve allowed it to go on, to feed its young, or hell! By leaving that boar to live, we might have secured a lifeline for a fellow wolf or fox. Geralt look around you; mushrooms, flowers, these thick leaves, those berries? You see that tree there? At its roots there are nuts, and over there? Those flowers? Means there is garlic. The forest will feed us with ease if we simply care to drop our weapons, and look.”

Geralt looked at you and with soft eyes, he took in the way your eyes burned with passion, the way your chest rose and fell with every energized breath. He looked around you and really looked at the plants around him, beyond scanning for any toxic or dangerous herbs, he did his best to see the forest through your bright eyes.

Looking at you he felt his chest swell once more, but this time the feeling was warm, grounding.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said quietly, pulling you into his arms, “so, so much.”

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. You knew he loved you. You had known for months, but you’d made peace with the fact that he loved you however he could, and that that would have to be enough, even if it meant you wouldn’t hear him say it.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet dove,” you murmured, reaching up to lay a soft kiss on his forehead, “I love you too.”

Geralt was wrenched from his thoughts by a swift kick to his shin, courtesy of the bard.

“Shhht!! Geralt!” Jaskier shout-whispered, still kicking at the witcher’s shins. “A deer! A d- dinner! Food! Geralt!”

Side-stepping out of the bard’s frantic little kicks, Geralt looked around him in a quick movement, spotting the deer with his hand primed above his sword’s hilt.

The world seemed to go quiet and still when his eyes met the doe’s. Despite himself, he could hear your voice in his head telling him that she’s a young, vibrant member of this forest’s population. That at her age, she’s likely a first-time mom or about to be. That she has more life to live and more to give to the land than be a poor man’s meal.

Jaskier watched in hungry-horror as Geralt waved his large hand at the creature, turning his back to it before looking down to meet his shell-shocked gaze.

“What the fuck, Geralt!” he spat, “what happened to “Y/N would kill me if I let Jaskier die”? What the fuck! That was food! Survival!”

“You’ll be fine Jask, shut up and lay in your grass.”

“As long as you don’t make me eat it.” He grumbled, not quietly enough.

A laugh rumbled through him as he walked towards to forest line, spotting thick dandelion leaves, mushrooms, and bushes ripe with nuts. He might not necessarily need to feed Jaskier the grass beneath his feet, but he was going to make him eat his words.

***********************************************************************************

“There you are my intrepid explorers!” You damn near squealed at the sight of them, dropping your basket of recently-purchased produce as you ran towards them.

At the sight of you, Geralt dismounts and runs to meet you in a tight embrace. You hold each other tightly, breathing in each other’s scent; his cedar, damp earth, and cut grass, and yours sweet almond.

You pull back just enough to look him over quickly and, spotting no fresh injury or new scars, pull your brows together curiously.

“Did you get lost?”

“Not at all,” replied Jaskier, clapping Geralt on the shoulder, “You’d be impressed, madam Y/N! Our dear witcher made quite the feast. Pulled me right out of the greedy jaws of death, he did!”

“Oh?” You said, brows furrowed in a silent question. Knowing what you meant, Geralt shook his head and kissed your temple to reassure you.

“Picture me this, Y/N,” Jaskier mused as he untacked his gelding, “I’m wilting away, inches from Death’s grip, and Geralt sweeps me under a lush canopy of trees and lays me in the grass…”

“Lays him in the grass? Should I be jealous?” you whispered.

“Never my love,” he replied softly, his forehead against yours.

“… then our honorable friend bid the deer a fond farewell, letting him get away! Yes, Y/N, there I lay, starving, thinking the sun must have cooked the sense right out of him when he marches out of sight only to emerge moments later with a bounty!”

“A bounty?” you mock-gasp, egging the bard on to Geralt’s great displeasure.

“Yes! We ate like kings in that forest, Y/N. All we did was eat but I felt hydrated and renewed! Truly a culinary delight.”

“A delight, Geralt!” you giggled, giving his waist a squeeze.

“Gods, won’t he ever shut up?” he grumbled, ghost of a blush creeping up his collar.

“Oh hush, my love,” you cooed, “without Jask’s bragging, I’d have never known what a big softy you’ve become.”

Wordlessly, Geralt looked down at you in mock-contempt, unsure that this wasn’t a veiled insult. He was instantly reassured though, when his eyes met yours.

“You left the deer.”

“I did.”

“And you foraged, found just what you needed.” You spoke softly, admiration and love rounding your features out beautifully.

“That’s right.”

“Now where did you pick up skills like that, my dove?” You chanced another tease, twirling a lock of his white, dust-packed hair around a finger before giving it a light tug, your head cocked to the side.

“Oh, I had an exceptional teacher…” he said, wrapping an arm tightly around your waist and bringing his other hand up to cup your face, pulling into a deep kiss.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher x reader #the witcher fandom #geralt of rivera #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #Jaskier #fanfiction #fanfiction requests #fanfic #geralt imagine #anon

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lorenzobane · 3 years

Text

Harebrained Scheme

AN: Written for @trektober-challenge first installment- namely Prime Directive, but more specifically inspired by some of @fractal-baby discussion about Spock’s absolutely insane plans. It was written pretty quick and definitely playing fast and loose with timelines, but set after ST:ID but before ST: Beyond. Can be read as pre-Spirk, but the major relationship is Jim & Sarek chatting.

Can be found on AO3 here

Being kidnapped and held with his First Officer’s father was never exactly the plan for Jim. There are, in fact, a lot of people Jim would rather be kidnapped with. Namely, the aforementioned First Officer Spock.

But as it stands--

“We have been held here for approximately 2.3 hours,” Sarek says after a moment of silence.

Jim nods, “don’t panic.”

Sarek gives him a look that plainly says Vulcans don’t panic. “I am simply stating a fact of our capture.”

“Yes, sir,” Jim says patiently. “I’m aware of how long it has been.”

“The temperature is several degrees below Vulcan standard,” Sarek pointed out.

“I am aware of that as well,” because Jim was. Whoever their enemies were, they knew who they had kidnapped. The temperature is holding steady at a place where Jim is uncomfortable but is draining Sarek.

Sarek says nothing and continues to observe the cell around them calmly. Jim has been pacing since he woke up about an hour ago. It’s a plain white room with no windows and no doors as far as he can tell. He’s tried clawing at just about every inch of the sterile space, and as far as he can tell, nothing gives.

“What are the walls made of?” Kirk mutters to himself. They don’t feel like metal or even plastic- they radiate the coolness as if they’re some type of natural product, but the way the room is sealed tells him some kind of technology is involved.

Sarek cuts into Jim’s thinking with a, “I believe these are made of Betazoid limestone.”

“What makes you say that?” Jim asks. With Spock, he’ll usually prattle for a few minutes, discussing density and texture before giving him an answer as straightforward as his father.

Sarek looks at him in surprise, “you are not able to tell?”

Jim resists the urge to reply with sarcasm. Sarek isn’t Spock, which is plainly apparent in every interaction they have. Though Spock always seems extremely calm and balanced to Jim, being around his father makes Jim aware of how much more emotion and variation Spock regularly expresses.

“No,” Jim says. “I haven’t spent much time on Betazoid.”

Sarek nods, “I was briefly an Ambassador there in my son’s youth. He was very fond of the rock and found its cool texture pleasing.”

“I thought it would be illogical to find a rock pleasing,” Jim replies without thinking.

Sarek is quiet for a moment before responding with, “yes, indeed it was. However, as my wife put it to me then, there is nothing illogical about curiosity. The desire to explore. I am not sure I agree with her, but I have never been successful in curbing my son of any habit he does not wish to break.”

“He can be stubborn,” Jim replies with amusement.

A mild understatement if Jim has ever said one. Though he is always respectful and never veers into full-on insubordination, Jim now understands what Pike meant when he referred to Spock fondly as an ‘extremely independent First Officer.’ Jim doesn’t mind it, maybe even loves it- the way Spock is relentless when he is convinced of the correct course of action. The argumentative (logically debated, in Spock’s words) messages and memos coming at all hours until Jim either gives in or says the phrase, “drop it, that’s an order.”

Which, at the very least, shuts him up for a shift or two.

“Do you believe they will be able to find us?”

Jim shrugs, his communicator is still on his person, and he tries it every few minutes, but he keeps getting static. “None of my messages are going through, but as you mentioned, your son is very stubborn and an extraordinary Starfleet officer. If anyone could rescue us, it would be him.”

Sarek nods again, and they sit in silence while Jim continues to search every square inch of space. It doesn’t make sense- unless their captors beamed them into the room, there is no way for them to have entered without a door of any kind.

“My son,” Sarek says, somewhat awkwardly pulling Jim out of his observation of the walls once more. “How is he-- I mean to say, I recognize as one of the very few Vulcans at Starfleet, and now as an endangered species, it may be challenging for him.”

Jim kindly doesn’t say that Sarek didn’t actually ask a question and responds with, “the crew loves him. He fits in great and has a surprising number of friends. The kids in the Science department all think he’s some type of rock star. The amount of transfer requests I get specifically for his division is getting out of hand.”

“Rock star?” Sarek repeats back.

“A term for an old Terran classical musician who was known for extreme popularity,” Jim responds with some curiosity. Spock is exceptionally familiar with Terran classical music and had known precisely what Jim had meant when he used similar phrasing. Still, Jim supposes that perhaps he picked it up in his many years on earth.

“I am gratified to hear this,” Sarek replies, somewhat slowly. Jim jerks up, alarmed, when he realizes that it appears that each blink is getting slower and slower as if he were fighting falling asleep. “He has so few affiliates on Vulcan.”

“Really?” Jim asks, surprised.

For all Spock can be logical, sarcastic, and moralistic to the point of exhaustion, he’s also a kind friend, a shockingly understanding commanding officer, and a good sport about most things. He even participates in some ship-wide events, like the talent show where he played some genuinely excellent Vulcan lute.

And purely for Jim’s amusement, played a lute version of a truly ancient Terran classic that Jim has a soft spot for, Wildest Dreams.

“He… Was an unusually brilliant student,” Sarek says, still slow as if fighting for words. Jim realizes with an urgency that he should probably try to keep Sarek talking to keep him awake.

“Vulcans didn’t like brilliant students?” Jim asks with amusement. The idea of Spock being a nerd among nerds is somewhat hilarious.

“No, they did not like an unusually brilliant half-human,” Sarek replies, his voice for the first time that Jim has ever known him touching with a hint of sadness. “And he was… Willful. Unusually brilliant, and ferociously unselfconscious about his mother.”

Jim laughs a little at that, rubbing his neck unconsciously, “yes, I definitely learned the hard way that you shouldn’t insult his mother.”

“As did many,” Sarek says, his eyes closed. “He had a violent physical altercation when he was eleven for a similar reason. It was that disrespect of his mother that ultimately caused him to turn away from the Vulcan Science Academy.”

“He didn’t go to VSA because they insulted his mother?” Jim asked, surprised. “Why would they insult Amanda anyway?”

Sarek takes a sharp breath at the casual use of his wife’s name, and Jim feels terrible. After months of playing chess with Spock, they had begun discussing their childhood and Spock often spoke of his mother glowingly. He had insisted that they use her name to honor her memory.

“They referred to her blood as a disadvantage. I knew the moment they said it; he would never accept a place that looks down on humans. He could be illogically loyal.”

“His illogical loyal behavior saved you on Vulcan, and it saved earth,” Jim replies, his voice sharper than he intends it to be.

Sarek opens his eyes at that, slowly and blearily, “I did not mean that negatively. I have come to find that many of the traits I viewed as… Aberration in him, in his youth, has come to define his tremendous successes.”

Jim doesn’t say, though he dearly wants to, that viewing his child’s personality as an aberration at any point is pretty illogical. Still, Spock is a subject that Sarek is willing to stay awake and speak about, so Jim asks, “like what?”

