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ohsohoney · 2 months

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When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Three

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Ah this took ages to write but I actually really loved it- finally they meet!! Hopefully I got a few things about Detroit right too but I don't live there so lemme know if not! Also I appreciate all the love the last two parts have gotten, means a lot!

Warnings: Some heavier topics surrounding a rough childhood and abuse of substances.

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

It was far too early to be up. Especially after the night I’d just had, tossing and turning until I’d eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. Something I hadn’t quite anticipated after my call with Em, but sleep had seemed near enough impossible once I’d hung up. No real reason as to why, simply that my mind had gone from a dull sluggish buzz to over-fucking-load in a mere matter of seconds.

Thankfully I had a flight to catch which meant that, even though I looked like my mum after another week long bender, I would be able to catch a little sleep before landing in Detroit.

Detroit. That was the singular thought my tired mind kept pausing on. Stupidly, it felt just like yesterday that Marshall had first bridged that gap between us and phoned me, only it had been weeks since then, during which the most unexpected friendship had blossomed. He’d called again that next day and the timezones separating us had been made all that more obvious, him having not long dropped his daughter off at school whilst I’d been returning from lunch. He never really had given me the real reason as to why he’d gone and gotten in touch again so quickly, only that he’d wanted to double check that I was still down to fly out and work on a song or two.

It hadn’t phased me. Neither had the next few calls that had followed, nor the texts that I’d found myself composing to him at odd hours of the day.

We’d spoken about music at first: “Who inspires you?” He’d asked me which had led into a ramble. Something I only ever tended to do with those who knew me best, never having really mastered the whole art of social interaction yet, even after the fame. But he’d let me go on, before I’d eventually spun the question back around on him and listened quietly to a passionate speech about the handful of artists that had transported him out of the tiny room he’d grown up in and into something other.

I mentioned my sister after that. Em had heard her shouting at the tele one evening whilst she’d played some game that always seemed to bring out her most profane language and laughed, asking after the roaring gremlin in the background. I’d told him bits and pieces, added to the story in odd quips and mentions over the passing weeks, enough that most wouldn’t quite catch on to what I’d been avoiding, but Lottie had been around more often than not and the man had quickly worked out that she lived with me. He’d never outright asked me the reason as to why, though I liked to think that he was simply waiting for me to tell him, because this thing that we had, it was all about building trust. And Marshall? He was almost as unforgiving with who he gave that out to as I was.

Soon enough our calls and Facetimes had become a featured part of my day, one I actually looked forward to. But even saying that, I was still shit scared of meeting him properly.

As much as it might humour him for me to admit it, I was a big fan of his. Had been since I’d first heard Guilty Conscience when it had hit the UK charts. I’d been swallowed whole by the rest of his LP, had even nicked a cd copy of it off a stall down at the market, alongside Aquemini, because I’d liked it so much. In truth, one of my earliest memories even featured the man. It was of my uncle bagging tickets to Em’s first real show down in Notting Hill, his girlfriend at the time’s brother having managed to somehow score a couple on a whim. It had been all they’d talked about for weeks on end.

I’d been around long enough now though– having dived headfirst into the industry before dipping a toe in first– that I knew just how meeting your icons wasn’t all it was chalked up to be. Still, this felt different to us just bumping into one another at some show or a party. And, who was I kidding– it was entirely different. Impossibly so. I’d said it to him then and I’d reiterate it again, he had been the last person I had ever expected to call.

“Passengers boarding the 09:53 flight to Detroit, Michigan please head to Gate B7.”

I sucked in a deep breath at the overhead announcement, figuring that it really was now or never. Two weeks in a big old house working on music with Eminem, I supposed stranger things had to have happened. So instead of lingering on the inane concept, I popped an anti-sickness tablet and dragged my carry-on over towards the gate.

…

Truth be told, I much would have preferred not having slept on that flight. God, I was still embarrassed, but even so I couldn’t help the muted giggle that bypassed my lips whilst I waited for my luggage to drift on by.

I was just thankful that I’d had the foresight to wear a hat and sunnies the entire time. Mostly out of habit, yes, but also so that I could keep this whole Detroit trip hush hush, because Marshall really had gone above and beyond to bring me out here and so I didn’t want to reward him with a swarm of unwanted questions. Not that anyone would even add up the notion of me being here and allude that it was down to him. That was probably the most unlikely headline somebody could conjure up.

But back to the whole Flight from Hell. Well, I had the tendency to sometimes be dramatic so not Hell per se, it had just been humiliating. Being shaken awake only to realise you'd been drooling the entire time and the rest of the passengers had already disembarked was more than a tad bit mortifying, especially when the air steward’s eyes had widened a fraction when I’d tried to sort myself out and wake up.

I wasn’t entirely sure if he’d recognised me, or if it had just been down to the fact that Marshall had put me in First Class— a matter which I had complained about, justifiably— and that I had one of those faces he couldn’t put a name to. But either way, I hoped he wouldn’t expand too much on it.

I caught sight of my suitcase just as it pushed its way through the heavy black flaps on the end of the conveyor belt and so I slid past a man in a bright green Packers jersey to grab at it. And even I had to wince at the sight of the offending article. In all places, really? I wanted to ask. Wrong fucking move there, mate.

By the time I finally did make it out of the crowd that had amassed, it had been near enough an hour since I’d landed and so I had a few messages waiting patiently for me.

Messages The Martian Blacked out GMC parked out front Tap twice on the back window

Then…

Flight ok?

My mouth quirked upwards on its own accord at the quick relay but I was quick to shoot something back.

Messages Might have passed tf out Woke up and it was just me and the steward there:))) Also tap twice?? Do I look like James Bond to you?

Although I had to Google what the fuck a GMC looked like, I did eventually work my way out of the terminal to spot the sleek SUV sat a way down in the drop off zone. ‘Course he’d have his driver park there, I thought pointlessly to myself as I manoeuvred past a handful of tired faces with a polite smile. Though to him it was probably easier to deal with whatever fine he got plastered with than it would be for me to attempt to find the thing in pickup parking. Not that it would be all that hard, it was huge.

Anyway, by the time I managed to hone in closer on the vehicle I felt my nose scrunch up in slight embarrassment at the thought of having to knock twice, as though I really was some sort of spy or, more than likely, a dodgy dealer. But just as I approached, prepped to knock and give the driver my name, I heard the far side door open and a pair of shoes hit the rough tarmac.

Jumping back a tad, my head swivelled left to better view the figure who was then rounding the car. My eyes widened at the sight I was met with.

His smirk at my evident shock was ascued by a heavy hood and the brim of a dark cap, but it was there. Stayed there actually, all whilst he easily manoeuvred my luggage from out of my hands and into the boot of his car, whilst I simply stood there stock-still. Eventually, he came to stand before me about an arms length away. I blinked and my gaze skittered over the rest of our surroundings before they finally returned to his tilted head and piercing eyes. His back was turned towards the airport, away from the trio which had since grouped around their suitcases to wait and a handful of people that exited the terminal one or two at a time.

“What, I don’t get no hug?”

The mirthful lilt of his deep voice surprised me and my mouth worked over a plethora of words that couldn’t quite take stage before I was laughing softly into the shoulder of his jacket, his arms coming up to wrap around me.

It felt oddly surreal to finally meet him, even if I had been so caught off guard by his sudden presence.

In fact, I jolted back at the very thought and thumped his arm, my eyes narrowed even whilst my smile never appeared to falter. “Why are you here?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, arm moving to cradle the offended limb in sly mocking, before he huffed out a low laugh. “No, hello? No, wow, Marshall, I can’t believe you’re really here!”

My mouth gaped at the teasing tone he took on, much like something I’d heard on one of his songs, and then I was laughing too, shaking my head at his antics. “That’s how we’re playing this?” I quirked a brow, but eventually mimicked, “Wow, Marshall. Gee golly, I just can’t believe that you’re really here!”

Marshall dipped his chin in supposed approval, gentle eyes roaming over my face in a way similar to what I must have done when he’d first arrived. I wondered briefly what he saw but hastily brushed the thought aside. “The American accent still sucks, by the way.” He acknowledged just as he stepped forward to open the passenger side door, surprising me yet again as he slipped by me, “So if you’re goin’ into acting, take note.”

My glare was mocking at best, lacking any real heat as he waited for me to climb inside, it was only once I’d glanced back at him with a thankful smile that he moved to shut the door. I took in a sharp lungful of air at the quiet that then engulfed the car and watched him move around the front of the hood. He was achingly familiar and yet not at the same time. And it was such a strange thought to latch onto that I took the initiative to just take things as they came over the next few weeks, which turned out to work in my favour when he joined me in the car and the engine revved.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” I found myself saying as he slowly peeled his way out of the drop off bay. “Thought you said you’d have someone come get me.”

Em simply shook his head whilst I observed how his hands slid around the wheel with an effortless ease. “I said there’d be a car.”

My eyes widened to accentuate my point. “Exactly! There’d be a car! So I just figured a cab or something.”

His eyes flickered over towards me just as we came to a stop at the busy intersection outside the airport, then pulled away to look left and right again. “Well, you should stop figuring then.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll I gifted him, even as I laughed heartily to myself and took in the comfort of privacy the car offered, as opposed to the flight I’d just been stuck on. It was then, whilst we merged onto the highway and followed into the flow of traffic, that I got the chance to really look at him.

I was still attempting to get over my evident shock, having expected to meet him much later on, once I’d been dropped off at the house or maybe even a while after that. But it was nice to know that he’d driven all the way here to merely pick me up when he could have just as easily sent someone to do it for him.

Marshall looked about the same as he had when we’d first phoned in truth, only it was easier now to see all of the minute details he offered the world, those tiny imperfections.

The slight dip in his chin was much more prominent now what with the way his lips had since pursed in concentration. The skin there was smooth, as though not much time had passed since it had last been seen to by a razor, and it wrinkled only around his eyes when they narrowed into focus. His nose was pointed, whilst simultaneously being both strong and soft. He had eyelashes that I could only envy, dark and long, and freckles light enough to dot both sides of his face.

He must have felt my gaze on him though because he soon chanced a glance back at me with a single raised brow. My eyes slid away from his profile and instead I opted to gesture my chin out towards the tinted windows that encased us. “These legal?” I had wondered, but mostly asked just to steer his mind away from me having been caught staring.

With a short snort, his brow dropped and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What d’you think?”

I chuckled in retort, having expected that, and then looked away again, out towards the grassy verge that separated the long stretch of road from small grey buildings that littered both sides in the distance. It was my first time in Detroit and I wanted to make the most of it, remember every part.

It was quiet for a while after that, Em having switched on the radio at some point after asking after my flight, the two of us more than content to just let the silence linger around the hum of something so familiar, music.

He pointed things out to me here and there on the journey, nothing of real importance but dropping comments that would either make me hum or laugh loudly. He was a funny fucker even when he didn’t seem to be trying, I figured that was what I liked best about him.

We drove through Downtown Detroit at one point and I listened intently when he spoke about Ford Field, the home of his favoured Lions, and again when we stopped at a traffic light and he gestured over towards where the Fox Theatre sat. Even during the daylight it drew the eye.

Once we’d rolled away from the inner city and its skyscrapers though I felt myself relax further, pleased by the vast amount of green that I started to see. Most of the time I’d spent in The States often left me confined to the major cities, to their bustling crowds and hectic commutes, mostly because I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, what with venues and tours, interviews and recording sessions. So this would probably be the first time I’d get to see a slice of the country’s suburbs and it wasn’t all too different from what you’d typically see back home. Not exact sure, but similar in a lot of circumstances.

It took me a while to realise that Em had been nodding his head along to the radio, following the beat in an exact tempo. The sight had me hiding my grin behind my sleeve but the move captured his attention and he must have seen the growing joy my glazed eyes gave away to when he peered over at me because his forehead furrowed. “What?”

Instantly I shook my head, “Nothing.”

His eyes darted out towards the road, shifting gears before the back of his hand shot out to tap the side of my knee. “What?” He prodded again and I was startled by the easy nature of his touch, remembering then that it was possible now that we weren’t stuck between screens.

I snorted softly, dropping my arm seeing as he’d already caught on to the grin. “Just strange, is all. Being here.”

I watched closely as he gave a slow blink and waited, propping my arm up against the window whilst slumping a little in my seat.

“Good weird, or bad?”

The answer had to have been obvious and yet, I still answered him, “The good kind.”

“Good.” He hummed and my grin softened at his own small smile. It remained there for most of the drive.

I didn’t know what I had expected to see once we finally did pull up to the house, but it didn’t fail to live up to its owner's accomplishments. It was beautiful, big yes, but beautiful too. Terracotta in colour and with a long gravel driveway. He had trees and flowers around the fenced gate to further keep out any prying eyes, but they were vivid and lush. Pretty to admire.

Marshall turned towards me once we’d slowed to a stop and I smiled, unbuckling my seatbelt before he huffed a chuckle, turning off the engine and moving to do the same. The door shut behind me once I’d jumped out and I let myself breathe in the change of air. Having been cooped up in the Big Apple for the last few days it was refreshing to be able to actually enjoy it and not just think about all of the heavy city fumes.

I was quick to snap out of it though when I heard the slight beep that sounded from the back of the car when the boot reopened. “Hey, I can get that.”

Marshall's eyes cut over towards my approaching figure. “So can I.” He tugged the heavy suitcase out with one hand, “See?”

“Mature, Mathers.” I retorted, leaning past him to at least grab my carry on, but he was there too, our hands clutched the handle at the same time, his encasing mine. “I can get it.” I repeated, turning slightly in my stance to lift my brows up at him.

He was close, thigh pressing into the ledge of the boot whilst his other hand still held onto the door stationed above our heads. “You’re my guest.”

His tone was gruff, low enough for only me to have heard, even though there wasn’t anyone else mulling about. My eyes shifted, flickering back and forth between his own. “Then let your guest get their way.”

He blew out an amused breath, the weight of it fanned my face and had a few loose strands of hair fluttering. “You’re so fuckin’ stubborn.”

I shifted and his knee knocked against mine. “Here’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I quipped with a growing smile.

There was the slightest shake of his head, his mouth twitched, and then he was leaning in closer. I held my breath. Waiting. For God knows what, when—

He snatched the bag out from under my hand.

“Marshall!” It was almost indignant the yell I made, shocked by the sly move he’d played and the fact that he’d already jumped back to make his way towards the front door before I could even properly react. I heard his bright laughter echo back to mock me.

“Too slow.” Marshall called in turn, shrugging as he shot a smug look over his shoulder. “Lock her up for me?”

The tap he then gave his right trouser pocket evidently had me frowning and so I looked down on impulse, only to spot a set of keys dangling from the belt loop on my jeans. Baffled, my head snapped upwards, just in time to see him laugh and wheel my suitcase inside.

I took a deep breath, then let it go.

“Such a prick.” I muttered to myself, though not unkindly, as I jumped up to grab the boot door and slam it shut, using the fob to then lock the monster truck up.

By the time I made it up the rest of the drive and through the front door I was a little less peeved about the whole thing, which was mostly down to me having been a little humoured by his methods of undermining.

“You treat all your supposed guests like this?” I blew out.

Marshall only greeted my entry with a snort. “Uhuh, that initiation we talked about? Starts here.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped further into the entryway to observe, making the effort not to gape at the sheer size of it. Because in truth, he could’ve easily fit a half a dozen Harleys in the space between the door and the stairs.

“Where do we start the sacrifice then? Can’t imagine anyone would be all too happy about staining these pretty floors.” My toe skimmed a stark white tile as I said it, peering over at him through my lashes whilst I thought back to an earlier conversation we’d had and the fact that he’d actually remembered.

“Basement, baby!”

He used the term in ridicule, to accentuate the gaiety in the back and forth we’d just begun. His hands shot out wide in a gesticulative fashion and so I used the moment to grab at the handle of my suitcase he’d left by the door, thankful that the thing had wheels. I grinned at the small victory.

“You were saying?” I dragged out around a pleased smile.

Marshall shook his head at me, like he actually couldn’t believe I’d attempted to one up him— and managed it. Though he thankfully left it alone. Still, that was probably only due to the fact that he then said, “Want a tour?”

And who was I to deny?

“If you don’t want me getting lost, then yes please.”

He scoffed, but wore the ghost of a smile as he pushed further into the house, leading me this way and that until we finally wandered up another set of stairs onto the second floor.

“Bedrooms are there.” Marshall pointed out to me, hands stretched towards both the halls that lined either side of the staircase. “Mine’s just down here, Z’s too.” He explained further, gesturing towards the two doors on the far right side, Rosie’s bore a bright sign with her name and I was humoured to see that the usual silver handle had been switched out in favour of a neon pink.

He caught my slight smile at the sight of the door and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Quit it.”

I snorted softly, pursing my lips to dampen the grin I wore. “I didn’t say anything! But I do love it.” Honestly it was too cute seeing him all mushy like that, and the fact that he’d gone out of his way to make something like a door handle special for his daughter was endearing.

Marshall grunted out a hum, then took a deliberate step over toward a room a little closer, the door had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a room that could have resembled a hotel room had it not been for the much warmer sense of comfort it offered. I reckoned it was down to the little souvenirs and decorative pieces that had been jotted around the place, like the snowglobe of Big Ben and a little British flag, as well as the articles of clothing which had been laid out on the bed.

My attention caught on those first and I glanced back at Em, who was now leaning against the doorframe, to ask a silent question. The man shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the wood and suddenly looked a tad bit sheepish, “Rosie’s idea. Wanted to give you something, like, so you’d feel welcome or some shit.”

I let my fingers brush over the pyjama’s the little girl must have picked out. They were soft and dotted with tiny woodland creatures, bunnies and berries. My heart ached at the lovely gesture, never really having had anyone do something like this for me, let alone someone so small and sweet who had gone out of their way to make me feel welcomed of all things.

“You lucked out with her.” I murmured and was granted a doting smile when I peered back up at the girl’s father.

“She’s aight.” Marshall reasoned, pushing out a small breath as he took a step further into the bedroom. “Room okay then?”

Smiling, almost a little stupidly, I chuckled in disbelief and took another peer around the room. “It’s perfect, thank you again for this.”

He rolled his eyes at me and made a gah sound, “Say thanks again and I’ll take you to the nearest motel.”

My eyes widened just as my jaw dropped, “A motel, really? Wow, and here I thought we were truly bonding.”

“You know what they say, don’t assume.”

Narrowing my stare into something a bit more intense I waited for him to crack, but he must have been half-alien or something because the man held his own much longer than I did. “You’re such a dick.” I eventually chuckled, shaking my head.

“Get used to it,” He retorted and stepped away to wheel my suitcase further into the room, placing my bag down on the end of the plush bedspread. “You tired? Figured we could grab something to eat once Z’s home if you’re down.”

It was something I was used to, the whole jumping back and forth between serious and teasing, but I still found it sweet how he would tend to ask after me, simply to make sure that everything was still good.

I hummed in reply and took one last look at the pyjamas I'd been gifted. “I’m good, slept on the flight–”

“And drooled all over them First Class seats.” He butted in, earning himself a short glare which only proved to make him grin.

I should have known to have kept that shit to myself, fucker would probably lord it over my head forever.

“Uhuh, hilarious.” I deadpanned before continuing on like he hadn’t interrupted, “What’re you thinking of getting?”

The question went unanswered because it was then that the front door sounded, creaking open on its heavy hinges before it rattled closed. I jumped at the unexpected noise whilst Em simply glanced back over his shoulder, “That’ll be her.” He commented, confusing me for a second when he raised his hand and started a countdown on his fingers, “3, 2, 1–”

“Dad!”

I snorted at the precise timing, Marshall already moving towards the door at the call of his name and so I went to follow. It was just as we made it back out onto the hallway’s landing that he paused, “I can keep her occupied for a while if you wanna settle in, take a nap or something.”

It was an offer and a half from any parent to attempt to keep their kid at bay, I mean I’d done it a fair few times with an excitable Lottie over the years, but I waved it off, smiling when the girl’s voice called out again. “Dad?”

Marshall leaned in closer, hand clutching the bannister, and lowered his voice whilst his face got all serious, “Get out whilst you still can.”

Huffing out a mirthful breath, I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “I’m good, I'm actually excited to meet her.”

He paused and observed me for a moment, as though he was trying to see the truth behind that sentiment, which made me unsure. But I hoped he did find the sincerity in my words because it hadn’t been a lie, I was nervous to meet his daughter sure, wanted her to like me and not feel as though I was suddenly imposing on her life, but I had genuinely enjoyed her witty remarks and scathing comments when we had spoken the night before. She reminded me of a little of a younger Lotts.

Em eventually nodded at me, cheek dimpling ever so in a possible attempt to dampen his reaction, but before I could question it, the man was jogging down the stairs. “Up here, you monster. And what I tell you ‘bout yellin’?”

A familiar face poked its way out of the hall at the bottom of the staircase and the smile that dawned on it was beaming when she spotted her dad. “How are you gonna hear me if I don’t yell?” She replied, squealing when the man swept her up off feet and into a hug, peppering a line of kisses into her hair, “Dad!”

Marshall snorted at the reaction he’d garnered but eventually lowered the girl back down onto her feet, whilst I just stood at the bottom of the stairs watching them with a fond smile. “What?” He said in a put upon voice and ran a hand over the girl’s head, bulging his eyes out wide when Rosie pulled a face. “How was school, kiddo?”

Rosie pushed up onto the balls of her feet before she rocked back, “Good, I ran out to the car quick to get home ‘fore she gets here.”

The smirk the man took on was almost evil and he laughed when he cocked his head out to gesture behind the girl. “Just about managed it.”

A curtain of honey coloured hair swept over her shoulders when the girl twirled around on her heel, eyes widening in sudden surprise to find me standing there. “El!” She called out, a grin breaking across her features before she hurried over to engulf me in a hug too.

Even as surprised as I was by the gesture, I chuckled and lowered myself down to squeeze her back, smiling at Em from over the top of her head. “Hey,” I murmured gently, staying crouched even as we pulled apart, “Thanks for the pjs, they’re probably the best gift I’ve gotten in ages.”

That statement appeared to thrill the girl, who’s eyes twinkled under the soft lights, “I got a matching pair, guessed we could wear them tonight and watch a movie so you’d feel more at home.”

My heart burst at the thought, I was sure of it.

But then Marshall went to speak and I already knew what he’d been prepared to say, so instead of letting him ruin Rosie’s sweet plans, I was quick to jump in, “I’d love that.”

The smile she gave me was award worthy and she turned back to face her dad with that settled. “See, if you had gotten the same ones like I said, you could’ve joined!”

I snorted at the expression that then crossed Em’s face, his head jolting back a tad.

“You really didn’t get some to match?” I egged the girl on, mouth dropping open in a feigned amount of shock.

We were both met with a disbelieving shake of his head as the man blew out a heavy breath and turned away. “I’ll watch what I want and wear what I want, it’s my house.” He threw back at us as he headed further into the house, murmuring under his breath, “Women.”

Rosie and I shared a conspiratorial grin before we made to follow after him.

“It’s rude to just dump your friend, Dad.” Rosie commented once we’d wandered into the kitchen to find Em grabbing a couple of bottles out of the fridge, the girl slid onto a stool at the end of the island whilst I bit my cheek to keep from outright laughing.

Her words were met by an unimpressed stare that didn’t appear to phase her as she continued to swing her legs back and forth. The man let the fridge door slip close as he made his way over to join his daughter, handing her a bottle before sliding the other across the counter to me. “You got homework?”

Rosie’s eyes flickered from her dad to me, then back again, “Maybe, but it’s Math.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’ nowhere til it’s done.” Marshall told her with a small shrug, even though I’d seen his eyes widen at the thought of having to deal with numbers and sums. “Get changed and we can start on it, okay?”

The girl emitted a soft sigh but ultimately moved to jump down from off the stool, “You any good at Math, El?”

Biting down on my smirk, I ignored Em’s murmured warning of the girl’s name and answered, “Not bad, I might be a little help.”

“Anything’s better than my Dad’s attempts.”

“Yo, I try.” Marshall was all too quick to quip back in retort, his arms now crossed over his chest as he stared his daughter down with a slight frown.

Rosie’s smile was precious, but her eyes told another story. I knew then that she understood exactly how to keep her dad wrapped around her finger. She was a little menace and I already loved it. “I know, Daddy, my teacher said that my English homework was the best she’d read in a while.”

Em actually seemed to take pride in that and so I guessed he’d had a hand in that homework too. His daughter also appeared to take note of the fact that he was pleased because she hurried off then, calling out over her shoulder once more, “Be back in a sec!”

“Yellin’!” Marshall yelled, defeating the whole purpose of his previous argument, before he sighed and gestured me over towards the seat Rosie had just vacated. “See what I have to put up with?”

Scoffing, I moved to take up the stool whilst he picked up a few stray notes lying on the counter and placed a glass that had been left behind at some point into the sink. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait til she’s thirteen and debating the point of riding a dirtbike to and from school with you.”

Em barked out a real laugh at that as he turned his back on the sink to shoot me a look that said ‘Really?’

I heaved a put upon sigh, fingers toying with the water bottle I’d been gifted.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” I told him as my mouth worked over a smile, “Before I left she asked if she and a few friends could stay at the house alone whilst I was away, because, and I repeat, ‘If there’s six of us then that basically equates to one whole adult’. I’m still genuinely scared that she went through with it even after I said no, keep checking the security cameras to make sure there isn't a herd of teenagers working their way inside.”

He wore an amused smirk but I noticed there were more than a few questions hiding behind his stare. They’d been there for a while now.

“You can ask.” I eventually said, appreciating the atmosphere his home offered, from the warm walls and the pictures that decorated the place, to the odd bits of mess that made the too large house look lived in.

Em worked his tongue into the curve of his cheek and watched me for a moment, before he eventually settled his forearms against the counter and leaned into it. “Kinda figured you took care of her, even before you mentioned that she was your sister.”