“Well,” Sarek says wryly, “his disregard for rules he simply disagrees with. It is, presumably, the reason that he works so well with you and your idiosyncratic leadership style.”

“I would not say that Spock isn’t interested in the rules,” Jim replies with surprise, the betrayal of Spock’s report after they saved him from a volcano still kind of stings.

“He follows the rules he believes in avidly, that is true,” Sarek says, his voice does hold amusement now. “But he regularly ignores them if he wishes to. I presume you are referring to his report after the events of Nibiru?”

Jim jerked in surprise, “how did you know--?”

“My son and I have been keeping close correspondence after the destruction of Vulcan and the loss of his mother. We are attempting to… work through the strain our relationship was put under while I worked through my disappointment that he did not go to the Vulcan Science Academy.”

“Isn’t disappointment illogical too?” Jim asks. It is hard for him to hear the casual way Sarek describes his feelings towards Spock when Jim truly and completely believes that his First Officer is one of the finest beings he has ever encountered.

Sarek makes a noise of agreement, “you are correct. Vulcans may take a vow to control our emotions, and we certainly may attempt to utilize logic in most decision-making. Still, there is no doubt that our species can be vulnerable to prideful behavior.”

Jim, having beaten Spock at chess a few times, can attest to that.

“What did he say about Nibiru?” Jim asks, curious now as to how Spock described the events to his father.

“I believe,” Sarek says again, his voice rich with amusement now, “that you saw yourself as the rule breaker in this scenario. However, after listening to his entire recounting, I must ask you- whose idea was it to freeze the volcano?”

Jim looked at Sarek blankly, “Spock’s. He had been reviewing the geothermal events on the plant. He calculated the likelihood of explosion was incredibly likely, so he asked if he could try one of his experiments to save the planet.”

“You realize that the plan itself, from its initial conception, violated the Prime Directive, do you not, Mr. Kirk?”

Jim looked at Sarek blankly, “what?”

“It is against the Prime Directive to interfere with a planet’s destiny in any way. Then, the matter of his cold fusion device. An entirely novel invention that had gone through no formal testing, no review process… He simply believed it would work, conducted experiments in his free time, and wanted to use it. And had a captain who trusted him.”

Jim blinks again at Sarek. “But… But…”

Sarek leaned his head back, “do not feel bad. He was somewhat infamous for this when he was a boy. His capacity to convince his instructors that his personal pet projects were highly logical and beneficial regardless of external forces was… Remarkable. And in you, I think he has finally found a place where his prodigious intellect is not being checked by constant regulation.”

“Spock always follows regulation,” Jim defends on instinct, his mind reeling.

“He always follows the ones he believes deserve to be followed,” Sarek corrected. “He has always had a somewhat unusual penchant for attempting novel actions without the traditional Vulcan tendency of deep contemplation.”

Oh, the thought hit Jim suddenly. Spock is a Vulcan bad boy. Jim doesn’t know why he finds that so shocking; Spock does, after all, go along with a majority of his plans and even comes up with half of them. Even more damning, if Spock did not agree with a course of action, it relatively rarely ends up occurring.

Which means… Spock is actually as goddamn reckless as he is.

Jim isn’t sure how he feels about this revelation.

“He... He tricked me!” Jim cries out eventually, unable to contain it.

“But as I have said,” Sarek adds, his voice is shallow and slow now, “I have come to realize… These qualities, his capacity for creativity, and quick thinking have allowed him to become the most remarkable of us.”

“I’m glad that you could see what we have always seen,” Jim says, though he’s more using the royal “we.”

It took him considerably longer to see what was right there in front of him, but once he had, it made sense to Jim that Spock had been a popular professor, First Officer, and Advisor in his time at Starfleet.

“I was unwilling to admit it, but I was worried when he chose Starfleet. So far from his people, alone and living in an abundance of difference. Vulcans can be quite homogeneous.”

“Infinite diversity in infinite combinations,” Jim quoted from Spock’s eternal sermons.

“Ironic that it is a Vulcan philosophy when so many of us view the world so similarly,” Sarek said, inclining his head slightly. “However, in a land of difference, he was able to find a space for himself that he was unable to find with his people. He always did appreciate adventure, read illogical books with his mother like Alice in Wonderland and Sherlock Holmes. Even Shakespeare which his instructors on Vulcan never enjoyed.”

Jim raised his eyebrows again. Spock often quoted fanciful literary classics in trying situations. Still, it never entirely occurred to him how oddly poetic and even artistic that would have made him in a different place.

“I hope he knows that I hold him in high regard,” Sarek says after a moment, and his eyes drift shut again, his breathing going slow.

“No,” Jim leaps up. “No, you can’t. I can not be responsible for the death of two of Spock’s parents.”

“Captain Kirk,” Sarek says with exhaustion, “do not worry. I can place my body into a healing trance that will allow me to remain stable for an extended period of time if need be. The Betazoid limestone will make us challenging to track and as such--”

Just then, there is a loud thudding noise on the wall to their right, like something heavy just rammed into it at full speed.

A thudding again, and then Sarek shudders awake, “Spock?”

Jim doesn’t hear anything but Sarek does because he turns to Jim and says, “please move 3.87 feet to your left.”

Three seconds later, a thud outside the wall gives way to what appears to be an ancient wrecking ball.

“What is that?”

“I think it is your crew, Captain,” Sarek says.

Another beat and a large stone crash through the wall using a device that is an ancient Terran wrecking ball.

“Captain,” Spock said calmly through the hole he just blasted through the wall. “I see you’re unharmed. Father, it is gratifying to see you safe as well.”

“Glad you got to us in time; we were running out of gossip about you,” Jim says with a smirk as he slowly starts to try to clamber through the slightly too small hole.

“Please refrain from joking,” Spock says, guiding his father through the hole much more gracefully.

“Who’s joking?” Jim replies.

Spock looks to his father with an eyebrow up, and Sarek responds, “while I would not term it “gossip,” the captain is correct, and our mutual affiliation with you helped pass a majority of the time.”

Jim nearly cackles at the brief look of horror that passed over Spock’s face when he replies with a steady, “indeed.”

Jim smirks and is silent while Spock focuses on calling the Enterprise to beam up.

And much later, when Spock asks him what they discussed while Spock and Jim played their usual game of chess, Jim can be entirely honest when he says, “your many admirable qualities.”

It’s definitely worth the way Spock’s ears turn a light green.

#trektober2021 #star trek #aos star trek #aos spock #spock #AOS Kirk #james t kirk #ambassador sarek #i intended this to be pre-spirk #but can be read as gen

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ectonurites · 3 years

Note

Two Jason Todd things I don’t understand being widespread fanon are Jason smoking after he comes back to life, considering it would cause health problems that would interfere with his mission and also that he died of smoke inhalation, and the autopsy scar thing. Like, I’m pretty sure the Lazarus Pit would heal that right?

Oh yeah mood on both of those

Especially considering his mom just stood there smoking as she watched him get beaten, combined with the things you brought up, I think he’d actively avoid it. It was also only something he’d really been shown doing in canon before becoming Robin if I’m recalling correctly, anyways. (edit: He is shown sneaking a cigarette in a flashback portion of the story in Gotham Knights #43-45 that retroactively fits into his time as Robin, but that is the only time he's actually shown smoking after becoming Robin that I'm aware of)

(Batman #427)

Then while the autopsy scar I think is... appealing in a lot of ways, and I understand the angst potential etc and why people like it.... it literally just wouldn’t be there for multiple reasons, depending on which version of canon we’re talking about.

Pre-Reboot like... The way I understand it... Jason’s ‘resurrection’ is more so that he was restored to the way he’d have been if he hadn’t died at the moment he did. Superboy Prime’s punch ‘righted the wrong’ of his death and restored him to life, because that’s what should have happened. Something like scars from an autopsy that would have been performed after he died would have disappeared as part of this magic stuff that un-did the decomposition and restored him to his previous state, before a Lazarus Pit even got involved.

(Batman Annual #25)

That’s why when he wakes up he’s still got all the injuries from when the Joker beat him, because his body was returned to that state, essentially un-doing the death rather than just healing the dead body (but not undoing the history of it having happened, obviously.) The people who find him and treat him at the hospital talk about how his body still shows all the injuries, and they talk about them as if his condition indicates those things happened recently and he was buried alive right after:

(Batman Annual #25)

And even if somehow he’d still had the autopsy scar with this stuff in mind, which I don’t really see how he could have unless i’m misunderstanding something, the pit definitely would have healed it like you said.

In New 52 and on canon we have less details about the exact nature of his resurrection beyond the involvement of the pit, so I can’t say with quite the same level of certainty if he could have had one going into the pit or not. But again, the pit heals things like that.

As much as I hate to give Scott Lobdell credit for anything, his All-Caste bullshit did give Jason some magic tattoos that only sometimes show up that are vaguely in the shape/placement of autopsy scars as sort of a call-back to the idea, which I think is the closest anything in canon will ever get to it:

(Red Hood and the Outlaws (2011) #5)

But yeah like, it’s a fun idea and again I totally get why people like it (looks cool, themes of death, physical reminders he died, etc) and I do enjoy it from time to time (thinks... about all the very sexy Nick Robles Jason art with it...) but logistically especially for Pre-New 52 it just doesn’t make sense. Since the nature of his resurrection has not been explained in as much detail since The New 52 you could probably fudge the details to make it work a bit better there, but still.

#Anonymous

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sokayisaidiot · 3 years

Text

Dream SMP assumption #2

Today’s topic: What does Character Tommy have?

Please DO NOT read if you’re uncomfortable with the themes of death, depression and suicide. It’s a very complicated theme. I did NOT study it and do NOT know some aspects of it. I just go off the things I saw in the smp and made my own theories about it. If you’re even slightly triggered by this, please stop and do NOT try to read it. Please do NOT put yourself in some kind of uncomfortable zone. Please do not. Thank you

(This is all assumptioning from the fictional world of dream smp)

(Heavy spoilers on the resent events)

(Mainly around the lmanburg way, sadly need to learn more about badlands ): )

(This Series is created by another person, that’s just too fuckin lazy to move her butt)

Trigger warning today:

Suicide thoughts

PTSD

Depression

Child Neglect

Betrayal and Trust Issues

Death

Character Tommy’s Mental state in the last time? Terrible. But why does he goes so fast to the way of suicide? Well, maybe all the repressed Feelings, he had since a long time. For that I researched the signs for some of the points Depression

The main symptoms are:

depressed mood, sadness, depression = the start of the streams being completely sad, his quick Mood changes

Disinterest and joylessness = The disinterest coming with getting hurt and not really doing anything against it, with each visit he's getting, his joy gets smaller

Loss of drive and easy fatigue = Relying more on Plans he made

Side symptoms can include the following symptoms:

Loss of appetite = saying he has no appetite, when he clearly does

sleep disorders = Having Nightmares, sleep walking or completely not being able to sleep

Difficulty concentrating making decisions = Almost burning his compass, destroying part of the nether Bridge, less concentrating while mining

low self esteem = thinking to himself how he deserves the pain sometimes

You see my points of his Depression, he makes up ALL of those Points. His Depression came as easily at the start of his second exile.

PTSD

There are 4 Categories to diagnose PTSD

Exposed to actual or threatened Death, serious Injury

Psychological Stress (Flashback/Dreams)

Changes in Psychological Stability

Changes in Physical Ability

1. Exposure to actual or threatened Death.

There are three ways of getting the first one.

Directly experience a traumatic event

Witnessing in person a traumatic event

Learning of an traumatic event from a close friend/family member

The first one itself is the fighting and betrayal. The fighting for Lmanburg and the Duel with Dream on the Prime Path that took presumably his first two lives. The Betrayal of his close friends and ending in killing him. Mostly Eret in the start, with Dream switching sides again in the middle of the fight fo Lmanburg and Wilbur and Technoblade going against him. Wanting him to die.

Not only did Tommy witness one Death, the Death of his older Brother, Mentor Wilbur. No he also witnessed the Death of his big Role Model Jschlatt. Of course he wasn't big in the end. But he WAS a Big Figure in Tommy's Life. He saw both of them accuse and killing them completely. But the time he witnessed People getting killed and losing one of their hearts. He saw the death of his best friend Tubbo (his own execution). Also did Tommy witness Wilbur going insane and haunting him. Telling him he will never achieve him and betraying him in the end. And the teenager was there, when the nation blew up, he had to run to safety, for not being blown up.

Then he learns of his pets death, his close pets he loves. The third Criteria kinda.

2. Psychological Stress (Flashback/Dreams).

At least on of the 4 Categories have to be hit.

Unwanted Memories

Having Dreams Related to the Trauma

Psychological Distress when exposed to cues that remind you of the evebt

Psychological Reactions to those same cues

He stated as he talked to Ghostbur, that he can clearly remember when Tubbo got president and blew up the nation they FOUGHT for. Also was it shown, how he can remember every Bad thing clearly. And when Wilbur told Tommy how he never could be President, Tommy took it really bad. Wilbur meant how they would never listen to Tommy and just hold him for a joke. So he ultimately gave up his President role. Not only for his discs presumably.

Its canon that Tommy has nightmares of Wilbur going insane. He was alone with Wilbur. Exiled. Wilbur wanted to drag Tommy with him in insanity and Tommy did everything to not let that happen (and you guys have to think. Wilbur is canonically Tommys older Brother so he did already had an impact on Tommys life). He can't sleep or just sleep walks himself into the ocean. Every time going deeper and deeper. In the direction of L’manburg, also his ultimate Death.

To the last two points: Tommy, when he gave Lani, (Tubbos sister), a walk through Dream Smp, he said that the Pit in Pogtopia made him feel very uncomfortable, since the memories of getting beaten up by Technoblade, just after he killed Tubbo, were not old. Also, they forbid Rockets and TNT, since they were big part of killing or just destroying things he loved.

3. Changes in Psychological Stability.

There are 7 Points you have to fulfill, 2 of them are required and Tommy HAS 6 POINTS OF THEM

Briefly explained:

He blames mostly himself and others how things go wrong in the last time. Mostly Technoblade for placing the withers, triggering some big amounts of TNT. His friends for not visiting. Himself for not being perfect.

Thinking to himself how he couldn't be happy only with massive influence of others or talking to himself how he would do something that might make him happy.

He feels himself detached from everybody. Thinking how everybody could easily life on without him. So he detaches himself from talking TO PEOPLE. Stopping showing up anymore. Only after a while, he trusted himself, but with the time he does it slower.

His favorite hobbies not really being done anymore. As for saying he doesn't start to care for Primes anymore.

Telling himself how everybody is doing things out of pity for him. His lack in trust others in fear of being betrayed. That everybody is out against him.

His fear of being completely abandoned by the People he has left. His Anger for not coming to visit and just giving his gift or leaving him alone. Shame on being exiled by his best friend and the second time.

4. Changes in Physical Ability

The three points are (which upwards are already explained):

Problems with concentration = him not really able to think straight while mining

Problems with Sleep = Nightmares, sleep walking, not being really able to rest completely

Easy to Startle = startled with People surprisingly coming to his island without saying things. He gets more surprised and jumpy

(This is all seen by “The Film Theorists”, “Film Theory: The Spiderman 2 Mystery! Why Spiderman Lost his Powers!”)

He has many, way too many criteria for being so young. And he won't get any help. A way of getting better is having time to yourself. But Tommy is alone in Exile? Why is it just getting worse? Well, Tommy has time to himself. But he constantly gets watched over. He gets only worse through the manipulation of Dream.

Betrayal and Trust Issues

People are getting angry at Tommy for not trusting others. But what would have you done in his position. I mean nobody could have known about the Betrayal of Eret. So when that happened we were all in shock. When Dream switched sides to fight for Marburg, we were all shocked. When Wilbur was the Traitor and blew up L’manburg, we were also shocked. When Techno kind of told Tommy he should die and Placed Withers, we were shocked. When Tubbo exiled Tommy, nobody had expected that and everybody was shocked.

Now look at it from Tommys eyes.

Eret = A good friend, nice companion, trusted part of the rebellion. Betrayed them for seeing a better deal, leaving them to rot, while he had his castle.

Dream = Kind of older Brother, funny to be around and spends also time with him. Gives your already insane Brother Dynamite to explode the country you fought Tooth and Nail for and tosses you around like a doll.

Wilbur = Older Brother, Mentor, President, cool, awesome to be around, talented, someone who also spends time with you. kind of protects you from trouble. Goes insane, wants to drag you with him, explodes the country, betrays you for not having a thing he wants. Makes you doubt yourself

Technoblade = Also really talented. Big Brother. Teaches things like fighting. One of the best PVPers. Leaves you to rot and fight with the last bit, makes fun of you and not helping you, even if you are scared of small spaces.

Tubbo = The Person you did everything with, trusted with everything. You are like Brothers and no matter how many people against you, you are with each other. You make one thing for yourself and apparently you are selfish. You are alone now and he didn't come ones to visit once.

Everybody else = They find you annoying and only come to visit to make fun, look at him like he's a Zoo animal. but when something happens, then he is a hero apparently. And those pity gifts. Gifts saying he is on the lowest of the low, in need of “help”.

Help is right for you, but more like spending time with you when you're alone, and not being able to visit others. They act like they can visit him any time, because, hey look! He can't go anywhere anyways, so...

A Way of getting better is

Repairing the broken or damaged relationships = Talking and doing something with Tubbo, his best friend. Talking and making up with his brothers Techno and Wilbur. Spending time with his father. Just relaxing and letting him talk about his trauma.

Doing something he really wanted to do for some time = Finally getting his discs back, which were stolen and in constant danger, since its one of his most prized things

Letting him be his age = He is pretty young, but went to be a right hand man, made sacrifices, losing his lives for the country, his friends and other things. Letting him act his age, doing stupid things and not giving him consequences that would be given only people who are the worst kind. Letting him build his stuff with good arguments and letting him hang out. Not being Vice President maybe.

Putting himself over everything for once = Thats really a good discussable theme, but for my points, which I made with letting him be his age, it kind of stated it already. He wanted his discs after everything. The wars were won, L’manburg had its Freedom and its People safe. So he should have been allowed to do one thing for himself again. Burning Georges House is no excuse, but dude, thats easily reparable. The Trauma, Depression and PTSD that was given to this child not.

It also can fit in with Tubbo- Just sayin (Just some points have to be changed)

GIVE THOSE KIDS A BREAK

I got some of those things from other Posts!

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prettybirdy979 · 3 years

Text

March Flash Fic: Making plans (GO: Aziraphale/Crowley)

Prompt is from the Ace Omens Discord where a flash fic prompt is being given every weekday for the month of March. But do feel free to send me any prompts. More of my fics here

For context (I promise it makes sense in a sec) from here:

‘Breaking into a Heavenly defended fort of Hell was a stupid plan,’ Gabriel says with a shake of his head, ‘but what you did next was just downright idiotic.’ He continues shaking his head while Beezlebub just glares at Crowley.

Ze looks bored, but in an aggressive way. Crowley is a little screwed.

Would be a little screwed. He’s not though. He’s cool.

‘I thought it was a stroke of genius,’ Crowley says. He pulls at his bonds for the show of it, drinking in the pleasure of making Gabriel snarl and Beezlebub roll their eyes.

‘You were prancing around like a fool before we put the spotlight on you and then you started dancing even worse once we put it on you. In what world is that a stroke of genius?’

Michael marches in before Crowley can reply, dragging Aziraphale along with her. He’s in fine form, complaining like only a middle aged, upset and white male appearing being can. The sort of complaining that is only beaten by a true Karen in their prime - and that only because Aziraphale cannot bring himself to swoop that low, even for this lot.

‘Found this hanging around outside,’ Michael says with disdain, throwing Aziraphale down to fall beside Crowley’s chair. ‘Was trying to get into the breakroom.’

Crowley glares at Aziraphale who mouths ‘I was peckish!’ back at him.

Rolling his eyes, Crowley grins up at their captors. ‘You are all so stupid,’ he wheezes, letting the laughter he’s been holding off out.

They all stiffen as one, the pair of angels then stiffening further at the realisation they did something the same as a demon.

‘You dare-’ Gabriel begins.

Crowley cuts him off. ‘You know when we were making plans for this heist, Aziraphale gave you so much credit. Thought you’d see through this at least by now.’

‘My dear, I said around now. Don’t try and get out of our bet.’

Crowley ignores Aziraphale’s blatant and completely false lies. ‘But look at you! All focused on the angel and the demon and completely uncaring of the half dozen humans we were working with.’

Everyone freezes. Crowley starts to cackle.

‘And now I have to ask. Who controls this base?’

It’s at that moment the alarms start to blare before suddenly, and somewhat finally, stop. As if a cursed human with technology issues had touched them.

‘If I were you,’ Aziraphale says, as the voices of the Them echo in the hallway outside, ‘I would run.’

#good omens #ineffable husbands #My Scribbles #My Story

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ka-writes · 3 years

Text

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Notes: haha I did a semi short chapter... sorry... also this is chapter 4 of my space AU..

ALSO READ THE DAMN WARNINGS. Thank you ☺️

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Incase you missed:

Chapter 1:

Chapter 2:

Chapter 3:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warning: Mentions of abuse (physical verbal and sexual) there aren’t any graphic recalls it is simply mentions. Mentions of being beaten up. Mentions of knives and blood. Threatening characters, and character pain. Again characters being trapped and not going home. Cussing. Characters passing out. Characters being distressed characters being malnourished. Yea I kinda was in an angsty mode sooo.... here you go..

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Ao3 link:

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“Humans are [Add text here]”

Chapter 4: I guess it qualifies as an introduction?

Phil wasn’t expecting to wake up at 4 in the morning to the sound of laughter.

It wouldn’t be the first time, definitely not the last.

Curiously the avian poked his head into his kids’ room. The laughter wasn’t coming from the gardener, guard, or scientist. The laughter was coming from the assistant who wasn’t in their room. Phil turned his attention down the hall. Sure enough the laughter was louder. Quietly he made his way to the holding cell. Phil sat in a smaller hallway and decided to listen into the conversation… What can he say? He always eavesdropped..

“What even is a you-tube?” The assistant asked through small giggles. To that the human gasped as if he was hurt by the statement.

“You don’t have YouTube?! Or like an alien version of it?!” The human replied, not even trying to hide his shock.

“Erm no?”

“Well it’s like this thing that humans use to make really cool videos and stuff.”

“What’s a video?” Ranboo interrupted.

“They’re kinda like moving photos that usually work as a sort of entertainment or info dump. I could probably tell you thousands of the times my stupid teacher made me watch ‘educational’ videos..”

“So they’re kinda like illusions?”

“Yea but you don’t see 'em in 3D. As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted..” The enderian let out a small squeak of embarrassment at that, “YouTube is like a thing people use to post videos on. I am totally making an alien version of YouTube when I get out.” The air stiffened at that.

“Tommy.. you probably won’t get out for a while…” Ranboo said, Phil heard one of them shift and the entire atmosphere lost it’s warmth, “It’s not like you won’t get out! It’s just hard… especially when no one really trusts you yet.” Ranboo swallowed, as he usually does when he is uncomfortable, “Even when we let you out of the holding cell.. you probably won’t be allowed off the ship. It’s too dangerous for all of us..” the two fell into a deafening silence. Phil shivered at the tension, making sure to be silent while doing so.