My gaze flickered down to the water droplets that clung to my fingertips, the bottle sweating from the change in temperature. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a lot older than her, so we sort of lived through different shit but I went through a lot as a kid, with like my mum and all the issues she had. When I found out that she was pregnant again it was through this woman who used to work with her at the local greengrocers when I was little. I just remembered thinking that I didn’t want that baby going through the same thing I did.”

My mind flashed back to the memory. Thinking of Annie’s wrinkled face and the relentless rain that had only just begun to let up. She had congratulated me.

“I was sixteen, had long since packed my shit up and left, but I’d never had the money to get too far. So I’d still spot her out and about.” I licked at the corner of my mouth, unwilling to meet his eye. “I went to see her after I’d heard, mostly out of anger. Her new boyfriend had moved in and I remember just being thankful for the fact that my brother had a friend that didn’t mind putting him up. She said she wasn’t using, just fags and the like, a cider here and there. Was surprised to see me, though she expected a big song and dance about the new baby.”

I picked at the water bottle’s label.

“When Lotts was actually born, her dad was locked up proper– facing sixteen years for armed robbery. Mum had her in a ward two months early and ended up leaving her there to go visit him. She was a preemie, tiny, too tiny, you know?” I murmured and could still picture her that small. “Mum she came back that same night mostly for a bed to sleep in, but had already found herself a fix. The nurses must have noticed that something was up, they’d asked to run blood tests and shit, but mum wouldn't have it. Would come and go during visiting hours whilst Lotts was in the NICU. I stayed, only leaving when I had a shift to work, and even then I’d come running straight back.”

Marshall just stood there listening and in truth I was thankful that he hadn’t thought to interrupt me to offer words of comfort or probe deeper. Although his eyes were serious when I finally managed to look over at him, listening intently.

I rubbed my lips together before getting on with it, “I moved back in with her when Lottie was finally able to come home. Ended up taking care of the kid when I was still just a kid myself, only so that she didn’t get tossed into care or fucking overdose on whatever shit mum and whoever else left lying around. It was just the two of us for a while, before my brother, Danny, came back. He’d gotten caught up in something with these older lads on the estate and was still at school, so I worked nights down at this pub under the table to keep up with rent and he’d watch over her for a few hours. It was there that I started performing just for extra cash, like on mic nights and stuff.”

Em squinted and for the first time he opened his mouth to contribute something, “That’s where you got found, right?”

I was sure I hadn’t mentioned that in any of our conversations and so I could only guess that he’d done a little bit of digging on me, the thought made me want to laugh but instead I simply smiled. “Yeah, some scout just happened to be passing through.”

He hummed, taking that in.

“But by the time anything really came about, my brother had long since gone off to join the army and Lottie was seven.” I mentioned, eyes jumping back and forth between him and the bottle I still clung to, “I’d always taken care of her, but then I was suddenly needed elsewhere to make these dreams come true, to make money, to give her a better future.”

I knew that he could relate to that, to the utter struggle and fear I’d faced, terrified it would all fall through and I’d be left with nothing again.

“I didn’t really have a choice about leaving her though so she stayed with a neighbour at first, then her dad’s aunt who was nice enough to pop round sometimes, she was an older frail woman. I managed to actually land something eventually and started work on an album, but even after that the weight of anxiety had settled and I was working so hard just to keep all of these producers' attention.”

I swallowed thickly at the next flashback that had hastily followed.

“Shit went down while I was over here in The States.”

I felt sick each time I thought about it, hardly even dared even attempt to bring it up even to those few that knew. Lotts didn’t really remember any of it though, didn’t recall the hospital scare or my frantic need to make sure that she was okay for weeks after it had happened.

“I flew back that night and managed to sort of work things out. Threw a fucking toaster at my mum’s head I was so angry–” I snorted stupidly, “It missed. But after that I couldn’t trust her. She’d lost any sort of love I’d held for her. That was about five years ago now though, so she’s a bit different. Trying, she says. But Lotts stays with me until the very second I can’t help it.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I willed my gaze to meet his and was taken back by the intensity of his stare.

“Sounds like a piece of work.” Marshall eventually commented and it honest to God made me laugh, allowing me to fill that hollow in my heart for a second and be grateful for the ease of it, because I really wasn’t too sure if I’d been about ready to cry at his kitchen table. “But I get it.” He added, “I think it’s great what you did for her, too. She probably won’t realise that til later but you should hear it.”

I glanced away, eyes suddenly stinging and tried to smile. “Yeah, well.” I tittered, wiping the corner of my eye discreetly, “She’s staying with her now and it’s got me on edge.”

Marshall moved around the kitchen island to place a careful hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly before he ended up dragging me into a one armed hug. “You’re tough. Which means she’s gotta be too. I’m sure she’s just doing what kids do and messin’ around with her friends. Remember that’s all I did growing up, anything was better than bein’ in that house.”

A small snort escaped me as we parted, though he stayed near. “Because that’s so reassuring.”

He clucked his tongue and grinned, knocking shoulders with me, “I was a good kid, didn’t do nothin’ bad.”

“Uhuh,” I felt the need to drag out, “The image of an angel, Marshall Mathers.”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

“Dollar!”

It seemed we both jumped at the sudden reappearance of Rosie, who came sweeping into the room with a finger pointed at her father and an armful of school supplies. The skin between my brows pinched in confusion before the man beside me answered her, giving me the explanation I needed.

“For what?”

“You swore.” The girl shot back at him and climbed onto the stool beside me to settle her notebook down as well as a few pages of paper and pens.

Marshall ended huffing, unable to deny that he had and moved towards the cupboard by the large, sliding glass door.

“Maybe don’t eavesdrop on conversations. Reckon you owe a dollar for that, girlie.” He’d since grabbed a plastic tub and I was honestly surprised by the sparse amount of notes that were hidden inside it. Em must have spotted my surprise though and equated it to what it meant because he spoke again, “It gets emptied every couple a’ weeks and that monster over there gets to choose what we spend it on.”

Rosie perked up at the mention. “Last time I got him to take me fishing.”

“Fishing?” I wondered, blinking at the revelation. I looked back at Marshall and laughed, “I’m sorry but I can’t imagine you in that scenario.”

“Ha ha.” The man said impassively, widening my grin whilst he tugged two dollars out from his back pocket and shovelled them into the jar before he returned it to its rightful place.

“He only caught one.” Rosie piped up, already having written the date in that backwards way the American’s preferred, “It was real cute.”

I raised a brow and shot it Em’s way. “Cute?”

Rosie’s smile was big and bright, “Yeah! He said we had to let it go though ‘cause it was so small.”

Marshall rolled his eyes and then pointed between the pair of us. “You two keep this whole thing up imma go out to eat by myself. Bunch’a bullies, I swear.”

Rosie and I broke into a fit of giggles at that which only made the man’s expression flatten that much more, he waited for us to get over it before he looked between us and the notebook which had been laid out. “Enjoy Math, I’m gonna go grab a burger.”

“No!” I laughed brightly, spinning on my stool when he started to walk back around the island, “We want food too.”

“Yeah, we’ll start a riot, we're that hungry.” Rosie told him and I couldn’t muffle the rest of my giggles. Marshall merely rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Math, then we can talk food.” He declared, tickling his daughter’s side as he slid in beside her to get a better look at the worksheet she had. His eyes widened. “They got you using letters now too?”

Rosie’s laughter filled the kitchen and I got a first row ticket to watch her and her dad’s light ribbing as we started in on the first question. The sight of it made my heart swell in truth, it was just so easy to see how much love they held for one another.

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chamiryokuroi · 1 year

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My thoughts on Tim Drake: Robin #10 heavy spoilers under the cut

First of all got to say it wasn’t a bad ending if we consider they had to wrap up this arc in such a short amount of time, gotta give it to Meghan she managed to figure out a way to answer as many questions as possible and give us a relatively good ending for a series that I feel was canceled with no reason.

You can definitely feel that the story was planned to be done in more issues, the building blocks are all there for an amazing arc and it is sad we had to condense it all in one issue.

Now into a more in depth analysis of the comic of my favorite parts.

The Labyrinth was such and interesting point I wish we could have seen more of, specially with the fact this is the cult if Dionysus.

I absolutely adore the fact that Bernard is fully aware of Tim’s identiry because we get such funny interactions like this where Pie honestly thinks Tim is cheating on Bernard with Robin, and that panel of Bernard laughing because of that is one of my favorites for sure, boy is having so much fun, as he should.

Now in a more serious tone, this two panels tells us so much of how Tim feels, how insecure he is of his own place, not only on his family, but in the world as a whole. That second panel specifically where we see Bernard having fun while Tim is just on the bg, knowing how hard it must be for Tim to wrap his head around his sexuality even now, a year after coming out and starting dating Bernard, this feels realistic, sometimes when you come out later in life it feels as if you do not fit exactly with the community, and it can be hard to find your place.

If I had a nickel for every time a creepy cult tried to recruit Tim into their ranks I would have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it is weird that it keeps happening.

This is honestly another point that feels like it was meant to be explored for longer before the cancelation notice came. At least it gives us an explanation of why Kate was acting the way she was, it took me a while to get it but basically after Tim saved Bernard from the cult back in Urban Legends Kate went around hunting down those that managed to escape, one of them being the son of this man that appears to be the leader of the cult, the son then took his own life and Kate was taken into the labyrinth, were we know Tim was being pumped with some hallucinogen gas of some sort, depending on how long she was on the labyrinth before managing to escape that might explain her memory loss, again this is all theorizing with what we are given since there wasn’t much space for it to be explain as it should.

And now we go back to Bernard who is looking around for Tim, going to all the people that knew him as Robin, and then those words “Tim takes care of everyone… but sometimes he needs someone to take care of him” hits me straight on the feels, Bernard is such a supportive boyfriend, he is definitely what Tim needs, someone that is there for him, not only for Tim, but also Robin.

Also the fact that Bernard is making his own homemade bat-signal with his hands is just adorable to me. Boy could had probably drove to Bruce’s house, but he doesn’t need Bruce’s help right now, he needs Batman.

And of course Batman responds. Bruce why were you following Bernard? Anyways, yet another great speech from Bernard “I thought you might be a ghost. Or you weren’t real. But the truth is you look sort of normal. Like regular-people normal.” Leave it to Bernard to understand exactly what Batman is, just a normal man trying to help as best as he can.

And then he says Tim needs help, not Robin, Tim. This is just Bernard out right telling Bruce “I know, and I don’t care, because Tim is in problem and you got to find him”

And then we get the best thing, Bernard, and Tim’s friends and family, rushing in to save him, just as he was losing hope of managing to leave the labyrinth alive. Absolutely in love with Bernard’s long ass coat.

And then we get to my favorite page. The uncertainty if it is really him or another hallucination, the confirmation that it is him, it is Bernard, here to save Tim. The hug, the way Tim is holding Bernard’s face, the only thing that would had made this better would had been a kiss.

And then we get to the ending, not much to say here, I just love these two pages, Tim just finally realizing he doesn’t need to be anyone else, that he can be himself and that he is right where he belong, and that he can be happy with that. The best ending we could have hope for with what we were allowed to have.

There are obviously many questions left unanswered.

What was exactly the Cult of Dionysus? Where did it came from?

What’s going on with Bernard’s parents?

What’s up with Moriarty? Who was his boss? What was his deal with Robin/Tim??

I am sad TD:R ended the way it did, had it been given the time to develop I feel it would had gotten better. But I am glad we managed to get as much as we did, now we just have to wait and see what will DC do now with Tim, and if Bernard will stay relevant or will they brush him under the rug.