“I assumed as much…” the human started, being the first to break the silence, “I-I… I guess I won’t be going home either… since the ISF absolutely hates us.. plus like you said, only already crazy humans are sent back..” the human sighed sadly.. For the first time Phil felt sympathetic towards a human. With that he decided it was time to start on breakfast.

——————

Three things happened after Tubbo woke up.

One, Ranboo passed out at the table. Phil simply shook his head and picked up the enderian with some unknown strength to the rest of the crew.

Two, a scream was heard from the other side of the ship, causing Wilbur to frantically run to the holding cell.

Three, Techno put his milk in before he poured his tea… I mean who does that?

Ignoring the last strange thing, Tubbo went to check on Ranboo. He was fine, so Phil said. “He only needs rest. Leave them be.” Was what Tubbo got as he peered into the enderian’s room. Shrugging off the weird behavior Tubbo made his way to the garden.

Before he made his way to the garden he noticed the human wasn’t in the holding cell. That meant he was probably in the lab… Which meant Tubbo would have to meet him.. Oh prime no. That’s not gonna happen.

He started sprinting to the garden. It was just passed the lab if only he took another step-

“Tubbo, I need your help.” Wilbur said from behind him. The droneling turned around reluctantly. Holding his breath he made his way into the medical part of the lab.

[gore and distressed characters, skim if you need to]

There, laying on the bed, was a human. He held back a scream which came out as a labored gasp. Sweat was bubbling on his forehead. With that he turned to Wilbur who examined the human from a distance.

“Go get some bandages and the stitching kit.” Wilbur commanded. Without hesitation Tubbo ran to grab the items. Wilbur took both objects and disinfected a bad cut on the human’s arm. He hadn’t even realized there was a cut until Wilbur cleared off the strange red blood. Wilbur then proceeds to stitch the wound and bandage the irritated wound.

That’s when Tubbo noticed the amount of blood the human lost. Most species wouldn’t be able to handle that much blood loss, but here was the beast of the galaxy, completely fine in a matter of minutes after losing quite a bit of blood.

[End]

When Wilbur was satisfied, he picked the human up and carried him back to the holding cell. Tubbo was unable to stop himself from following. Before thinking the droneling sat at the table and watched as Wilbur finished cleaning the human.

“Er.. do you want me to grab Techno so you can stay in here?” Wilbur asked, noticing Tubbo sitting in the corner.

Without saying a word Tubbo gave a small nod. Wil didn’t push like he usually did and left to get Techno.

Tubbo got up and approached the sleeping human. He was skinnier than what Tubbo thought humans should be. There were odd dark circles under his eyes and his hair clearly hadn’t had a good wash for what looked like months. He had injuries over his body and was practically shaking in his sleep.

Since Tubbo was preoccupied, he barely noticed Techno enter, or the door closing. Let alone the clangs and thuds from other crew mates.

He was preoccupied by the strange human who was sleeping in front of him.

The human stirred and the droneling stumbled away.

After a few seconds the human sat up and looked at the now fallen droneling.

“What the fuck?”

——————

Tommy didn’t expect another alien to push their luck in his space. But here he was.

The alien was smaller than Tommy by a lot. Further proving Tommy was the biggest man. Unlike the other aliens this one wasn’t threatening upon first glance.

The one from last night had been way more intimidating at first. Being way taller than Tommy and having weird lanky limbs and magical purple glowing orbs surrounding them. They had horns and a half and half complexion. One half of the alien being white with grey and purple freckles along with a red eye. The other half being a purplish black with grey and green freckles along with a green eye. They wore a suit with a red tie and dress shoes. He also had two tails of the same colors as his complexion. All of this being forgotten after they stammered through their introduction. It was honestly hilarious.

This alien was very different from the others. They had brown messy hair, encasing black antennas and small black bumps that resembled horns. Their skin was a honey peach color and practically glistened. There were strange hexagon patterns over their face along with three black stripes on either side of their face. They had bee wings, which was the only thing Tommy could relate to the alien too. There was also a black fuzzy tail, similar to a stinger, poking out of their pants. Their hands were lanky and pointed, completely black. There was also soft yellow fuzz poking out of their sleeves and holes in their pants. They wore ripped jeans along with a long sleeved green button down shirt. Their eyes were another thing entirely, being a honey brown in certain light but could also shift to a greenish blue in other light. They had fly-like pupils.

After a minute of them sitting in an awkward stance the alien got up. Using their wings to properly position them in a standing position. They brushed themselves off and approached Tommy.

“You lay a finger on anyone here and I will kill you. Understand?” The alien said, any intimidation that was lost from the alien falling was regained in an instant. The alien poked him in the chest with one of the lanky fingers, which started burning like acid after a minute.

Since Tommy was too, sacred, poggers to move he simply nodded, which is absolutely the best response to the situation. Sadly the alien didn’t get the gesture and dug their nail into his chest even more. Seriously, it was starting to really burn.

“Y-yes.” Was all Tommy could muster. The alien was satisfied with the answer and let go of Tommy. They walked out of the now open door. Shortly after Techno followed the door closing behind him. Tommy never realized the other alien was in the room.

[Mentions of abuse]

For a split second the interaction reminded him of his dad.

The way his dad did the same thing to his mom when she didn’t listen.

Or when his sister didn’t follow his dad’s friend.

Or when Tommy made a mistake.

Except instead of a nail, it was glass, or a punch, or sometimes a knife…

[End]

He shook off the thoughts and reminded himself that the aliens weren’t his father, nor were they going to do that to him.

They wouldn’t do that right?.. Right?

Tommy slapped his face, only to find there were silent tears flowing down his cheeks. He quickly wiped his cheeks and continued his train of thought.

Tommy trusted too easily. That in the end is how at nine he ended up getting beat up in his first foster home. He condemned himself for trusting the aliens. They were strangers. He knew nothing of them and they knew more about him. This was the moment in which Tommy shut himself off. Where he regained the ability to leave his blind trusting instincts.

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Chapter 4- End

Words: 1633

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Notes: I didn’t know what to add next so I decided to leave you here. Your welcome! <3

Again hope you enjoyed! Now go eat food, drink water, take a shower if you haven’t, and go to sleep. Stay safe, love ya! <3

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Tubbo: *falls out of fear

Tommy: ._. This dude ain’t intimidating

Tubbo: *threatens Tommy

Tommy: ,:^ never mind then...

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Reminder likes are appreciated but reblogs are better!!

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#tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #my fanfic tag #my writing #wilbur soot #tubbo #ranboo #technoblade #philza #angst #reblog #;-;#space au

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faglaios · 3 years

Text

for real I Hated this chapter

It seems like Hori forgot that Endeavor did horrific things to his family, and feels like he even tried to show “some good in him” during the flashbacks. Endeavor doesn’t deserve a redemption, but this chapter really felt like Hori was trying to push it back into the story again. He’s really trying to convince the reader that Endeavor should have a redemption so much that even during the time when Touya was a child, the one that got it the worst, Endeavor seemed normal.

He’s smiling in this panel, it doesn’t seem scary or intimidating, he’s smiling at his excited to learn(which I’ll get back to) kid. He doesn’t look like he’s been described. Even if you say he’s not bad anymore(which I highly disagree to), he was still bad, his prime of bad, when he was first having kids. It’s shown how bad things were for Shouto when his quirk first developed, it was horrific and an unforgivable scene, but hori seems to forget it.

Things were horrible for Shouto, beaten and “trained” to the point of throwing up, to the point where he refused to use his own fire quirk because of the trauma wrapped around it.

Endeavor was not(and still isn’t) a good person, he has no reason to be redeemed. Yet hori is trying to and it’s insulting. This chapter the first page even seems like it’s trying to put endeavor in a good light, even when the narrative shows that he’s in the wrong.

It’s solemn, it makes it seem like endeavor was regretful when it happened despite having shown that he viewed touya as nothing more than a “regrettable case”. It’s trying to tell you that;

No, endeavor was good because his son was lost, that his son died and he must have grieved!

But he likely didn’t. By the time that touya “died”, he had already moved on to Shouto, there was no loss for him. Touya was already a failure, him being dead just meant he didn’t have to see him anymore, he didn’t have to face his first failure and he could focus on Shouto. And why would he grieve? Touya perished in a fire because of him, because he wouldn’t stop pushing him despite knowing that Touya’s body couldn’t handle it.

It wasn’t a mistake that he made, the reader now knows that Endeavor knew Touya couldn’t handle his quirk, he knew that Touya’s body burned when using it, it’s common sense that Touya would eventually succum to his flames if Endeavor didn’t stop pushing him.

Endeavor himself needs cool off time when using his quirk too much, but the difference between him and Touya is that Endeavors body is built to withstand it and Touya’s isn’t. Touya would’ve burned quickly and nearly every time he used his quirk in “training”, Endeavor would’ve seen it happening.

I’m going to talk about what I mentioned earlier now. Touya was, in all of today’s flashbacks, an excited to learn kid. He was excited, smiling in nearly every panel, the only time he seemed upset was when he first realized he burned his arm, but he was happy and comfortable enough that he even joked around with Endeavor.

He’s not concerned when Enveador asks him if he dyed his hair, frankly it doesn’t seem like Endeavor is upset with it, it just looks like he’s asking. But why? Why is it that in the flashbacks Endeavor seems like a normal, fine father? We know he wasn’t with Shouto, and since we technically hadn’t seen Endeavor hit Touya you could try reaching and say that he only started getting physical when he got to Shouto because of a few reasons. He’s stressed, thinking Shouto would be another failure and just started out with “training”. He’s relieved that finally a child is “working” like it should. But we know this isn’t true, it’s been implied, but we know now how hard Endeavor was on Touya.

We know because of this panel and because the fact that Touya died. So why didn’t Hori show it? Why depict Touya as excited, joking around with his father, ready to learn, and with no signs of abuse that we know was obviously there. Maybe you could say that the abuse hadn’t started yet, but that wouldn’t make sense. Endeavor abused Rei, he’s been abusive since the moment he bought her with the purpose to have children for a selfish and horrifying reason. But Touya isn’t depicted as anything other than a happy kid, even in the panel where it says that he died, he’s still smiling.

I think when you put a character through an arc of development you start to have trouble writing them the way they were introduced. When done right, that’s just not the character they are anymore. But it isn’t being done right. During the flashbacks he isn’t being shown as the man he was explained to be, he isn’t the man that Natsuo, Dabi, and Shouto despise. It doesn’t make sense and it’s bad writing. It makes it looks like Touya just couldn’t handle his quirk and died because of it, not because of Endeavor’s abuse and force to keep using it. The first lines are likely being said by him, just they sound mournful, like he cared. But it wouldn’t make sense for him to care.

Touya was only a failed plan A, why would he bother mourning when he had already moved on to a successful plan D?

Long story short; this chapter didn’t feel right to me. Endeavor in the flashbacks seemed too much like a normal father than the abusive monster he was and is. Touya seemed fine and it didn’t make sense to me and left me sort of disappointed and unsatisfied. I hope the future chapters have flashbacks from Dabi’s perspective and don’t try to make Endeavor seem like a good person even back then.

#THIS POST IS NOT FOR ENDEAVOR STANS FUCK YOU I FUCKING HATE YOU❤️#i dont think i got all my words right and i probably forgot a few things but here are my thoughts! didnt like it #bnha #bnha meta #bnha spoilers #dabi #shut up evan #long post

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filmwuju · 3 years

Text

[TRANS] Character Introduction: People around Seongyeom & Mijoo

Ki Jeongdo (Male, late 50s) Seongyeom's father / Four-term assemblyman

A politician who was an athlete. Back then, he was renowned as the nation's thief for snatching actress Yook Jiwoo, who was the nation's first love, at the prime of her youth. Rising to fame, he threw his hat into the political ring, as if he was waiting for this. Him moving into his wife's family home as a live-in son-in-law was also for the campaign fund.

Managing a family that can be recognized by citizens during elections was also Jeongdo's long time plan. As a man, Jiwoo was his trophy; and being the father of siblings who are national athletes, he was able to bear national sentiment. Seongyeom's home becoming a show window family was entirely Jeongdo's volition. Family means gathering together when needed and taking a harmonious photo, that's it. Just one is hard enough already, how incredible is it to raise two national representatives of South Korea? He regards fatherly love as an instinct, and thinks what he's doing to his children is true love. Not knowing that for the person receiving the unwanted love, that love can become violence.

He has always been privileged with vested rights, and since he's in the upper class, he always lived with pride. He has never doubted his capability of going higher, higher up. Most politicians are likewise, their final goal is running for the presidential election. And since they're running, naturally, they want to win. But Seongyeom, who used to be an obedient chess piece, keeps causing trouble. So he's contemplating on how to quash him.

Yook Jiwoo (Female, late 50s) Seongyeom's mother / Actress

A top actress hailed as the nation's first love. If there's Suzy in the 2000s, there was Yook Jiwoo in the 1980s. During the early days of her career, she went by the stage name Jiwoo, without the Yook, because her last name comes off as stubborn. This was her agency's policy. Later, Jiwoo saw her name on a movie poster and threw a huge fit. Since then, she goes by her full name that sounds stubborn for a "female" actor.

She's a perfect actress named as the Queen of Cannes; but she's a born actress who, in pursuit of her career, is far from even the letter M in the word "mother", much less be an excellent one.

Ki Eunbi (Female, 30) Seongyeom's sister / Pro golfer

She doesn't know how to love in an ordinary way, because she's never lived an ordinary life. The world's number one female golfer. With that title alone, men—regardless of their skin color—approached her, not knowing how Eunbi is like after falling in love. There are no exceptions—whether they have a strong build, or got a straightforward personality. By the time they realize how scary Ki Eunbi is not as the queen of golf, but as a lover, it's already too late—so accept your fate. Once she takes a bite, she does not let go until she gets sick of it. There's no place to escape unless you go to the edge of the world.

Of course there's an exception. When their love for her dies down, she lets go without hesitation. It was always easier to figure out separation than love. The same goes for her family. The time she spent with them in her whole life wouldn't amount to even one year because of her trips abroad. They always separated the moment they met, and she felt worried at the thought of Seongyeom, who would be alone in the huge house. My poor little brother. Their father, who likes to rank, compares them frequently; the media, who likes to chatter, bashes him regularly. My little brother Seongyeom. Seongyeom, whose sin is getting born as my little brother.

Of course she worked hard, but Eunbi's talent played a bigger part. Her sense of distance is more outstanding than others, and she's exceptional in controlling her strength. They said the only thing left for a first placer to do is to fall downwards, but Eunbi didn't know how to fall. If she didn't have talent, would it be a different story? While having these thoughts, she saw Seongyeom and thought, hmm.. it would be stressful to have no talent.

She's even sick of the first place now. Feeling bored, she was thinking whether she should retire and rest a bit, but her beloved little brother caused big trouble. What can I do? My little brother wants to do it. It's an older sister's duty to act as his shield, and I won't die from doing it for a few years more—so just for a bit longer, I'd have to stay in the first place for him.

Kim Wooshik (Male, 20) National track and field athlete

He lost his parents at a young age and was raised by his grandmother. Unlike someone his age, he believes in superstitions. But rather than saying he believes in them, it's more like he's familiar about life and is treated as a precocious child. His self-sufficient grandmother clothed him in cleanly washed clothes even though they're old, and did everything she can so that Wooshik can grow up as a bright and optimistic person. Wooshik, who grew up just like how she raised him to be, was perfectly kind and honest. He wasn't good at studying but he was smart; his hands were slow but his feet were fast. Naturally, Wooshik chose track and field. It was also a sport that he could do even with no money. He fell in love at first sight after watching Seongyeom's race, ran all the way with Seongyeom as his goal, and became a national athlete. It's his wish to run a relay race in the same competition with Seongyeom before the latter retires. No records or competition, just as Ki Seongyeom and Kim Wooshik.

He once saw a passage that said forgiveness is the biggest revenge. That's like saying the powerless can't do anything but to forgive. Ever since his days in sports high school, he experienced countless assaults and abuse under the force of power. And you say that's the biggest revenge? It was a day when he got beaten by his seniors as usual. He roughly wiped the blood from his nose using his sleeves. The superstitions Wooshik believed in were of no help at all in the face of reality. The one who offered Wooshik practical help was Seongyeom. He told him that forgiving is the victim's right. He told him that he doesn't need to forgive if he doesn't want to. As the only person who told him that, how could Wooshik not admire him.

Kwon Young-il (Male, 29) National track and field athlete

South Korea's track and field record holder. As the best sprinter, he lives up to his reputation of South Korea's No.1 track and field athlete who receives unconditional support from track and field fans. He's a narcissist who cares about nothing but himself, but takes an interest only in Seongyeom. It's because he's jealous. Whenever he's free, he picks a quarrel with the forever runner-up Seongyeom and ends up saying foolish words. I'm the real first placer, but why does it feel like I'm being pushed back by Ki Seongyeom every single time?

But still, as Seongyeom's long-time colleague, and as a sportsman, he's a friend who supports Seongyeom for the path he's going.

Kim Hyunjin (Male, early 40s) Assemblyman Ki Jeongdo's aide

Would there be another expression that puts a limit on Hyunjin as much as the phrase "aide by nature" does? However, he is a capable aide—to the level that everyone would agree in unison—who grasps everything about the Ki family, including Assemblyman Ki himself. He's machine-like, making one wonder if his heart is made of steel; he does not feel things like conscience and warmth.

Park May (Female, 35) CEO of imported film distributor May

Her name was originally Maehwi. Was it her dad's poor hearing, or her mom's poor pronunciation? Her dad, who heard Maehwi as May, registered her birth with the name "May". For a long time, her mom called her Maehwi and her dad called her May. To May, the actual party concerned, it didn't matter whatever they called her by. What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.

May believed in fundamental things. This was also due to her peaceful and cool nature; is it because of that? Entering a translation and interpreting university at the top of her class and finishing her studies in a graduate school of the same expertise, she was walking the so-called elite course. But then she set aside her career path and went into foreign film translation. The reason was simple. Because films are fun, but film festivals are freaking fun. She was in Busan when she first met Mijoo. At the Busan International Film Festival, which she skipped her class for, their sharing of the same bed at the guesthouse was the beginning of their relationship. After getting to know her, she found out that she's a distant junior of hers under the same department in their university. Mijoo was 21.

There is no bad Mijoo in this world. This is the pet theory of May as the dog owner of Mijoo. Mijoo—rough and clumsy, which makes her cute and pure too—was like a dog sometimes, she had no hesitations in baring her claws at arrogant things. From then on, May took it upon herself to be the dog owner. She was worried. If Mijoo meets a good person, it feels like she'd overcome her struggles and become extremely successful*, and if she meets a bad person, it feels like she'd get stabbed with a knife in the midst of selling drugs in a backstreet. All or nothing—Mijoo, who has no in between, didn't have a lot of things. She said she's never met a nice adult in her 20 years of life. Ah... I'm stuck. No choice, I'd have to be the nice adult for Mijoo, she decided**. Just like that, she spent around 10 years of time with her, as a senior and roommate.

She had more curiosity and energy before compared to now, but she feels no excitement nor interest in whatever she does these days. When she was young, she simply felt that her older seniors were cool, but now that she's at that age, she understood. There's just no fun in doing anything. She's done them all, tasted them all; the energy she used to pour out without reservation had been exhausted since long time ago.

Around that period of ennui in her life, an unsavory incident broke out in the translation industry she's been working in. She left translation behind and set up an imported film distributing company. As a small company that mainly imported independent films and art films, it involved a lot of legwork, so business trips is a norm. Her dream was to be a salaried employee for a lifetime, but why'd she become a CEO? CEOs like salaries too.. she didn't know of this fact until she became one herself. Is this, depressing? May, who was mentally healthy, immediately began her visits to the psychiatrist. Antidepressants help people who help themselves, and May wants to help herself properly. And since she's on it already, it's better to be bright and healthy.

T/N: * The idiom used in the original text is 개천에서 용 난다, which literally means "a dragon rises up from a creek." Often translated as "rags to riches," it is used to refer to someone from a humble background who overcame their hardships and became extremely successful.

** A longer translation that would more properly express the nuance of the original sentence would be: May decided that: I'm not the best choice, but since there's no one else to do it, there's no choice but for me, at least, to be the good adult for Mijoo.

(orig post link from writer Park Shihyun’s DC gallery post)

#run on #run on trans #run on kdrama #run on drama #runon #run on jtbc #jtbc run on #run on icons #jtbc #kdrama #korean drama

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thatgirlwritingficsatnight · 3 years

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Odi et Amo II

Odi et amo. Quare id faciam fortasse requiris? nescio, sed fieri sentio et excrucior

Catullus, 85

After a few years of working in the USA for Disney and playing the role of The White Fox in Marvel Cinematic Universe you came back to your motherland - Korea only to be greeted with hatred and contempt. To make things harder for you the universe sends you the most irritating neighbour ™. Will you be able to find your happiness and accomplish your dream of becoming loved actress in Korea without complying with standards of patriarchal society?

pairing: Park Jinyoung x reader

genre: actor au

warnings: angst, foul language (please don’t read it if you’re not old enough)

words: 5764

A/N: It was supposed to be published last week, but I was unhappy with it and ended up rewriting it/adding some things. Sorry! (*_ _)人 P.S Sorry for my grammatical errors! Enjoy!

Chapter I

***

Currently sitting in front of your manager you eyed him. He seemed tired and you felt a pang of conscience it was probably because of your tweets last night and you wouldn’t even think of meeting him if you weren’t in dire need of getaway from the uncomfortable conversation with your neighbor. You didn’t meet in your agency’s building since both of you despised the place even though it was a new and flashy building made out of something that looked like a white marble. Both of you agreed on meeting outside it, so you were sitting in the café nearby while wondering how did your shitty boss manage to rent it. Last time you’ve been here, it was a few rooms in shabby, old building. You shivered while imagining going in, that place had an evil aura even from across the street.

"Where did you get all that money to rent it?" you asked.

"We actually bought it."

"Well, business goes well then."

"Actually we are only able thanks to your movies. Don’t tell Kim Pd-nim I told you, he thinks you'll become arrogant."

"I already am." You smiled coldly.

"That's what I told him."

Your manager had a sarcastic smirk on. Both of you and hated your CEO and even mentioning him would bring up unpleasant memories. Kim Sanghoon was one of those bosses who wouldn't even think about trying to help idols and stars that were bringing him money. No matter what it was — crazy fans destroying your life, death threats, your collapsing mental health he didn’t care. Once you were attacked by media and netizens you were on your own and if it was too much for the company your contract was terminated. You often wondered when would you become too much for them to handle.

"How do you feel?" Your manager caught you off guard, even though you had known each other for a long time there was an unspoken rule between you not to talk about other things than work.

"Honesty..I'm fine I don't understand why everyone asks me that." You huffed a bit irritated and run fingers through your hair.

"Well it's just.. I know it was important to you and you worked hard to earn the hearts of your Korean fa..."