#dc #tim drake #bernard dowd #timbern #this makes no sense but I just had to speak out #td:r spoilers #spoilers

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goodnightmemes · 10 months

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MOCKINGJAY - PART TWO (2015) SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ My family hasn't come to see me. ❜

❛ You can't trust her! She's a monster! ❜

❛ I wanna help the rebels in any way I can. ❜

❛ That's not [name]. ❜

❛ I don't stand a chance if he doesn't get better. You'll never let him go. ❜

❛ That's like kissing someone who's drunk. Doesn't count. ❜

❛ I guess there are no rules anymore about what a person can do to another person. ❜

❛ We took heavy losses. ❜

❛ You think of it like a wolf den. You're not gonna fight your way in, so you've got two choices. You trap the wolves inside, or you flush 'em out. ❜

❛ There's gotta be a better way. ❜

❛ Even if those civilians are just moppin' floors, they're helping the enemy. And if they have to die, I can live with that. ❜

❛ With that kinda thinking, you can kill whoever you want. ❜

❛ Sometimes killing isn't personal. Figured if anyone knew that, it was you. ❜

❛ I, of all people, know that it's always personal. ❜

❛ Give me one reason I shouldn't shoot you. ❜

❛ I guess that's the problem, isn't it? We each have every reason to want to kill each other. So if you wanna kill me, do it. ❜

❛ I am done being a piece in his game. ❜

❛ These people are not your enemy. ❜

❛ He corrupts everyone and everything. He turns the best of us against each other. Stop killing for him. ❜

❛ You have a habit of burying people before they're dead. ❜

❛ We toasted a glorious era coming to its bitter end. ❜

❛ Oh, that speech you gave. Oh, man, feel - I mean, I still have goosebumps. ❜

❛ What about you? You feeling totally safe? ❜

❛ So what are your injuries? ❜

❛ I mean, it's everybody's job to keep you alive. ❜

❛ Is that why you hate me? ❜

❛ Feel free to take any of this personally. ❜

❛ They messed us up pretty good, didn't they? ❜

❛ He's strapped down. He can't hurt you. ❜

❛ It doesn't matter what you want. It's for [name]. ❜

❛ I watched you die. ❜

❛ I was never the nice one. You were. ❜

❛ Why would I take a beating like that for you? ❜

❛ [name] says that everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. ❜

❛ People said you loved me. ❜

❛ We're very familiar with each other's screams. ❜

❛ I'm going to kill [name]. Nothing good is safe while he's alive. ❜

❛ He needs to see my eyes when I kill him. ❜

❛ Anybody can kill anybody. Even a president. You just have to be willing to sacrifice yourself. ❜

❛ This isn't just adolescent, it's insubordination. ❜

❛ From what I see here, we've already made history. But history doesn't stop to celebrate. And we're facing an enemy that will not change and will never surrender.❜

❛ If we die, let it be for a cause and not a spectacle. ❜

❛ I know when you're gonna go off on your own. You gonna leave me behind, too? ❜

❛ You'll do whatever you're ordered to do, soldier. It's not your job to ask questions.❜

❛ In the event of capture, you'll be given a nightlock pill. A poison that acts immediately. ❜

❛ If it really came down to it, you think you could shoot him? ❜

❛ I'm plannin' for you to have a long life. ❜

❛ I've seen that look. You're trying to decide whether or not you should kill me. ❜

❛ I'm sorry. I just can't tell what's real and what's made up anymore. ❜

❛ This is a bad spot. We need to move now. ❜

❛ So now that we're dead, what are we gonna do? ❜

❛ It's only a matter of time before I snap again. I'm not in control. ❜

❛ If it gets to that point, I'll kill you myself. ❜

❛ Nobody knows we're alive. This is our chance. ❜

❛ Look at me. We're gonna get through this. I promise. ❜

❛ You're still trying to protect me. Real or not real? ❜

❛ That's what you and I do. Keep each other alive. ❜

❛ Stay with me. ❜

❛ Everyone that's dead is dead because of me. ❜

❛ I never meant for this to happen. I failed. I... I killed them. ❜

❛ If you end all of this, all those deaths, they mean something. ❜

❛ I have moments when I'm here. And my memories are getting better, but other times it's like I'm sleepwalking. ❜

❛ We got one shot. Let's make it count. ❜

❛ Let me come with you, okay? I can be a good distraction. ❜

❛ If I see you again, it's gonna be a different world. ❜

❛ I was hoping you'd find your way here. There are so many things we should discuss. ❜

❛ We both know I'm not above killing children. But I'm not wasteful. I take life for specific reasons. ❜

❛ I'm afraid we've both been played for fools. ❜

❛ Oh, my dear. I thought we'd agreed never to lie to each other. ❜

❛ You never came to see me. ❜

❛ All I know is that I was supposed to take care of your family. Now I'm sorry I couldn't. ❜

❛ Thirst for blood is a difficult urge to satisfy. ❜

❛ We need to stop viewing each other as enemies. ❜

❛ I'll say this for you, you don't disappoint. ❜

❛ You were exactly who I believed you were. ❜

❛ I'm sorry so much burden fell on you. I know you'll never escape it. But if I had to put you through it again for this outcome, I would. ❜

❛ I couldn't let you go without a proper goodbye. ❜

❛ We've all suffered so much. But we owe it to their memories and to our children to do our best with these lives. ❜

❛ You love me. Real or not real? ❜

#rp meme #sentence starter meme #sentence starters #rp sentence meme #roleplay prompts #roleplay meme #rp prompt #rp memes #inbox meme #*movie #*thg

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ladyravenblack · 3 months

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AdamXReader fic

Adam was the first man and you were determined to get in his good graces as a new winner. You had been nothing but a saint on earth, even avoided sins of the flesh, and you were certain it gave you a leg up. However he was always surrounded by those pesky angels in their imp like masks. It wasn’t very heavenly of them to be dressing so vulgar.

From the beginning of your arrival in heaven you have been throwing yourself at Adam’s feet, elegantly of course, you were always poised and never had a hair out of place. Something Adam should have been drawn to and yet he always had his eyes on that filthy little toy of his.

Other winners seemed less than fond of your dream man, but he was necessary to your success. Yes heaven was the ultimate goal, but a heaven spent with him? What more could you ever ask for? You deserve this after all your hard work on earth, this should be your prize.

Cornering one of the impish angels you insisted that they take you to Adam, but they just kept that bizarre smiling mask on and never said a word. Whatever, you would do what was needed to get to him. You discarded the angel and adorned her attire, making sure you appeared almost identical to the poor thing.

Meetings with Adam were held frequently and it was no issue attending in your disguise. No one questioned that you stood a little taller or that your hips seemed a bit wider, not even his main angel. You stood in silence, listening to his routine speech of how they would pummel the sinners in the extermination to come. A part of you felt ill, what did he mean? Then again, if Adam says it is necessary then surely it isn’t causing any real harm. And they are only sinners after all.

Afterwards you hunt him down, like a stalking lion about to capture its prey. It was almost too easy the way you slid up beside him and started to talk, ushering his side angel away. The man was pompous, it was clear to see why Lilith and Eve had left but surely under that facade of his was a gentle, caring man.

So you work it from him, constantly slithering into conversations and passing Lute out. He could do better than some fighter angel- he couldn’t possibly want someone who came home smelling like blood and death. No this was a man of great renown! Of power!

“Adam” you pur out his name, fingers making soft circles on the back of his hand, pulling his attention from Lute once again. Her glare is obvious, she’s jealous and that makes you oddly even happier to be winning. “I was thinking- dinner tonight? On the edge of the clouds?” Your voice is wispy, a soft hum to the chorus that always sounded.

He nodded sipping his drink and smashing fries in his mouth, a little uncouth but he is the first man after all, perhaps he just needs taught manners.

“Lute can come too” he speaks with his mouth full, your tight lipped smile straining at the edges as Lute giggles claiming she would love that. Her eyes are hot on your face, she’s clearly winning this part of the game and that is simply unacceptable.

“I was hoping it could be just us..?” You're forcing a soft, sensual tone in hopes of making him want more. Perhaps sin would entice the man to come to you, to be yours. It had Lilith and Eve so perhaps you’re simply using the wrong technique. His eyes shoot to yours, a giddy look in them.

“Yea yea that sounds great I know this private area” he speaks through a mouth full of food still, sipping his drink only to shove more food in his mouth. You have him excited now though, and Lute out of the mix. So what if you played into a certain sin? You already made it into heaven, they can’t kick you out right?

The meet up is coming closer and closer but time feels much slower. You clip on a pearl necklace and adjust your hair to be perfectly curled before sliding on a soft, knee length, white tea dress. The choice between nude pumps and white flats is a hard one but you decide as the clock ticks closer to the time to go that flats are best. Give him the impression of being much taller, don’t damage his manhood.

A knock at your door tells you he’s here, of course he hasn’t put on anything nice, he’s Adam. His reputation is nice enough. You link your arm with his as he texts nonstop, eyes seemingly glued to the small portable device in front of him. But, again, he’s the first man, he gets more leeway, he just needs to be taught.

You show him how to choose the right fork and how to lay the napkin proper while he rolls his eyes and scoffs.

“You’re not my dad,” he says in annoyance. You nod, stepping away and letting him once again just shovel food down his throat while you politely smile and eat calmly. He simply isn’t used to this.

After dinner he insists on a private location. A spot all to yourselves with no interruption and you agree to a nice park with red roses, his eyes narrowing. You clearly weren’t understanding him despite his efforts to get you to.

You lead him through the gardens, his eyes occasionally straying towards a flower and lingering. Genuine smile stretching his face wide. You had succeeded in giving him a night to remember and it hadn’t even come down to a carnal sin! Once done with the garden he took your hand, willingly and gently he strokes your palm as you both walk towards the winners houses.

“I usually don’t spend a lot of time with others beyond Lute” he sighs out, staring up at the ever changing colorful clouds. You nod in understanding, knowing you’re succeeding in getting him away from her. His laugh fills the air, leaving a warm pit in your belly, a swell of pride in your chest. You had made the first man laugh!

“Yes well this can happen more often” you press him gently, anxious for an agreement as he begins to nod his head when his phone buzzes and the genuine smile seems to fade. He flips the phone open and sighs.

“You know, I think these should be an ordeal more often” he sounds thoughtful as he flips his phone shut, never responding to the message he had gotten. Contentment bubbles inside you as you both go separate ways for the night.

#hazbin hotel adam #fanfic #hazbin hotel #adam x reader

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blog-of-hubris · 1 year

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Jujutsu Kaisen Chapter 238: Shinjuku Showdown, Part 19

Oh boy oh boy. Another jjk chapter with Sukuna showing off why he is the KING of Curses. Beyond his strength, he speaks like a king to those he defeats, and his meaning is very esoteric.

I'm going to go full fanboy in this post, everyone, so please forgive me if you are here to hear bad things about jjk (you're weird, btw).

Perfection...Beautiful..

Kashimo looking at Sukuna with X-ray and seeing nothing but perfection is exactly what I feel looking at Gege.

But on a serious note.. Finally, seeing Sukuna's true form in action is insane!!! He looks so terrifying, and Kashimo knew that instantly. Sukuna not having any strain on his heart or lungs due to the build of his body is so damn impressive. I love seeing him flexing his perfection to Kashimo and then blitzes him.

I love this moment because it's showing how much Kashimo overestimated his ability to fight Sukuna. I knew Kashimo was a non factor, and Sukuna made it APPARENT. He literally showed Kashimo, he just was not that good, lol. (I was never a Kashimo fan, so this is nice for me).

Sukuna is quite truly beautiful. Gege gave him such a design to reflect him being the peak of jujutsu. I just want to say thank you to gege for following through so thoroughly on this.

Then to go even farther and give us Sukuna's feats against the great sorcerers of the past was even better. He defeated the Sun, Moon, and Stars squad that Uro was once a leader of. I love Gege doing this type of stuff, man!

If you remember, Uro's vision of calamity when talking to Yuta was Sukuna, and when Sukuna revived she knew it was him just based off his cursed energy. Gege made sure that all of this was continued by giving us more lore on Sukuna's final form.

It's these little things that really move me in story telling. Connects those dots for us!

We Are Loved Because We Are Strong

Sukuna's speeches to people after defeating them is becoming one of my favorite things in jujutsu kaisen. I already loved his moment with Jogo + his final words to Gojo, but now we can add Kashimo to this list, lol.

I love Sukuna mentioning Yozoru's words to Kashimo, because it directly reflects the short conversation we saw between Kashimo and Kenjaku. Kashimo wanted to go against Sukuna to feel fulfilled. Initially, I took this as a warrior fighting for the fulfillment of a real fight, or a true fight to the death. Kashimo is similar Gojo, where he felt all the surrounding sorcerers were below him, causing him to separate himself as an entity. However, this was dissatisfying for Kashimo. The difference between him/Gojo and Sukuna, is that the king of curses accepted that as a fact of life. Due to this fact, he saw the world as his playground, and anything that went against his desires were to be destroyed.

“You know the answer you seek, you just can't comprehend it, right..?”

I love this quote by sukuna. Implying that kashimo knew all along the answer to his soul's dilemma.

“Is strength solitude”?

That question is always known by the strong, but I think sukuna's lesson was to deeper understand how to live as the strong.

“You were strong”

I see this as sukuna reminding kashimo that because of his strength, love should be known. Those under you will love you because you are strong. He goes on to tell kashimo that the ones who challenged him did not do so to curse him, but to be recognized and to validate themselves. That itself is love, or maybe an easier word to translate it would be “admiration”.

Admiration however is a product of love. That is how sukuna connects with those below him. I believe Uraume is the example of this, as he/she has been by sukuna's side for seemingly the longest. That love Uraume has is most likely the best execution of love sukuna can have for one below him.

(it makes me wonder why uraume is so special)

Telling kashimo that he was strong, but also lamenting is greedy. Wow, sukuna... when you think about it, sukuna's outlook is very royal and fits that of a being existing on a higher frequency. What Sukuna is trying to relay, is that being the strongest comes with natural love (or being strong in general). It is when you begin to hate that strength or see it as a burden that you begin to lose sight of that love. Those around you love you for your strength, even those that challenge it have some form of admiration and search for recognition from that strength.

This takes me to when Nanami said to Gojo that he also once believed they should just send him out on every mission. Gojo felt that he could never be understood, and that burden carried with him his entire adult life. Before, he had Geto who he saw as his equal, best friend and dare I say other half. That is why he wished that Geto was there, patting him on his back. Gojo felt separated from everyone, even if he loved them, he still felt isolated. I believe that Geto was Gojo's “love” and that is why he could never truly feel satisfaction.. He could never save Geto.

(Sorry to go back to the sadness that is Gojo's separation from others as a human due to his exceptional skills as a sorcerer, but all of this ties in together so well).

Kashimo and Gojo both got “greedy”. They were strong, but also wanted to hate that strength instead of taking everything that came with it and finding true satisfaction within. Gojo felt pure isolation from his talent, while Kashimo felt lament because he could never have an equal. Both of these stemming from feeling the need for others to fulfill them, which is why Sukuna believes that...

Love is Useless...

Sukuna calls love useless. I find this so intriguing, because the “love” he spoke of was surrounded by the motif of “the strong”, and also he straight up says the thought of needing someone else to fulfill him never crossed his mind. He never thought that another person would give him the satisfaction he wanted, instead he put his desires first.

“I live according to my own stature. If that can't be measured or understood, that's not my problem”.

MEGUMI? YOU HEAR THAT?!

My god i hope megumi is listening. I talk with @theanimepsychologist about megumi coming back and also how sukuna is possibly his golden shadow. To expound on this train of thought, I see all of this as Gege playing deeper into Sukuna's role as megumi's catalyst.

In simpler terms, I see Sukuna & Megumi's dynamic on the same level as Mahito & Yuji's. Mahito propelled Yuji's understanding of being a jujutsu sorcerer, while Yuji propelled Mahito as a curse. For Sukuna and Megumi, Sukuna saw Megumi's technique as something to gain. There could possibly be more he plans on doing with the ten shadows specifically, giving him an even more powerful arsenal than he had before.

For Megumi, Sukuna was the first to make him see himself as a stronger person. The words “why did you run away” stuck in megumi's mind from the first fearsome womb chapters. That was when he discovered he could place things in his shadow, and from there he began to elevate each arc.

Sukuna being in Megumi's body right now feels like a terrible journey of enlightenment for megumi. I find it interesting that sukuna states he was born cursed and unwanted. Megumi talks as if he was treated the same way, even believing his father is still alive living it up somewhere. Megumi has no idea he faced his father in shibuya, or that his dad wanted him to be something outside the zenin clan. Even if he did end up there, he believed megumi would be okay because he was talented. Megumi never saw himself as wanted by his family, and his cope for that was Tsumiki.

Sukuna was different, he chased after his desires alone. He believed he could make himself happy, and that there was no one else who could fulfill that. Megumi losing Tsumiki is so difficult for him because he relied on Tsumiki as his heart and conscious. At first, megumi was indifferent, but expressed himself boldly. Tsumiki's positive outlook is what moved megumi, and that was all the family he had. Megumi isn't heartless as sukuna may naturally be, but his decision to save people has left him too selfless.

For megumi to return, I need to see his understanding of self-worth change. He needs to see his strength and importance as an individual to truly understand the love that comes from being strong. In order to save people, you need strength, but you cannot develop that strength without having a stronger sense of self to dismantle any sparks that fly your way.

"Its okay to be selfish"

"A jujutsu sorcerer's growth never comes easy"

(I could continue on about this megumi and sukuna connection but i think my point is made)

That is why Sukuna said love is useless. There is no need to look to another to satisfy yourself. To understand yourself is to understand your desires. And to be true to one's self is to chase after those desires without remorse. He hasn't changed a beat from when he spoke to Jogo, and I love consistency.

What Can You Do...Brat?

The final spread of the chapter was C R A Z Y! Uraume and Hakari break out of the domain with no damage on either person, while Higaruma and Yuij (with scales and claws??) begin to drop.

WTH?

My assumption is that they are going to try to get Sukuna into Higaruma's domain to win a trial and take away Sukuna's CT. This could work, but I'm worried that even without a CT, sukuna is still going to be very proficient in his raw CE usage unlike the other sorcerers Higaruma has faced. Maybe that is all they need to start the process to save megumi, or something else entirely crazy that only gege can come up with!

Truly endless possibilities.

Gege is continuing to Gege (whatever that means) and I will continue to not miss a beat. I believe we have a break coming up, so we will have to digest on this chapter a bit before we figure out what's going on!

#jjk 238 #jujutsu kaisen chapter 238 #jjk meta #jujutsu kaisen meta #jujutsu kaisen manga #jjk 238 meta #gege akutami #weekly shonen jump #dh🍵#jujutsu kaisen #manga #manga meta

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oddballwriter · 7 months

Text

Stranger Than Fiction

Summary: Marc moves into a cabin in the woods to escape the risks of being found out as a werewolf but as he lives amongst nature and hears a few tales, he finds that he's not the only living piece of folklore around the forest.

Warnings: Werewolf nonsense. Mentions of forest spirits and fae. The reader is a forest spirit/fae type being in the forest. The reader is referred to using she and her and with fem-associated adjectives. Marc is kind of emo in the beginning but honestly, he's always been like that, like that's just how he is. Only Marc is here and there is no mention or implication of Steven or Jake.

Author’s Snip: I wrote this in one sitting late at night so if any of the grammar or sentences are weird then I'm sorry and also blame my grammar-checking software for not getting it.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 1,691

Living in the middle of nowhere woods seems like it would be a given for a man inflicted with being a werewolf to live, but this would be the first time Marc has actually taken on that life. Regardless of the fact that he's from the city of Chicago, the exact opposite of a vast untouched green of nature. In the end, it was for the best, for everyone. He wouldn't run the risk of getting hunted down for what he is, and no one would panic over a wolf creature running loose in the city.

Marc wanted to fade away into the forest and live alone where the forest could hide him both when in and out of his monstrous state. He had found and bought a cabin property deep in the forests of southern Illinois, a very different place than he's used to, but he can adapt. He always has.

When he made it all the way there he got a good in-person look at it. It was nice. Homey. It would do well and he could see a comfortable living in it. It's far from the nearest official town but that's how he wanted it. It's far enough away that no one will bother him or catch the sight of him on a full moon. Even with the nearest cabin considered it was a good enough distance. It was perfect. He could hide here.

Marc did have to meet his 'neighbor', so to speak. He was the man who lived in the cabin nearest to him, as mentioned before. He came saying that he was aware that someone new had come along and wanted to give him a warm welcome. Although Marc wasn't much of a social person he decided to humor the man since he had driven the whole way here and came bearing gifts. Those gifts were food from his personal garden saying "I know there's a market in town but nothing beats the ones you grow in unaltered nature. They're pure and clean, nothing added but what the dirt's already got in it.". Some hippie-ish stuff about Mother Earth and all that. Marc could tell that this man was one of those old men who was tired of the world and wanted to live off the land. Power to him, but Marc couldn't shake off the feeling of being preached at.

Eventually, the man wrapped up his speech, or so Marc thought. Apparently, the pause that Marc took as a wrap was actually the man rerouting his topic. "You ever hear the legends, son?" the man asks. Marc scrunches his face in confusion, "The what?" he asks.

"You know, the legends! About the things that exist here in woods like this." the man exclaims as if Marc was kidding around with him, "The fae folk, the forest spirits, nymphs, what have you." he lists off. Marc shakes his head, "I'm not really a folklore and mythos kind of person." Marc says half-heartedly with a shrug. "Oh, they aren't just stories. I've met a few people who claim to have seen a thing or two here." the man smiles.

Marc crosses his arms unsure of where this guy is going with this. "I'm guessing you're going to tell me about some local cryptid?" Marc asks. "Oh, she's no cryptid, son. She's real. And she's everywhere." the man laughs in a way that is meant to be lighthearted but seems slightly ominous with the words he's said. "And... who is she?" Marc questions. The man clears his throat from his laugh and spins this small tale, "She's believed to be some kind of forest spirit who lives and watches over this part of the forest here. Wandering around making sure no one takes more than they need and occasionally watching those who are here from a distance to see what you're up to." the man explains.

"Some say they see her and that she's as beautiful as the land itself and changes with it in the seasons but she's a hard chase of you try to catch her, running as fast as a quick breeze and disappearing into the trees and the sound of the leaves rustling. but those who try to chase her say that you can hear her giggle in the rustling like it's a game of tag. If you stay on her good side then she has the breeze carry the scent of the forest for you to enjoy and has wild flowers grow around your cabin or helps grow any plants you might have." the man says further.

Again, just some hippie-spiritual-mythos junk, but that story sounds amusing at least. "And what if I make her mad?" Marc asks and that man begins again.

"Oh, well if you get her mad then she has all the trees pent you with their seed pods and nuts or she gets the animals involved. She sends them down to either dig up your property or scare the hell out of you in the middle of the night. Let me tell you something, son. Stags and deer are pretty in the day, but at night when it's just them and their bright unmoving stares in the middle of the darkness it's the thing of nightmares. And if she's real mad by hurting nature then she lets it take a bite right back at you, and Mother Nature is a fearsome thing when scorned." the man tells Marc, with occasional add-ins.

Marc scoffs at the stories and nods along. "You laugh but I swear to it. She's here and she keeps to her deeds. I got greedy last hunting season and shot an extra rabbit. Soon after that, a whole hoard of the little bastards came and ate up all my home-grown food and the squirrels were throwing the scraps in their burrows at me from the trees." he swears. "I still get pelted with one every now and then and at this point I think she's just trying to be funny." he adds.

After some more back and forth, the man leaves to let Marc have his first night in peace as the sun sets and baths the forest in a golden glow. Marc takes the luxury of not having it be a full moon any time soon and watches as the light goes from gold to a soft deep blue and purple and then the black of the night. He can hear the distant sounds of crickets talking in their chirps. As Marc settles into bed and lies in the quiet he finds himself thinking about the story that the man told him. He still feels disbelief in the tale but there's a part of him that doesn't want to be too skeptical. He is a werewolf who came to hide in the forest after all.

After a brief amount of time living in the cabin and counting down the days till his next turn with the full moon, Marc finds himself simply existing in the area around his new home. The trees are still lush with green leaves that shield away the sun but still allow it to be bright enough. He's been using his time outside of going into town to get supplies for the cabin occasionally picking up litter and trash and getting rid of all the dead leaves that have gathered while the cabin has been unoccupied.

He jokes to himself, calling out "I'm cleaning your forest. I hope that's okay with you." to the air as if the tales are true and you truly are watching him. However, he does notice that in the passing days, the patches of dirt around his cabin are being taken by green grass and some wildflowers are starting to bud from miscellaneous spots, and sometimes he smells the scent of the trees as the wind blows by occasionally but he just deems it a coincidence each time.

The first time he had a sign that he was wrong in his dismissal came soon after though on the night first turn here and the morning after. It happened like any other full moon. He painfully turns, runs and wanders the area, all of which is in a blur that feels like watching a slide show of photos taken and various moments. It all happens as it normally does but as he wakes he sees glimpses in his memories of a figure who is illuminated by the moonlight just away from sight but as he looks at them in his memories he feels no sense of danger. Instead just watches from afar as he moves along.

But when Marc truly wakes up, his body aching, and the morning sun burning his sore eyes he finds something strange. He's lying with a ring of flowers around him and some on him. He sits up in shock despite his muscles still recovering after the stress of changing twice in the span of the night. He catches some of the flowers as they roll off seeing that they are picked wildflowers and dandelions, and so are the ones around him.

Marc is reasonably confused and fearful. Did someone find him? Did they see everything? Why did they pick flowers and put them around him? Where the hell are they now? The flowers are still fresh and haven't started sagging yet. All these questions ran through his mind. But just as he's about to call out, he feels a soft breeze pass him and the smell of the forest come to his nose.

Marc looks around and his eyes fall on you a bit away blending in with the colors and hues of the trees and foliage, almost in beautiful camouflage with the surroundings. Marc calls out to you and stammers to get up, but his legs give and he falls back down. He looks back up but you're gone just like that.

Marc is at a loss for words but settles on a confused but still appreciative "Thank you." for the seemingly kind gesture of covering him in flowers, whatever that means, feeling that you're still around to hear it.

Taglist: @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

#moon knight #moonknight #moon knight x reader #moonknight x reader #marc spector #marc spector x reader #werewolf!moonboys #werewolf #werewolf au #werewolf!marc spector #fae!reader

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fatfables · 6 months

Text

Abundance, Oklahoma

A short companion piece to my full length fat fable 'Camp Shawn'

Mr Nimby’s palms were itching. He scratched and scratched at them until they were sore with red marks running down the middle. He held his left hand up to his nose and his right nostril flared as he took a big sniff. He grimaced and pulled his face away from his hand.

“What on Earth are you doing?” Mrs Catinhellschance asked him.

Being rather a short man he looked up at the old woman, and frowned. He had never liked the crazy old bat but this damn new settlement had made allies of them. After all, who in their right mind would want a fat cult moving in down the road? Those people were crazier than she was, and she stunk of urine and screamed at passing cars.

“I’m preparing for my speech. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Well, it better be a good one. They got that famous lawyer man coming. Ya know, the old Swedish one from the TV news.”

Who the fuck still watches the TV news, he thought. “Yes, I’m well aware of that, Irene, thank you.”

“He’s very good, ya know.”

“I know, Irene. He’s also very old. Quite frankly it’s amazing that he’s still alive given the damn size of him!”

“Human rights lawyer, he is.”

“Yes, Irene, I know!” He was on the verge of losing his temper.

“No need to shout at me, Mr Nimby, I’m only trying to help.”