"I'm fine." you didn't manage to hide irritation in your voice. You were not used to talking about it and you didn't like it one bit. Besides what were you supposed to say anyway? No one else was as hated as you. Of course there were idols and stars that were occasionally criticized but not one of them was constantly a target of such hatred. Even when you left there were still death threats send from your motherland to you, nothing changed. Not to mention no one else got such welcoming on the day of return to their home. It was unfair, stupid, infuriating and saddening. And yet you couldn’t understand what people were expecting of you? Both Mark and your manager knew you, or so you thought. What were you supposed to do? Cry? You wouldn't cry, that was what weak people do, that would show you actually care about what those assholes think about you. You were just fine. Ok. Neither sad nor happy. You'd endure whatever you had to but you won't conform to their image of idol and woman nor will you show any sign of weakness. You'd rather stay hated than do that. Your manager sighed and it pulled you out of your thoughts.

"Well then. If you're okay then I'm glad. So just as I told you I have this drama for you if you're interested." You weren't the slightest bit. Frankly you'd rather stay in bed for the next three months jobless than play some crazy villain or villainous second female lead. Then again you felt bad about the amount of work he probably had because of you. You looked him in the eyes and answered with a sigh.

"I can't promise anything but I can at least listen what it’s about.." Your manager seemed surprised, but he didn't wait long, perhaps in case you'd change your mind. He took out some papers and handed them to you. You cringed on the sole title "Love is your destiny" — it sounded sappy.

"So it's a love story between fallen angel and this human..." he started.

"Angels...so who do they want me to play? Satan? Devil? Succubus?" You browsed through pages to find the villain.

"You'd know if you'd let me finish." You sent him a small apologetic smile. "They want you to play the main role." You stared at him confused before you burst with laughter.

"They want me to play cute girl in love with the angel?" The idea of you playing the sweet female lead was absurd, not that you weren’t able to do it, you were a good actress it wouldn’t be a problem for you, if anything it would most likely be a challenge for the audience.

"No, no! You'd play the angel. See this is drama with strong female lead. The origin of your character is fascinating. You had to watch the mistreatment of a woman extremely devoted to god. The lady prayed, but she still got beaten, almost killed even. Moreover, you had to be the guardian angel of her torturer — the aggressive husband. You pleaded to god, you asked him to let you guard her instead, but he didn’t agree and forbade you from intervening. One night when the husband got drunk, he beat her unconscious and you were sure he’d kill her. You decided to save her, you kill her husband and this is the moment when you fell. That's when you became deviant and promised yourself you'd help those who were denied it. You’d protect them and avenge them. Fast-forward a thousand years, and we are in Seoul and you meet a man, a painter..." He was so excited you almost didn't understand some words because of the speed. He was waiting for your response but you were too occupied with reading what he handed you. Once you finished it you looked at him with a mix of surprise and excitement.

"It's like it was made for me.." you said with bewildered tone.

"That's because it was made for you. The screenwriter wrote it with you in mind." You looked like a cartoon character, eyes wide, mouth in a shape of letter "o", once you heard him.

"Me?"

"Yes. She is apparently a big fan."

"And tvN is ok with that?" You furrowed your brows confused.

"Perhaps they aren't. But it is co-production with Netflix, and they pushed for you since you’re popular worldwide."

Your heart fluttered and the tips of your fingers tingled from excitement as you rummaged through the pages once again, not only it would be showed in TV during the prime-time but also streamed on Netflix weekly.

"The screenwriter and producer kept calling me since yesterday as soon as it was known you came back. They almost cast someone else. They were sure you're staying in the USA. Isn't it amazing?" He was as excited as you were and you felt some remorse for being so rude to him before. You gave him your warmest smile, one you usually used only around Mark and your family.

"It really is. Thank you and I'm sorry for being rude earlier." He was clearly uncomfortable with your apology, red spreading on his cheeks as he waved his hand dismissively.

"Ah don't mention it. Does that mean I can call them and say you are interested." You looked at the pages in front of you once again and smiled broadly before simply saying.

"Yes!"

Jinyoung was still amused you threatened him in his own café. He couldn't focus on the book he had in his hands anymore as he chuckled replying your angered and irritated expressions in his head. It was fun to tease you because you reacted so well. He could tell you could be great friends if you'd let him. He smiled to himself mouthing your own words "bloody Y/N". He was truly shocked that he met you here of all places and found it rather amusing when you yelled in English and caught his attention. He felt some disappointment upon seeing a half naked man talking to you from the screen of your phone but the feeling disappeared as quickly as it came up once your friend ended the call. Jinyoung wouldn't call himself a noisy person, but he found you interesting, and he wanted to know who it was and what kind of relationship you had although he rarely cared for stuff like this... His thoughts were interrupted by his ring-tone, BamBam's face illuminated the screen. He sighed but answered it anyway.

"Skrrrt, skrrt!"

"Ah yes, good morning to you to Bam." Jinyoung said in amused tone.

"Oh, hyung you seem in good mood. What you're up to?"

"Reading, thinking."

"Sounds boring wanna hang out?"

"Actually I wanted to ask you about something." Jinyoung ignored his question once he remembered how obsessed with celebrities and their styles Bam was.

"Shoot."

"Do you know any celebrities under the name Y/N." BamBam laughed wholeheartedly.

"That's very funny hyung."

"What do you mean?"

"OMG you're not joking! Are you living under a rock, hyung? Y/N is like the hottest actress ever. Her style is chic and comfy and artsy it's really cool, and she actually doesn't have a stylist, she does it on her ow..."

"She is an actress?"

"She is the actress! She played the White Fox in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Lol, you call yourself an actor and you don't know the most popular Korean actress abroad."

"You know I don't like those superheroes movies. Besides why didn't I hear about her Korean career if she's so good?"

"You are so old it scares me sometimes. Well you should know her from internet. I think it's national sport to hate her or something. She just came back, and they're already frying her online not to mention the media and dating rumors."

"Dating rumors?"

"Yeah she dated few actors. I think Seojoon hyung dated her and Changwook hyung even almost proposed. The media made her to look like heartless vixen though. I mean they never liked her but her last ex gave a very unfavorable interview to dispatch and after that she became villain number one. She left shortly after."

"Mmmm... I see." Jinyoung only started his career four years ago so it shouldn't be weird you've never met before. He was also the type of person who couldn't care less about internet gossip and gutter press or dispatch. He sighed. Suddenly your angry reaction made much more sense and Jinyoung didn't feel as good about it as he did before. He scolded himself for being too frivolous and selfish. He just wanted to see your reactions - it was cute and funny...

"Why did you ask? OMG you've met her didn't you. I'm so jealous. What was she wearing? Was it Gucci? I heard she likes it."

"Ok Bam. I have to go. Thanks for the talk."

"Wait, so you wanna hang out?"

"Last time when you asked me to hang out I had to shop for 4 hours with you."

"Well... I am your stylist. Besides, it was fun, come on."

"I think we have different definitions of "fun""

You woke up to no noise pleasantly surprised. It seems that Sunday's were free from renovation and thanks to that you could sleep in. You stretched out and grabbed the phone to check the time. It was already past eleven. You smiled to yourself and fell to bed lazily. Soon you wouldn't have time for lazy days like this as the production team was supposed to finish up casting for the drama by the end of the next week. You thought about picking some groceries, maybe cooking yourself some food and enjoying the day with a book or perhaps some video games. You took shower and put on some comfortable clothes — beige cardigan you stole from Mark clearly too big for you and some black trousers pairing it up with brown coat. You left the apartment and as soon as you did the irritating voice in your head reminded you about your debt. Hesitant at first you shook off the feeling quickly and knocked on the door. This time you were prepared for teasing, you were expecting it even so you wouldn't be caught off guard. At least that's what you were telling yourself. Your neighbor, however, didn't act the way you expected him to. Instead of smirking at you and teasing you or straight up mocking you, he seemed nervous. He had deep purple bags under his usually sparkling eyes. Perhaps he didn’t feel well... you wondered whether you should ask him if he needed some help. You decided it would be extremely awkward and so you cleared your throat and spoke up — softness now somewhere in your voice.

"Is that bad time? I can come later I just wanted to give you back your money.."

"N-No." He started nervously "I mean no. It's fine. I'm actually glad you're here. Would you come in?"

You didn't want to come in and it must have shown on your face since he continued.

"Come on. I don't bite." He smiled warmly and it seemed much more normal than the timid self he showed you seconds ago. And so you came in curiously looking around his own apartment. It was a mirror image of your own in terms of room placements — a hallway leading to living room with opened kitchen. You came into the living room and Jinyoung rushed after you quickly turning the TV off. You didn't pay it any mind since you were looking around and taking in how different was his home compared to yours. It was very modern and yet it kept the homey feeling. Yours on the other hand, well it was raw yet full of stuff? Mark would probably call it unfinished and cluttered. Your neighbor sat on the other side of the couch leaving quite a lot of space between the two of you and run a hand through his hair. He wore a cardigan very similar to yours both in color and style in fact it could be the very same brand and style it’s just neither of you noticed it.

"So what did you want to talk about?"

"I wanted to apologize." He responded quickly and gained a surprised look from you.

"Apologize?"

"Yes about yesterday…I shouldn't have said those things in public I could say I just didn't know about your situation but it’s no excuse. I’m truly sorry." he paused. "You don't have to be stressed about press or rumors though. It is my café and my staff, so they won't talk about it with anyone I took care of it." You took back everything you said, you weren’t prepared for meeting him, especially not getting apologies from him. On top of that he was the owner of your favorite café...

"I… it's fine." You said confused and tried to act as normal as possible while being very aware of your palms spread on your thighs. They were unnaturally clammy. It was a surprise to you, you rarely got any apologies and you were expecting some more teasing not something like that. Your eyes were everywhere except on him and you were screaming at yourself internally to say something, anything, but nothing was coming to your mind. Once again you lost your ability for forming witty sentences around him or in that case any sentences. There was awkward silence between you and you immensely regretted coming to see him today. You weren’t used to this. Somewhere in your belly you could feel as if butterflies - or rather moths — yes, moths of anxiety were fluttering their wings desperately trying to get into your chest. You never felt like this before. You tried to avoid looking at him but your own eyes betrayed you and fell on Jinyoung only to find out he was enjoying your anguish. His brown eyes were glimmering and his lips formed half smirk that he tried to cover with his left hand in a gesture of propping his head up. Immediately irritation came to you burning all the fluttering wings in the pits of your stomach. A frown formed on your face and you send him a glare. Wondering how could you be so stupid and fall for his act.

"You're really cute when you're shy or embarrassed." He chuckled now mocking you openly.

"I can't believe I took your apologies as sincere." He chuckled again clearly pleased with how you responded.

"They were sincere. I just enjoy teasing you."

"Could you stop? That's inappropriate you don't even know me."

"What do you mean we are neighbors and soon to be friends." He smiled broadly and for a second your mind travelled somewhere else simply admiring his beauty. You cursed his handsome face it could blind and charm everyone really. You wanted to leave, no you needed to leave. It was stuffy in here.

"I'm here for a reason." You reminded him, he was watching you with amusement. It felt almost as if a cat was observing you.

"Ah right... money." his tone seemed inattentive somehow. "I don't need it. Let's say it was a part of my apology."

"Just give me your account number and take the money."

"I don't remember it." You were getting more irritated every minute you talked to him.

"You don't remember your account number?" This man was unbelievable. He shrugged.

"You can send it to me through KakaoTalk if you really want." He smiled and took out the phone from the pocket of his pants.

"Fine. Just give it." Not wanting to spend any second longer here with him, you scanned his qr to add him quickly and transferred the money.

"Done. Now if you excuse me."

"Of course." He smiled again and you felt mocked by the sole action of his lips shooting upwards. He walked you to the door and watched as you slipped on your shoes. You tried to look as cold and dignified as possible but still tripped over the doorstep. He caught your arm firmly and straightened you. Your heart was beating so fast and hard all you could hear was blood pumping in your ears in fact you were sure he could hear it as well. On the other hand whose heart wouldn't when you almost fell face first, right…? Right? It surely wasn't because of his warm breath now tickling the crown of your head, nor the dangerously beautiful eyes... you absolutely regretted coming here today. It was foolish of you to think your cursed neighbor wouldn't shake you up today. And he was still holding you — how awkward is that; and you felt fine with being hold like that — what on earth was wrong with you? You started to think that maybe it would be better if you'd actually fell and hit that stupid head of yours.

Jinyoung was having very dangerous thoughts. The kind he didn't have in a very long time. He wasn't prepared for this kind of proximity. He was already shaken up yesterday by your touch and closeness he only held your hand for a second or two. Maybe he didn't show it but he was. Honestly he wasn't even into PDA or flirting with someone or even thinking of flirting with someone. Yes, he liked teasing, and he teased you but it was in a FRIENDLY manner. Well it was safe to say he didn't have friendshippy type of thoughts right now. Jinyoung reacted automatically upon seeing you fall he just grabbed your arm and pulled you his way. He was still holding your now tensed muscles, but he couldn't let go of you. He was in trance. Your warmth radiating onto him, the way the smell of your shampoo was tingling his nose, your huge doe-like shocked eyes, parted lips, soft pink on the apples of your cheeks. He was wondering how badly would you kill him if he asked to kiss you right now. He was seriously considering it worthy asking even if you were to pull out his tongue like you threatened yesterday. He didn't ask though, the rational part of his brain finally letting go of you. His own feeling were mess, but he did what he knew best — he masked his emotional disarray with some more teasing hoping you wouldn’t notice.

"Falling for me already?" He smirked even though internally he was screaming and already thinking of confiding in Jackson to get himself calmed. He was clearly the one falling and he was panicked. You rolled your eyes on him seemingly gaining the composure while he was getting stunned even by such simple gesture like this.

"You're way below my standards." You seemed annoyed. He smiled again although he wanted you to leave quickly and leave him alone with his feelings, so he can sort this out. Your eyes narrowed at him even more.

"I need to go now."

"Well, have a great day."

"Right, you too." You were so cold Jinyoung almost chuckled at it because it almost wounded him, and yet he liked it. He enjoyed teasing you too much. You were already walking to the elevator, but he couldn't help himself.

"Oh, and try not to fall when I'm not around to catch you, Y/N." He laughed and you were already frowning at him absolutely mad which made his heart skip a beat, you were really too cute when you frowned. Jinyoung closed the door before you could say anything or worse before he did. He realized he was in deep shit. He tried to think reasonably. He probably just had a crush because he spent a whole night watching movies and dramas you were starring in, he might have also accidentally watched all of your interviews and went to sleep at 6 still smiling to himself from that interview where you had to answer questions about your body in preparation for your role in that Marvel movie. The reporter wouldn't stop asking about your body and making comments on it even though you were clearly uninterested in the topic which you finally cut with your own questions. "Are you looking for some weight loss tips? You look great. Seriously what is it about? Are you trying to fit in my suit?" The last question was asked with whole whisper theatrics and Jinyoung laughed at loud at five am hoping he didn't wake you up through the wall. The suit in question was extremely fitting white leather catsuit. It wasn't the only interview in which you showed off your wits, eloquence and badassness, or how Bam would call it "swag". You were also the most attractive actress he had seen. Of course, you were also attractive when you weren't acting but on the screen... you were amazing. So Jinyoung tried to calm himself down rationalizing his earlier thoughts as simply being starstrucked. That’s what fans felt towards their idols, he was simply charmed by his own new idol. Yes that was it — that’s exactly the type of thoughts some fanboys or fangirls would have. He called Jackson anyway, he knew the designer was the right person to talk to in situations like this.

Twenty minutes later Jinyoung regretted ever calling his best friend.

"OH MY GOD YOU ARE SO IN LOVE WITH HER!" Jackson basically yelled to the phone. Jinyoung groaned and massaged the space between his brows.

"Were you even listening? I'm just a big fan."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night man. I’m a big fan of Christian Dior and all I can think of is making out with him."

"Don’t compare it, he is dead!" Jinyoung yelled and his friend filled his ear in response.

You were regretting not taking the car for shopping. The walk did help with your racing heart, and helped ease off your mind but it turned out the supermarket isn't that close any more when you have to drag home ten bags of food and products. Thankfully a convenience store was on your way so you could make a stop there maybe you'd be lucky enough to see Seoyun, buy her coffee and have a chat. You knew it was stupid, because she could've just feel obliged to say she is your fan but you still wanted to tell her about your new upcoming role. Sadly she wasn't there and so you just made a stop and sat on one of nearby benches. Massaging your palms that had those harsh red lines imprinted in them now thanks to the bags. You could swear you heard the sound of released shutter and so now alarmed you looked around but it seemed you were the only person here. You sighed, how paranoid have you become that you started hearing the cameras when there was none. Then again you were extremely lucky dispatch and paparazzi haven't found you yet. Just before you left to the USA, your ex gave this interview and your life became hell. You didn't have a day without paparazzi running after you or spying on you. The memories came to you not without acrimony and hurt. Your ex, an actor just like you, used you to create scandal and gain some popularity. You could remember how enraged and morose it made you. You didn't date anyone since then even when Mark tried to introduce you to some people. You intended on staying that way. You didn't need anyone, you had Mark, and he was enough for you. Just you and your best friend. You weren't sure how long you stayed like this, deep in your thoughts. You moved only after you fingers became stiff from cold. Somehow you managed to carry the groceries back home. You were so tired that you just counted it as your training today. You checked the time and it was one PM, perfect time to call your bestie.

"Markiee!!" You whined as soon as his face appeared on your screen.

"Y/N-ah. I miss you." He was wearing some blue hoodie this time.

"That's my line. Do you have time to talk?"

"Bruh, for you? Always. What's up?"

"I am going to star in a drama!"

"What? I thought you hate those." He was genuinely shocked.

"I know, I do. But this one is different. I'm not playing the villain I got female lead, and she isn't some damsel in distress she is a badass character!" You almost screamed and he chuckled.

"Woah. Someone's excited. I'm so proud of you. So who is getting the privilege to be cast with you?"

"I don't know yet. I'm supposed to meet the cast next week." He nodded his head and smiled. "Anyway what are you up to?"

"I was actually thinking of playing Among Us and streaming wanna join?" He grinned.

"Absolutely, prepare to get wrecked Tuan." You used to play together at least once a week when you were in the USA, his fans loved you and shipped you even though you both told them you were just friends — it is some rule in the internet though, to ship close friends.

Few hours later you were once again killed as the first person, this time by Mark.

"YOU GONNA REGRET IT WHEN WE’LL MEET TUAN. I SWEAR I’M GONNA WHOOP YO ASS..." You screamed on top of your lungs and Mark laughed wholeheartedly, while his chat filled up with hundreds of LOL’s and LUL’s.

"You guys she threatens me. Someone make a clip and send it to the police once they find my dead body." He kept laughing and you couldn’t help but laugh as well. His smile and laugh were just too contagious.

"You really put our friendship to test lately Tuan, here I was foolishly trusting you when you killed me in cold blood. " You stretched and your stomach rumbled reminding you that you haven’t eaten yet and it was already around four pm.

" Hey don’t hate the player, hate the game. " He shrugged and winked, while you rolled your eyes.

"Okay Mark, I gotta go and eat. It’s already afternoon here."

"Sure, chat say bye to Y/N." They did as he asked and it was soon filled with many hearts and goodbyes. "Love you Y/N! Call me soon." He grinned and you smiled warmly.

"Love you too Mark. Bye guys!" With that you logged off the discord, and switched off his stream. You make your way to the kitchen and took out the ingredients for kimchi jjigae you bought before. You carefully read the recipe opened on your phone and began cooking. You had to make anchovy stock first so you grabbed some dried anchovies, kelp and slashed the daikon in cubicles — it looked quite awkward as each cubicle was different size but hey it was you eating it not some kind of culinary critic. You added water and left it to boil deciding to take care of the rest of ingredients. You cut some kimchi and ate some as a snack and reward for not ordering food today, sliced some green onions, cut the pork and the tofu as well. By the time you were done it was time to strain the broth and add the rest of ingredients. It had to cook so you decided to watch some TV in the meantime. You turned it on, it was some kind of reality show where idols were supposed to camp in the wild for a few days. The idols clearly didn’t feel like being there and the fact you knew neither of them didn’t help. You dozed off before you noticed, your eyelids getting as heavy as iron. The smell of burning woke you up. You shot upwards from your couch and rushed to the kitchen, bumping into a coffee table on your way there.

"FFFFFF-UUCK." you hissed, when your shin pulsed with pain. You quickly grabbed the pot with stew to get it off the fire, forgetting it would be hot as well. You hissed in pain and let id drop on your marble floor which was now covered in burned kimchi and some other things. "Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fucking shit." You cursed as you tried to navigate to the sink to ease off the burn with some cold water. The cold water did help and you sighed with relief only to later follow it with a sigh of resignation. You had to clean up this mess. It was when your phone barked — a new message. You checked it.

From Unknown number: Are you trying to burn down the whole building?

You furrowed your brows confused, wondering if it was one of those jokes or spam messages you heard about.

To Unknown number: Who’s this?

From Unknown number: Guess.

You huffed in disbelief.

To Unknown number: Ok, enjoy being blocked.

From Unknown number: Wait!

From Unknown number: It’s Jinyoung.

To Unknown number: How did you get my number? Never mind I’m blocking you I’m too busy to deal with you.

With that you put the phone back in your pocket and began cleaning up. You finished in no time now tired out by scrubbing. You sat on the floor and took out your phone to check it out. From Unknown number: Don’t block me what if you need my help one day.

To Unknown number: With what exactly?

From Unknown number: What if you get stuck in your bathroom and need someone to let you out?

You rolled your eyes and saved his contact

To Devil: There is at least 7 billion more people I’d rather ask to help me

From Devil: Ok then what if I get stuck in the bathroom and need your help.

To Devil: I’d leave you there

From Devil: Heartless

To Devil: Better tell me how did you get my phone number

From Devil: You gave it to me when you scanned my kakao code

You were bewildered, was that his plan from the very beginning or were you just paranoid? You were either prejudiced or he was in fact the devil with angel's face.

To Devil: Did you lie about not remembering your account number?

From Devil: Maybe

You couldn’t believe it, the audacity, the smugness. You could feel irritation building inside you but you decide to let it go when your stomach rumbled at you aggressively. After eating you took shower, read a few chapters of The Vegetarian and fell asleep.

Next week passed quickly but in the feeling of anticipation as you were supposed to meet the rest of the cast as well as the scriptwriter and director at the meeting on Friday. You kept calling your manager throughout the week trying to find out who could they be, but he didn’t know anything or didn’t want to tell you. And so you spent the week on training, running, reading and occasionally calling Mark to express your impatience and excitement. You didn’t meet your irritating neighbor even once this week — something you counted as blessing or perhaps a sign that the universe finally turned your karma around. It was finally Friday and you were already sitting in the meeting room waiting for everyone to come in. You smiled at the young man sitting next to you, he was really cute and had this mole under his right eye it added to his charm. He was about to introduce himself, when someone came through the door and greeted everyone cheerfully. You couldn’t believe it. You were cursed, actually cursed.

"YOU?!" was all that left your mouth upon seeing him entering the room.

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parts-of-spop · 3 years

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Street racer AU in which Catra is rivals with Adora when they were once partners and then she messes up bad... real bad Part 1/?

“Hey, Wildcat?”

She fights the instinctive urge to hiss at the nickname.

Let it slide. She’s your friend. Don’t be a dick. Be better.

“Yeah, Scorp?” She replies, tugging on her leather, fingerless driving gloves and flexing her hands. It’s comfortable, the sensation as familiar as wearing a second skin.