“I know that as well, Mrs Catinahellschance. None of us want this. These people are batshit crazy.”

“Who’s batshit crazy?”

They both turned round to see Mr Bunterson, famed human rights lawyer from the TV news slowly making his way towards them. He was at least eighty years old, had a full head of wild, curly, grey hair, and a walking stick in each hand to help him keep his balance and take the stress off his spine, caused by the planet sized belly that he was rocking up front.

Mr Nimby and his neighbour tried their best not to stare at the old man’s waistline but it was very hard not to. How often does one see a 500 lb plus octogenarian?

“I can only assume that you are referring to myself or my clients?” Steve said.

“Too right!” Mr Nimby said. “We don’t want your kind here. You’re a disgrace to this country!”

Steve Bunterson instinctively let out a massive burp that he had been saving up, “Buuuurrrrrppppppp!” He blew it in Mrs Catinahellschance’s direction.

“Sorry,” he said, “Too much Dr Pepper in the car.”

“Vile man,” she spat at him, “Puerile, like a spoiled child!”

“And what is wrong with spoiling children Mam? Aren’t children meant to be doted on? The twinkle in our eyes? Do you not believe that the children of America should have everything that they want?”

“No, we do not! Isn’t that right, Mr Nimby?”

“Yes, that’s right! You people represent everything that is wrong with this country!”

What a fucking idiot, Steve thought. He was about to speak when a fourth person entered the hallway. It was the chairman of the town council, Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks.

“Ah hello Mr Bunterson, so pleased to see you! It’s a real honour to have you here in our town. You must be looking forward to putting your plans forward” He reached out a large Indian hand and shook Steve’s soft wrinkled palm with genuine warmth.

“It’s very nice to be here. And yes I’m really excited about the Abundance proposal. I think that it will bring a lot of growth to the region.”

“Bollocks!” said Mr Nimby abruptly.

Steve Bunterson turned and looked down at the small man over the rim of his round glasses, individually designed at great expense to match his round face.

“Very strange turn of phrase for an Okie?” He said, “Have you spent a lot of time in the UK? Mr er..”

“Nimby! The names Nimby. And no I’ve not. Though I do like to watch a lot of their comedies online.”

“Hmmm, not surprising for a man who hates America. Did you know that Mr Nimby was a red coat-wearing self-hater?” He aimed the question at Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks.

“No I did not, but I can’t say that I’m at all surprised.”

Mr Nimby tried to protest this childish name-calling but he was spoken down by the much larger chairman.

“You must be very hungry Mr Bunterson. You’ve come a long way today. We have prepared a special buffet meal before the meeting.”

“I thought you’d never ask!” Steve smiled widely at Mrs Catinahellschance, purposefully pushed his belly out and made a loud noise out of not saying goodbye to either her or Mr Nimby.

Stupid people like that clearly weren’t worth bothering with. The two of them obviously thought that their protests might actually work. They were both far too stupid to know that they hadn’t just already lost but had in fact lost ten times over.

Steve was sat at a large round table with Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks, four young members of the Surplus and three rotund local supporters. Eight of the party glutted themselves to the limits of human endurance while one of them spoke at great length.

Considering his advanced years, Steve still knew how to eat. He was now more than 200 lbs lighter than his heaviest ever weight, a consequence of the limited medical technology available to him, but he still more than enjoyed his food.

One day the youth of America would no longer need to be restricted by such basic things as the limits of evolution, but that day had not come yet. Steve filled his face with oysters, shrimp, crab legs, and lobster. He quaffed down the quail, and chugged down the champagne. He had developed a real taste for expensive cuisine in his older years. The younger Surplus stuck to pizza, fries, and burgers.

Plate after plate was delivered to the table in order to save the guest of honour from having to fetch his own food, and the empties started to pile up as the serving staff struggled to clear the table quickly enough. One Surplus boy, Kaden, 22 years old and just over 300 lbs, was keen to show his abilities off to his elder. He ate so many burgers and cocked back so much Coke that he burst the buttons off his best shirt as his belly bulged. To his delight Steve raised a toast to his achievement and demanded that they all have another round of three more plate fulls in celebration.

Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks didn’t care one way or the other about the behaviour of his gluttonous guests, he was already dreaming about his upcoming trip to Rio. As far as he was concerned if the white man wanted to eat himself to death then he was more than welcome to do so. He didn’t even raise a note of concern or dismay when the young Surplus and rotund locals started farting wildly at the table. He had done his homework and knew that this was an old Surplus tradition dating back to the camp, so didn’t want to offend his paying guests by commenting on it.

After two hours of eating it was time for the meeting to begin. Himself, Steve Bunterson, and Mr Nimby moved to a long table at the front of the room so that they could take it in turns to address the attendees.

Steve was very slow to stand and even slower to walk. His replacement knees were suffering from the strain of having to hold up his bulk. His 500 lb frame was now swollen to the max and his huge round low-hanging gut swayed as he shuffled forwards with small heavy steps. Two thousand miles away his twin brother, Henry, was sitting on his sofa eating four whole pavlovas while a servant boy tried to massage the pain away from his fat swollen legs.

Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks spoke first and at great length. He took ten minutes to go through the attendees, twenty minutes to go over the minutes of the last meeting and half an hour to introduce Steve and the topic of the night. Fortunately for the young Surplus and their local rotund friends there was still plenty of food left on offer to keep them entertained. Poor old Steve just had to sit and listen to it, wishing that he was younger and still sat at the table with the other fat boys.

Second to speak was Mr Nimby. This in itself irritated him and he spent fifteen minutes complaining about the fact that the anti-proposal speaker should really get to speak after the proposal in order to be able to rebut it. Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks interrupted him three times to state that the order of the speakers had been chosen at random. Mr Nimby finally got to his point.

“The Surplus are an unethical, immoral cult that threatens the basis of our country. This obsession with growing as fat as possible may now be very popular but that doesn’t make it right. As decent law-abiding people we should reject them and their principles. Allowing them to build a whole town dedicated to making its citizenry as obese as possible in our county would be not only an acceptance of their way of life but an approval of it…”

His speech was interrupted by a slice of strawberry cheesecake hitting him straight in the face. A loud cheer erupted from the table of fat boys.

He wiped the sweet sticky dessert from his cheeks and continued.

“That, ladies and gentleman, that is the level of people that we are dealing with! These disgusting gluttonous pigs have no conscience! If we allow them to build on Peterson’s Farm then that is what we are welcoming into our community. And I for one want nothing to do with it!”

Mrs Catinhellschance, sat at the back of the room, attempted to applaud him but she was easily drowned out by the boo’s of seven severely obese young men, who jeered and pelted him with after dinner mints. He sat back down.

Steve Bunterson rose slowly to his feet. His distended belly bashed into the table in front of him as he stood, knocking over his drink and those of his fellow speakers. He waved a fat old hand up and down to beckon the boys to quieten. They did so immediately.

“Mr Nimby is a moron. He is an antiquated idiot. His outdated ideas of morality belong firmly in the last century. A century of untold wars and horrors. He dare not speak it but he clearly believes in the debunked ideals of public health. Of the type that have been rejected by the vast majority of Americans. He seeks only to curtail the liberty of us all. He wishes to deny all of us the right to enjoy our own bodies, to pursue happiness through eating. This is not only unconstitutional, it is downright un-American! This man hates America, he told me so himself earlier this evening. And beyond even this he is not only wrong in his beliefs but he is also wrong in his facts. We are no longer planning to build our new town on Peterson’s Farm but on the reservation. This sale of private land has been agreed with Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks and the rest of his tribe. A fair and legal agreement between the original inhabitants of this great land and a people who represent its great future.”

Fourteen young heavy hands banged on the large round table in pronounced agreement. Mr Nimby looked at the chairman next to him in total surprise.

“Is this true?” He asked him.

“Yes,” said Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks, “We signed the contract yesterday. The new town of Abundance will be built on twenty seven acres of reservation land. As such the consent of the town council is no longer required. I invited Mr Bunterson to tonight’s meeting as an act of courtesy to the town’s folk so that he himself could talk to you and explain the benefits.”

Mr Nimby slumped defeated in his chair. Steve Bunterson’s smile was as wide as his stomach. Fuck these ignorant inbred assholes, he thought. No one would stand in his way.

He rose once more to his feet, scratched at the top of his huge belly, straining under his designer 6XL shirt, and began to speak again.

“Every American youth has the option to choose our way of life. To choose a fulfilling life of abundance in Abundance. I want every boy in this great country to be able to grow into his full potential. To be the biggest and best that he can be. It is not only his right, it is his birthright! Gaining is the epitome of the American dream and I repudiate anyone who says otherwise. I was lucky as a child that my father cared deeply about me and my brother. He cared enough to not just let us be who we wanted to be but to help and encourage us every bite of the way. He understood human rights better than anyone. While so-called public health crusaders tried to deny us a right to life, liberty, and happiness, through intrusive social programmes that went against the spirit of the founding fathers, our father sent us to fat camp in order for us to indulge in our passion. Meanwhile the public health lunatics attempted to ban trans-fats, they attempted to limit the variety of food available in schools, attempted to limit portion sizes at fast food restaurants, attempted to limit the number of restaurants and food stalls through anti-business zoning laws, there was all sorts of government overreach going on, but we fought them all! And we were victorious! We grew as fat as we wanted in spite of them, and thanks to ever improving medical technology we will continue to grow to new unheard of sizes without any negative health effects! I was once over 700 lbs and lived a perfectly happy life. You my boys, you the future of the Surplus, the future of America, you will soon be able to grow to over 1000 lbs at least! That I have no doubt about. And you will be able to do it in a town called Abundance!”

There were loud cheers from the large round table as shouts of “Hip hip hooray” started up. Steve received a standing ovation from his corpulent young followers and a few more heavy set people in the room.

“And now my friends, we shall feast to celebrate!”

Steve sat back down at the large round table as Chief Likestotalkandtakespaybacks spoke again for another twenty five minutes in order to bring the meeting to an end. Mrs Catinhellschance and Mr Nimby tried to slink quietly out of the door but an extra-large apple pie hit him in the ass as he did so.

The elderly Steve Bunterson, attorney at law, four young Surplus, and three new recruits continued to stuff themselves stupid with desserts for the next three hours. They guzzled down gateaux, chomped their chubby chops on chocolate cheesecakes, and downed dozens of delicious dairy donuts each. They swallowed every item in sight until they all strained and heaved around the waist. Every one of them extended themselves to a delirious level. Eight tight stomach bags groaned with delight. More buttons popped and every one of them had to undo his belt and fly in order to let his delightfully overfull belly breath.

Steve was so impressed with his fat young charges that he let three of them come back to his hotel room so that they could fellate him and each other.

Click here to read the first of three parts of 'Camp Shawn'.

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 1 year

Note

A sort of alternate take on Jack’s introduction to the arena, note that Heracles is introduced first

Brunhilde didn’t want people to think she chose Jack the Ripper because that could potentially give the wrong impression especially with the real Jack the Ripper potentially in the crowds somewhere

This is what Heimdall says

“London was plagued by The Ripper, who slaughtered five women. But why did he stop his killings? Was it because he was caught on another crime? No. Was it that he died of natural causes or in an accident, maybe even took his own life? No. The killings of The Ripper stopped because an even greater killer found and ended his reign of terror.” You choose the reaction of the crowds and everyone here but Jack begins to walk out at this moment “A killer of killers, this man, no, this legend, was not given a name as a child, on his records he is only known as The Boy Who Will Become Jack. He ended serial killers as a passion, weaving artwork none would ever see, the best assassins ever were no match for him, none could truly kill him. What do we call him? Do we name him Jack the Ripper, after the monster that he killed? No! There is only one fitting name for one such as he. Gods and Humans I give you the very embodiment of the legend you all know, the monster that went bump in the night, I give you Spring-Heeled Jack!!!”

What are the reactions of Hercules and those in the crowd?

Ooh~ I love this take on the character!

-With the threat of the possible real Jack the Ripper being in the crowd watching Ragnarok, Brunnhilde didn’t want to take the chance of putting her fighter at risk.

-She also didn’t want to give people the wrong idea of selecting such a vile and evil man as Jack the Ripper, but Mr. Anonymous gave her a different name to use, one she agreed to.

-The stadium was revealed to look like the dark streets of London, those in attendance in awe over how quickly it had been built.

-Hercules was impressed as he entered, looking at the foreign architecture, turning around to see all the details, impressed before he looked up to see Heimdall in a balloon over the arena, so he could MC from above.

-Heimdall’s speech brough chills to many, shocking the public to hear who Hercules’ opponent was, “London was plagued by The Ripper, who slaughtered five women. But why did he stop his killings? Was it because he was caught on another crime? No. Was it that he died of natural causes or in an accident, maybe even took his own life? No. The killings of The Ripper stopped because an even greater killer found and ended his reign of terror.”

-At this moment, Jack started to walk out, the sound of his cane on the cobblestone ringing out as Heimdall continued, “A killer of killers, this man, no, this legend, was not given a name as a child, on his records he is only known as The Boy Who Will Become Jack. He ended serial killers as a passion, weaving artwork none would ever see, the best assassins ever were no match for him, none could truly kill him. What do we call him? Do we name him Jack the Ripper, after the monster that he killed? No! There is only one fitting name for one such as he. Gods and humans I give you the very embodiment of the legend you all know, the monster that went bump in the night, I give you Spring-Heeled Jack!!!”