“Er… Adora’s here.”

That gets her attention but she tries not to let it show; tail lashing only once before she tells it to still and she feigns a casual air.

“And?” She drawls lazily and Scorpia clears her throat.

“She er… well gosh er… not to like… be rude here but erm… she looks downright awful.”

What?

Slowly, retaining her mask of indifference, she turns her head to her friend then follows her worried face towards where the princess herself is stood between tweedled dumb and tweedled dumber.

Holy fuck she looks like shit.

And she cut her hair?

It’s short now. Butch. A messy pixie cut around her ears. It kind of suits her.

What does not suit her is the dark circles around her eyes and the pink risen scar marring her left eyebrow down to her cheekbone.

She looks almost like a different person.

Catra feels herself squirm as she squints harder at the wound.

It appears Arrow and Glitter are somewhat chewing her out; lots of hand waving and Adora is fidgeting with the cuffs of her gloves, tired eyes flickering from one person to the other.

Then she mumbles something, shrugs dismissively and walks away without a backwards glance.

Glitter’s ensuing stomping and flailing in frustrated rage would be funny if Catra could take the time to appreciate it but it’s a bit hard to tear her eyes from Adora’s slumped form.

Thus, she isn’t looking when the sparkly ball of indignation comes stomping across the tarmac towards her, Arrow boy trailing after her helplessly.

“Hey, you!”

Her ear flickers towards the shout and she finally tears her eyes from her ex-best friend to raise a brow at the fuming girl in front of her.

She looks downright murderous.

Or about as murderous as someone who is 5’2 can look.

Her hands are clenched in trembling fists and Arrow boy looks like he desperately wants to grab her and pull her away but is far too scared to.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Sparkles?” Catra asks dryly and if possible, the girl gets redder.

“Look… I don’t know what your problem is with Adora… but if you ever land her in hospital again then I’m going to personally throttle you to death.”

… Wait… What?

“What the hell are you talking about?” Catra questions, confused and Sparkles huffs back at her.

“How stupid do you think we are? You don’t really think we didn’t know you’d been tailing Adora for weeks? Did you think you were really that slick and clever? I’d bet you knew her schedule better than even we did,” She spits venomously.

Catra’s tail flicks behind her.

“Gotta know the enemy, don’t you?” She says smoothly and Sparkles abruptly loses the heat of her anger and her hands go slack at her sides.

She exhales slowly.

Instead, her face twists into pure and total disgusted hatred.

“Y’know… Adora kept saying to us that you were her best friend… but that can’t be right. She has to have been mistaken,” She says coolly and Catra almost flinches, stomach twisting.

“Glimmer…” Arrow boy whispers pleadingly.

But she’s not stopping and she’s pinning Catra with a look so icy that it freezes her in place.

“Because you told Prime what Adora was doing every second of the day and because of you he knew exactly when she’d be alone and defenceless…” … Oh no. “He knew exactly where to send his goons…” No. “And let me tell you, Catra… hearing one of my best friends being beaten and stabbed to death over a phone line isn’t very fun.”

Catra’s never felt this sick in her entire life.

And she can do nothing as Glimmer steps close to her, eyes seething with pure loathing and she presses a finger into the centre of Catra’s chest.

“You almost got her killed… If not for that phone call… Adora would be dead because of you,” She spits venomously. She jabs the finger into Catra hard and she stumbles back a pace. “So stay the fuck away from her, Catra. We know what you did. Adora knows what you did… So stay behind the wheel and out our way because if you dare hurt Adora again, it’ll be the last mistake you’ll ever make…”

Then she steps backwards and narrows her eyes in a glare.

“… So… you’ve finally got nothing to say now? No snarky remark... Aren’t you happy?” She says grimly and Catra is mute, ears pinned flat against her head and heart thundering in her chest. “You finally did it, Catra… You’ve actually fucked up Adora… and she knows it…” Her face twists into a cold sneer. “I really really hope you’re proud of yourself…” She adds in a spite-filled hiss before turning and walking away, gently brushing past Bow and he stands, fumbling for a moment like he wants to apologise or say something.

But then he looks at Catra and his eyes turn steely, his brow knitting in a hard line.

He closes his mouth.

His jaw clenches.

And he leaves without a word.

The silence that follows is deafening.

Catra can’t hear it through the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears.

Fuck…

Adora nearly-…

Adora almost-…

Holy fuck… What’ve I done?

“Wildcat?” Scorpia murmurs tentatively.

It snaps her back to reality and in moments, she’s scrambling to the nearest bush and heaving into it, throwing up breakfast and bile through tears that aren’t all from the vomiting.

I nearly got Adora killed.

Another heave.

Adora could’ve died… scared and bleeding on the phone to her friend.

Fuck.

“Easy there. I gotcha,” Scorpia says soothingly, her claw against her back, rubbing in circles.

It takes a long time for the retching to stop and Catra suspects it’s more due to there being nothing left to throw up.

She spits out the lingering vile taste and quietly accepts the tissue Scorpia is offering her so she can at least make an attempt to clean herself up.

Her tears have painted her fur flat against her cheeks but she’s so miserable and sickened with herself that she doesn’t care like she usually would.

This is the single greatest fuck up of her entire fuck up of a life.

She tosses the tissue to the floor and Scorpia doesn’t comment on her littering like she ordinarily might.

Then she buries her face in her hands and the comforting smell of leather pulls her back to the ground steadily. Breathe deep. Nice and steady like Perfuma taught you.

Several minutes later, she lifts her head and exhales shakily.

“You okay, Wildcat?” Scorpia asks gently and she wants to cry again.

“I didn’t… I didn’t mean for Adora to… to get hurt. I wouldn’t…” She trails off helplessly, closing her eyes with an unsteady sigh. “Never mind… Let’s just go race.”

“We could leave? Are you up to it?” Scorpia suggests and Catra huffs.

“No but we can’t leave. Weaver would have our asses if we did… Let’s get it over with.”

That’s easier said than done.

Because safe to say, Catra is well off her game.

And it starts before the race even begins…

Because by sheer god awful luck, her suped-up Camaro is directed to slide in beside Adora’s familiar white and gold Mustang and that allows Catra to get really up close and assess the damage.

Which really doesn’t help the guilt and shame she’s feeling because she looks even worse up close.

She looks like a corpse.

And their windows are wound down so they can have any last minute check-ins with their teammates and Catra’s ears are sharp enough that she can hear Adora’s breaths come uneven.

She’s in pain.

The clammy sweat on her face confirms it.

“Not so pretty these days, am I?”

Catra jumps at the sudden words and realises Adora is talking to her, her voice flat and empty.

She’s never sounded so blank.

She doesn’t turn her head from the road ahead, hands flexing around her steering wheel.

“I…” Catra chokes uselessly and then eyes that should be a warm blue flicker sideways to glance at her.

There’s nothing in that look… just cool lifelessness.

“... You’ve finally won, Catra. That’s all there is to it,” Adora states, in that same unfamiliar tone.

Then her hand lowers to her door and the window slides up between them.

Catra gapes helplessly at the side of her face but Adora ignores her, staring ahead and setting her jaw.

Catra slumps back into her own seat, eyes stinging with tears.

… This doesn’t feel like winning. This feels like losing the biggest game of all time.

#street racing au #catradora #adora #catra #it gets better #because i cannot do angst without a happy ending #also i am currently recovering from several days in hospital after a seizure #so this is all stuff I wrote eons ago #but I have a little more to post #AU count is uncountable at this point #cw/ vomit #I'm not sure if I need more content warnings so let me know if I do

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worlds-forgotten · 3 years

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okay I think I’m ready to talk about the episode now lmao

SPOILERS AHEAD

I want to stay positive! I’m not trying to make anyone feel bad for liking the episode, these are some personal opinions! Plus, I still liked the episode, but these were some of my thoughts!

We’ll start with the wtf stuff HJKHDSKFS

Literally ready to throw hands with Bo and the other lady (I forget her name? Did they even say it?) I was so angry when they started talking shit to Boba like stfu JDEWIJDKLS

Where is the dude that was with them?

Boba saying ‘little one’ in a menacing tone,, sorry i had two heartbeats NDJKNFKEW

I can’t believe no-name lady had the gall to try and beat up an old man like really? Boba stood his ground but come on he has a senior’s discount he doesn’t have time for this

din just standing there watching Boba fight was so fucking funny hes like ‘k we’ll wait till ur ready’

Where did the scientist end up? The doctor? Did they leave him in the ship? He just peaced out

WHERE DID BOBA GO?? HE JUST LEFT?? Like ‘lmao k bye’ he said he would help Din until he got his son back but then didn’t stick around for the climax? I’m confused

I loved the four ladies taking on the entire ship themselves!!! very sexy of them!! but I really hope Disney didn’t leave out the other Mando guy just so they could get brownie points for having a women-only scene (looking at you Endgame)

cara just beating the guys with her gun-

Din sneaking around was so cute lol

I shit myself when the dark trooper was smashing the helmet I WAS SO SCARED IT WAS GONNA BREAK

use of the spear was very sexy

I KNEW Gideon was gonna be in the room with the saber on Grogu like din honey use ur brain

din turned to get grogu and i was like “okay here it is he’s going to get stabbed din the back and the baby will have to heal him” and then..no

the fight was over so easy

VERY VERY underwhelming fight?? like the moves were really good and the visuals but

like i get beskar can’t be pierced but gideon went down so easily and then in the next scene Din just strolled in with the saber, the baby, and gideon in cuffs

we didn’t get to see a reunion!! angry

i hate that gideon felt used as an extra person to explain the plot, like he was beaten so easily and then explained the legend and then that was kind of it. He didn’t feel like a big threat

bo stfu and take the saber

Din just not giving a shit about the saber is so hilarious he’s like “,, i yield take it i dont want it’

Okay. Luke Skywalker. I love that chanel wearing baddie and that scene killed - it was so good - prime Luke, saving the day, looking amazing while doing it, and we are seeing him after the events of ROTJ! The character felt so HIM, but I can’t get past the bad deep fake (hello, Sebastian Stan is right there) and also, I wish they didn’t bring in a big name character. We have so many named people from books and shows it feels like it’s a bit of an extra money grab? Idk I’m feeling conflicted about it because Luke training Grogu is so so cool but I also wanted something different maybe? I’m not sure much to think upon

Din ,, crying :(

“dont be afraid” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

when did this man have time to cut his hair and shave lmao

I know Din’s whole mission was to let Grogu go with the Jedi, but I wish Din could’ve had the chance to understand the Jedi more. He barely knows anything about them and doesn’t even know where to go to find Grogu again

like sending ur kid to boarding school and not knowing the address

WHERE IS THE BALL?? I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO GIVE IT TO THE KID

maybe he’ll keep it to longingly look at later

i would have liked like .. an ‘i love you’ or some declaration of love, but the face touch and helmet removal was really strong as well

LMAO BOBA just showing up at the end with Fennec and just sitting down like .. okay now what? ur just gonna sit there JHEKFHEFKE but that was pure sex honestly love them

LIKE hello boba ,, u need an extra set of hands

too many questions left unanswered?? Din is Mand’alor?? HES ALSO HOMELESS AND JOBLESS AND HAS NO MONEY OR CLOTHES?? is bo katan gonna try and beat his ass for the saber? what are they going to do with gideon?

anyways many thought head full

i sobbed harder than i have in a long time

In conclusion - this episode felt a bit rushed for me - i wish they had taken a bit more time explaining things, building a bigger tension, and giving Din more time with Grogu. I’m excited to see where season 3 takes us and I will slowly go insane waiting for it to come out

#the mandalorian spoilers #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #grogu #din djarin #baby yoda #lavinia muses #boba fett

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workofthediesel · 3 years

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One Comeback