-Hercules’ eyes went wide in shock as the man in question made it to him, offering him a polite bow at the waist, tipping his hat to him.

-Hercules had been a bit worried his opponent was a violent man who had killed women so violently, but to learn that the man before him, Jack, was a killer of killers, taking out violent people like Jack the Ripper to keep others safe, his grip tightened on his club, feeling swirling emotions bubbling up inside of him.

-On one hand, Jack was a killer, he killed others, but those people he killed were all violent people, killers themselves, and he would only kill people like them, so only he remained.

-Jack didn’t go after innocents, which Hercules had to admire, knowing that people like women and children were safe. He had to respect his opponent, giving him a firm nod, eyes focused in determination, “I love humanity, but as your opponent, I’m not going to go easy on you!”

-Jack smiled softly, having seen the emotions swirling around the larger man, knowing that this man was unlike the other men he hunted, seeing his fire, his determination.

-He bowed once more at the waist, “Your color is stunning, come- let us create a masterpiece!”

-Many of the humans were surprised to see that Brunnhilde had chosen a bogey-man of off humans to face off against Hercules, while those who knew of Spring Heeled Jack were a rather afraid to see him in the flesh, having grown up knowing about him.

-Many of the gods were laughing, seeing this thin looking man facing off against Hercules, Zeus included as he yelled at Hercules to end the match quickly.

-As the fight started, many were stunned to see how agile and actually physically strong Jack was, able to scale walls with ease, lay out intricate traps, usually meant to catch his usual pray, but were good distractions so he could hide and wait for a big attack.

-When he pulled himself up off the iron fence, many were in shock that he didn’t seemed bothered by it, almost like he was a demon, a monster.

-Jack could sense the fear around him, but nothing in his opponent, but he had a feeling that his favorite color wasn’t going to appear in his opponent, no matter what, but that still didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try~

#record of ragnarok #ror heracles #ror jack the ripper

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lesbiansforboromir · 2 years

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Boromir and Faramir in the films are such comical characters when looked at from a certain angle. Like on the face of it they've got this terrible father who's driven mad by power hunger and a paternalistic need to continue his bloodline, so he disparages his younger son for some reason and supports his golden child eldest, okay, awful... but when you look at the actual actions of his two sons... HE'S KIND OF RIGHT!

Like Gondor is still definitely at war with Mordor in the films, no matter how much worse at it they are than in the books, BUT whilst Boromir is there they're doing things like winning entire cities back from the enemy AND Somehow defending themselves AGAINST the enemies apparently holding Osgiliath beforehand which is literally right next to all their farmlands AND WITHOUT EVEN THE RAMMAS BETWEEN THEM??.. Boromir makes a speech with such blatant optimism and such weirdly frivolous priorities like 'lets retake all the cities we have lost and make music and beauty in them again!' it's the speech of a pretty victorious country, not a country 60 years into a war of attrition where the measure of success is 'how much can we delay our inevitable defeat'. And the Steward even PERSONALLY arrives in this just-won warzone- like! the confidence the Boromir-lead Gondorian army has is unbelievable.

And then Boromir leaves... and everything absolutely falls apart. The the chronological next update we get about Gondor's situation is that Osgiliath is EASILY taken (almost immediately after Faramir arrives from Ithilien which begs the question why were you hiding in the woods if an attack was so imminent and how were you taken so unawares), the entire garrison is routed and sent fleeing madly and haplessly back to Minas Tirith and most of them are either killed on the way or killed during the first attack (which sees Faramir running about dazed with clearly no real knowledge of where most of his men are or what they're doing, needing to be literally saved from traps his subordinates create independently without his knowledge.) Faramir even shouts 'Nazgul' as though they definitely are already very accustomed to these creatures and yet still have no way to combat them apparently!

And then Denethor's like, retake Osgiliath! Which, whilst in the moment seems mad, if we're running on what BOROMIR accomplished, is a completely reasonable request! Faramir is like 'Osgiliath is overrun'- it was when Boromir retook it too! But what does Faramir do with this request? Accepts it as a death sentence and does NO PLANNING whatsoever. Literally eleven year olds with no prior military experience would be able to tell you that charging cavalry at a city WITH LINES OF ARCHERS is the most useless asinine action possible, but that's what Faramir does! And in the end he gets ALL THOSE MEN KILLED because of it!

So looking at it all this way... we've got a head of state (who's a pretty normal guy, not especially brilliant at ruling and struggling with the pressures of his responsibilities) his heir and eldest son who's this savant style military leader who was essentially the load bearing rock which was holding up the entirety of Gondor's sub-par military prowess and whom his father is relying on for essentially everything at this point, and the youngest fail-son brother who's only skills are #1 firing bow #2 telling others to fire bow at the right time and #3 looking sad. Literally IN the extended edition conversation, apparently Faramir lost Osgiliath THE FIRST TIME TOO, LIKE THIS IS TWICE THIS MAN HAS ALLOWED THIS FORTRESS TO BE BESIEGED AND TAKEN IN IT'S ENTIRETY!! WEST AND EAST OF THE RIVER!! Faramir makes this excuse like 'we had too few men' and everyone believes him but given Denethor's DERISIVE reaction at that and what ELSE we see of Faramir's military prowess, IT DOES SOUND LIKE AN EXCUSE TO ME. Even Boromir is like he TRIES to do your will, as in 'dont be mean to him he's doing his best!' Denethor's like 'dont trouble me with Faramir I know his uses and they are few' and Boromir has NOTHING to say against it cus he knows he's right!! Of course Denethor would only be able to trust Boromir to go get the ring,

Gondor's film!situation is an entire country of sub-par dudes plus Boromir who apparently was born with every single braincell the rest of them are lacking and whom has a VERY REAL UNDERSTANDING that literally everything is up to him to fix 'He looks to me to make things right and I will do it' who else is going to do it??? Certainly not Faramir!! It's so funny, no wonder he's so emotionally fragile and desperate for Aragorn's approval, he's just looking for ONE SINGLE OTHER GUY whose halfway competant to work with here. They didn't give him the 'Gondor wanes you say but Gondor stands and even at the end of it's strength it is still very strong' line because it narratively would have been a complete lie.

#film critical #erran vs peter jackson #text post #film!boromir #film!denethor #film!faramir #lotr #long post

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ciaossu-imagines · 8 months

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I spin off exploring Yamapapa’s past… I’m glad I’m not the only one who’s thought of this before or thought of him extensively in general. He’s such an interesting character and there’s so much to explore there!!! We need more of him 😭

Why/when did he start learning to use the sword? Why did he stop? What was his master like? Why did he become a sushi chef? So! Many! Questions!

-R

Okay, so I struggled a little bit to answer this, but not because I don't have the ideas. I have so, so many ideas and thoughts and love for this man. I actually struggled because, all things willing and if I allow myself the time, not only will you guys all actually see this written as an actual 'light novel' style format (without the pretty pictures, unless I can start affording commissions), but you'll have most of it, if not all of it, by the end of 2025, along with similar 'Secret Bullet' side-novels, all in varying stages of completion, written by me (so not at all officially canon) for Shamal's past, and the Arcobaleno's pasts, the lead up to that fateful day they became Arcobaleno's, and the direct aftermath of that for each of them. Those are all projects, along with some self-indulgent stuff I want to work on with OC's and self-inserts and just fun little things over the next couple years. So when answering this, I kind of wanted to cover everything but also kind of just wanted to go bare basics so you guys wouldn't be too spoiled. I kind of tried to hit a happy medium and hope you enjoy the headcanons I did provide.

First off, let's go with the obvious. For any of you wondering how you should go about picturing younger Tsuyoshi...there's really a huge father-son resemblance. Tsuyoshi looked a lot like Yamamoto does currently, except a little broader and with a bit sharper of features.

That's not the only similarity between father and son though. Tsuyoshi even acts a lot like his son does during the actual manga. Growing up, he was sociable, friendly, good-natured, seemingly laid back with a hidden very serious side, athletic and honestly, he was always popular with not only his peers but the adults around him as well, who always commented on what a nice boy he was.

He comes from a good home, with two happily married parents who love him and support his interests and hobbies. His family isn't rich, but they're not poor either. His love of cooking was actually fostered from a young age. His mother's dream had always been to open a noodle shop of her own and his father also enjoyed cooking, so it became a family affair that Tsuyoshi was allowed to join in on as soon as his little hands were able to actually be put to good. Cooking the family meals together and then sitting down to enjoy their hard work are some of Tsuyoshi's favourite childhood memories, to be honest.

I do think, around the age of five, that Tsuyoshi was blessed with a little sister who he really doted upon. They had a real strong bond and that was, for all extents and purposes, his best friend, even while he had many other friends.

I think Tsuyoshi gained an interest in kendo around that age too and he really threw himself into the sport, practicing and training in it for years. He wasn't fantastic at first but he really pushed himself, much like his son does with baseball, and he genuinely loved doing so. With his hard work, dedication, and natural athleticism, he really did hone his skills and was winning championships within his first couple years of the sport.

This really continued up until he was in middle school, when an incident with his sister being caught up in some bullying Tsuyoshi was receiving from those jealous of his success in a kendo tournament happened. His sister was gravely injured, to the point she was hospitalized with a severe concussion, among some other lighter physical injuries, that resulted in some permanent memory issues and a slight speech impediment. Of course, the speech impediment and memory issues led to her getting bullied by classmates afterwards and moving forward and his formerly super-cheerful and perky sister started to become depressed.

I think that's what really drove Tsuyoshi to want to study the sword more seriously. While he had thought his kendo skills enough to really protect those precious to him, he'd experienced first hand that they really weren't enough. He wanted....no, he needed, to gain enough power to protect those he loved if anything were to ever happen again.

I think it was his former kendo teacher who really introduced Tsuyoshi to the woman who would become his master. The former generation's Shigure Soen Ryu successor and the creator of the Shibuki Ame, she saw Tsuyoshi's earnestness, his resolve, and his good heart and took him into her school.

I think she was a very strict teacher, but also incredibly fair. She did genuinely care for and, in her own way, deeply respect and love every single one of her pupils. While she pushed them hard, wasn't hesitant at all to attack them pretty harshly while training, and demanded improvement and dedication, she also would take extra time to help anyone who was struggling, would offer counsel and words of wisdom. She also didn't mind Tsuyoshi's sister often tagging along to her brother's practice sessions, since Tsuyoshi hoped it would cheer her up.

It's in this school that Tsuyoshi realizes that he's actually incredibly gifted, quite naturally so, in the use of a sword and he quickly makes a name for himself. Not only that, but he quickly finds himself popular among the students. That is, of course, nice, but Tsuyoshi also goes out of his way to befriend the one student nobody else seems to like. The previously best student, the boy is more shy, almost anxious about talking to people, and suffers from some self-esteem issues he hides behind bravado and harsh words. Of course, all that effort to hide those bad feelings behind those kind of things doesn't exactly endear him to the other students, who only see the front he puts on. Tsuyoshi gets to know him better and the two become fast friends and friendly rivals. A girl from the class (who will later on become Tsuyoshi's bride) rounds out the foursome of Tsuyoshi, his sister, his rival, and this girl. They really spend a lot of time together, become the closest friends all the rest have.

That rivalry though...it starts to get less and less friendly as time goes on, especially when the two are chosen as the potential successors to Shigure Soen Ryu. By that time, there are also other bad feelings festering on the side of Tsuyoshi's rival. See, not only is he always feeling inadequate to Tsuyoshi, but Tsuyoshi has started dating the other girl, spending most of his time with her, and his rival and best friend is feeling left out. Add to that the rival's long-standing love for Tsuyoshi's sister, which he has confessed to her numerous times, to always get rebuffed. The rival really blames Tsuyoshi for that too, thinking that he's poisoning his sister against the rival (and in some ways, he's not entirely wrong, as Tsuyoshi is an overly protective big brother and does see some troubling things in his friend that, though he loves the boy like a brother, he doesn't feel would be well suited for a man worthy of dating his sister).

It culminates in Tsuyoshi getting handed his master's Shigure Kintoki before the rival does, getting the chance and the master's confidence in him becoming the official successor.

That's right...while a lot of people have the friend Tsuyoshi is saving during that typhoon as the other potential successor, and I've worked myself with that idea before and see a lot of merit and potential in it, I really see it the opposite. His rival and former best friend is the person he's protecting his friend from during that typhoon.

His best friend. His flesh and blood. And his friend turned more. All three had been coming from the school, located in the mountains and quite the walk for them, when the typhoon really starts to get insanely bad. The rival had been waiting and ambushes them.

I won't go into all the details but I will say Tsuyoshi's sister...she doesn't make it out of that fight and Tsuyoshi walks out of that fight not only knowing that, despite becoming the official successor during it, he had not only failed to save his best friend but he had taken the life of another friend. He'd failed in all his goals in taking up the sword and defiled its purpose to protect by taking a life.

Though Tsuyoshi still holds the sword in high regard and still knows that Shigure Soen Ryu is invincible, flawless, and perfect, he feels he's too dirty in some ways to hold Shigure Kintoki. It rests in a closet in his house for the longest time as he finds other ways to live his life, to continue on. While he battles his own demons, his girlfriend stays by his side, supports him, and her love really does keep him from going too off the rails. She gives him something to initially live for.

After graduating middle school, he gets a job in a sushi restaurant instead of going into high school where he really finds a new interest and passion for making sushi. He studies under the restaurant's itamae until he reaches that rank too. By that time, his girlfriend has become his bride.

Tsuyoshi opens his own restaurant on the same day he finds out he's going to become a father.

#replies #katekyo hitman reborn #khr #tsuyoshi yamamoto #i loved writing this #so happy #i love this man so much #also yeah #it is impossible for me to write something and not introduce all the angst and tragedy #sorry!

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gwydionmisha · 1 year

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Advice to the Able-Bodied Poet Entering the Disability Poetics Workshop - Liv Mammone

For Jennifer Bartlett and Shira Erlichman

1. Let's just save time—Yes I have seen Rain Man, The Miracle Worker, My Left Foot, or, more recently, The Theory of Everything. I wanna fuck Daniel Day Lewis too but can we not? 2. If all the the Special Needs Kids everybody's mom/cousin/friend/friend's mom/cousin's friend's mom has ever worked with got together, they could overthrow the government and we'd see some real change. Those people aren't reference points for me. There are no reference points for me. 3. This isn't the Whose Life Sucks More game. You have seen moments I can never imagine. 4. When asking about my disability, please remember you have Siri. What you really need to know will come up in the poems. 5. Similarly, if you decide you need to ask my diagnosis, I can guarantee those ugly sounding words are all I have in common with whoever you know. If you don't know anyone, asking me what does that mean isn't ingratiating. I'm not a painting by Warhol. Asterisk: if you're just meeting me and that's your opening? That, or so what happened to you—you're suspect. I have a favorite band, a gaggle of furry children. Let's start there. 6. The words disability, disorder, and disease aren't synonymous. 7. And while we're at it, let's talk about language. You're here for that above all right? Me too. But I get to decide how it's done, not you. If I say cripple, it's because I like how the consonants break like bones. I'm not handing you a membership card. If I say call me "special needs" and I'll roll over your foot, it doesn't mean that softness won't comfort others. Political correctness is kind of like using correct pronouns. So many words have been made up and thrown onto my flesh. None were my name. 8. If you didn't get the above reference to pronouns, I'll write a separate piece for you. 9. Your ear will need to curve around the rhythm of speech. Your pace will hunger to leave me limping. You will want to catch me as I lurch forward; lead me by elbow or hand; not to repeat yourself; to talk as fast as you do out there. Slow down. Slow everything down. 10. The phrase but you don't look sick can go fuck itself with a moving train covered in chainsaws. 11. Don't use the word inspiration unless you're talking about Whitman, Langston Hughes, John Keats or Jesus. 12. Matter of fact, leave Jesus out of it altogether; he's busy enough. 13. It isn't a wheelchair; it's a fully automated battle station. It isn't a cane; it's a dowsing rod. It isn't a limp; it's a swagger. It isn't a stim—it's how my fabulous self is pulling magic out of the air. 14. I'm not your metaphor. Phantom limbs, deafness, or blindness as figurative language in your poems will result in my unhinging my fucking jaw. 15. If you find yourself saying something that begins with no offense, but I want you to stop. Take a breath. And say to yourself these three sentences: Does this need to be said? Does this need to be said right now? Does this need to be said right now by me? If the answer to any of those is no, return to start do not collect $200. 16. Laugh. 17. Be honest. 18. Your head had best be a microscope. Ask yourself why you're here. But question my motives, too. Slam your hand hard on my buttons. 19. Some kind of dragon needed slaying to get to this room, whether it be the nasty bus driver or the thoughts of suicide. So somebody's probably gonna show up in pajamas, crocks, mismatched socks, un showered, hair falling loose from ponytail—whatever. Either they're embarrassed or don't give a fuck. Either way, they don't need you mentioning it. 20. Speak for me, not over me. 21. Yes, I can have sex. I hope everybody in here writes a jam so graphic it makes your goosebumps mambo just so you never ask a disabled person that ever again, unless you're offering. 22. I don't think shy people become poets, but in case you are, you best chill if you fear the body. If I'm gonna write a colostomy bag free verse or a pantoum about how hard it is to negotiate my period on crutches, I wanna do it in peace. 23. You need Advil? Guaranteed, somebody got you. 24. If I have to leave the room while you're reading, sorry in advance. 25. Let me point out, Tiny Tim has been fucking me over since 1843. If I'm happy, it's taken for a miracle; if I'm not, I remind them of all they have and all the work they have to do. I could be a big smile, a raised fist, an eye glittered with tears. 26. This is the place I come to sharpen my teeth; to weep until I am the Danube. I don't care if you're frightened. 27. Trigger warnings. That is all. 28. Halle Berry, Harriet Tubman, Orlando Bloom, Clinton, Christie, Darwin. A lot of your faves are disabled. Just like a lot of your faves are actually bisexual. (More breaking news at 11.) 29. And while we're on that, being disabled doesn't mean you've checked off your minority box on the form. Just saying. 30. I don't want to talk about me; how's my stanza structure? 31. Intersectionality isn't a buzzword. 32. I will ask if I need your help. Repeat this a billion times. 33. Related note: you wouldn't grab someone on the subway. You'd let your face smash into the pole before steadying yourself on the person next to you. So why in the name of God's teeth would you touch me or whatever apparatus I may have without asking?! 34. Remember, you're one slip in the shower, doctor's visit, missed turn away from being me. 35. If I fall, the way you gasp hurts worse than impact. 36. I'm not blaming you. I'm saying pay attention. 37. Inevitably, someone will be forced to stop coming. Email them; that'd be cool. 38. Even if you pity me, don't mess around when it comes to editing. 39. Your body is so damn fucking beautiful. It's like nothing else. 40. Please remember that compliance with any or all of the aforementioned will not result in praise of any kind, cookies, medals, or otherwise. Thank you. 41. People are like poems. They don't get finished, they just stop.

#Advice to the Able-Bodied Poet Entering the Disability Poetics Workshop #Liv Mammone #Poem #Poetry

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loversandantiheroes · 2 years

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Ezra vibes — you’re right and you should say it ❤️

Also — tell me more 👀👀

Uhhhhhh I don't know what happened, but here's 600ish words of some real gen Ezra meta with a side of accidental girldad schmoop and a reader who's worked with Ezra before.

Bish I do not know what this is or if it is good but it is words and I will take it 😅

***

Ezra was not a man you would've ever considered frugal with his words. Point of fact the man carried on so effusively that you had, on more than one occasion, accused him of having lost the key, lock, and latch to his bonebox all together. With time, though, you grew accustomed to the easy chatter, mapping out the cadence and rhythm of his speech, the tone and temperature of his voice, and the meticulous navigation of his vocabulary.

Fringeling dialect was no small part of it - that odd colloquial snarl of Basic, Vayok, and Kevva-only-knew-what that had crossbred and rooted out there at the edge of the Black, a manner of speech that had by design or by chance grown thick and sharp and able to confuse and snare the unwary or dim-witted. But that wasn't the end of it.

Ezra was careful with his words. He rarely lied. Not that he never did, but he seemed to prefer a cautious navigation around the truth rather than an outright lie. On a good day he could talk even the dustiest old floater into pirouettes around a single point of avoidance with a pearl-bright smile and barely a pinprick of sweat on the laddered creases of his brow. On a bad day, well, those were the reasons he preferred such caution. The close scrape of honesty by virtue of a technicality had been his salvation more than once.

All this to say, he was not a man that gave his word lightly. If he gave it at all. Deals, bargains, and arrangements, sure. But oaths; well, those that held an ounce of air were scarce. Promises were a hard thing to keep in the Black, and the folk that drifted out in it long enough to survive it learned to dispense them prudently.

The girl, hard-eyed and unmoving as a gods-damned sand bear, had no mind for such prudence.

You're leaving, she said, arms folded tightly to her narrow chest, fingers digging into the grimy sleeves of her sweatshirt. A statement, not a question, a splinter of fear wedged deep through it.

Hear me out, little bird, Ezra said, his lone hand raised in placation. Two cycles. Three at the most. Long enough to arrive at our destination, make our trade safely, and return. The docking here's paid up for seven, and your room the same. We'll be back long before then, safe and sound and far, far richer than we left.

The girl's eyes landed on you, sharp and cold as stones. If even half of what Ezra said about their time down in the Green was true, you could hardly fault her for her mistrust. Ezra knew you, trusted you. She didn't.

You trust them?

Ezra looked to you, brows hiked high. The shadows under his eyes were lessening finally, but he still looked thinner and more haggard than the sly, round-cheeked man you last saw stepping onto the loading docks at Puggart Bench.

I do, he said, the words plain and unembellished.

The girl scowled, but the set of her shoulders relaxed an inch. You nearly smiled. Brevity was the clearest hallmark of sincerity with Ezra. You knew it; clearly the girl knew it, too.

Two days, Cee, he said again. This is the best price we're like to get on this haul without a corporate contact. Two days, and we come back rich.

Swear. The word left the girl's mouth like a rifle shot. Swear you're coming back.

The lines of Ezra's face slackened, and there was a brief look of understanding in his eyes before an unusual warmth bloomed in its place. And then, slowly, he nodded.

On my life.

#i did a thing????#I wrote a word???#what happened???#who am I????????#wtf do i tag this as I haven't done this in so long 😅#pedro pascal #ezra #prospect

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romancomicsnews · 1 year

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Who should play Lex Luthor in the DCU?

With the DCU casting its red caped hero last month as David Corenswet in Superman Legacy, the Man of Steel's archenemy feels just around the corner.

While nothing is confirmed, names like Nicholas Hoult, Alexander Skarsgard, and Bill Skarsgard have been rumored for the role.

While I have no problem with any of these actors or these Luthors, I feel we can do better.

So before James Gunn throws out a name that will likely break the internet, I thought I'd pitch my three ideas for The DCU's Lex Luthor. Unlike my last fancast (shameless plug for My Flash Fancast Article), I have one actor who I think truly stands beyond the rest.

But first, as always, let's answer a few questions:

What performances are we looking to emulate?

Much like the Man of Steel himself, Luthor has a number of appearances across DC media, including animation, film, and live action television. So unlike my Flash article, I will not be going through all of them, even the main ones.

While I don't think any performance has been perfect, I think there are several we can draw from to create a better Lex.

I'm going to try to remain positive and only look at performances I appreciate, so instead of dunking on Jesse Eisenberg for 45 minutes, I'll just say quickly: He's doing a real good Mad Hatter in Batman vs Superman.

1. Michael Rosenbaum - Smallville

There's a lot to love from this one.

Unlike most iterations of Luthor in media, Rosenbaum begins the series an ally to Clark, even a friend. Luthor is confident, smart, but has a likeability to him I think we have lost in more recent interpretations. All those aspects should be brought over to the DCU.

We need someone who you could believe the city loves almost as much as Superman.

Rosenbaum also had a physical presence and voice to beat. He projected strength, and felt like someone who could throw hands if he needed to.

Finally, his anger and rage were bubbling just beneath all that. He could snap at a moment's notice, and in those moments is where you see the villain. That's what I want from my Lex, someone who mastered masking his demons.

2. Clancy Brown - Superman the Animated Series, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited

If it wasn't for Rosenbaum, this would be my definitive Lex Luthor.

Clancy Brown has never misunderstood the assignment, as he plays a much more aggressive and fiercer Luthor in the DCAU.

What I love about this Luthor is his ability to become a bigger threat from season to season. Making deals with Darkseid, giving speeches to Amazo, and even fusing with Brainiac, this Luthor could hang and outsmart the best of them.

While he was a little quick to anger in my opinion, this Luthor had that same strength and confidence I absolutely love in Rosenbaum.

Something inbetween these two may make the perfect Luthor.

3. Jon Cryer - Arrowverse

While there is a huge gap between two and three, I think there is a lot to love about Cryer.

While he is harder to take seriously than the other two, he does show off one thing the others don't, the fun of being the richest, smartest person in the room.

Cryer always felt like Luthor was having fun toying with heroes. Only when he dealt with the Girl of Steel did he really go off the rails.

Do I want a performance as hammy or out there as Cryer? Not necessarily, but someone who can do a little comedy may be fun here.

What ethnicity is Lex Luthor?

This one doesn't have a definitive answer.

While in most iterations of the character he appears to be white, in Justice League/Justice League Unlimited, some fans speculate he is a person of color, specifically black.

I have mixed feelings on changing a villain into a person of color, as that can have its own implications, especially when their hero wears Red and Blue.

I do think leaving Lex Luthor as an only white character can take away from the depiction. Luthor sometimes is a self made man, and making him a person of color who clawed his way through oppression only to be seconded by another white man could be an interesting take.

Again my feelings are mixed, but for now I'm going to say either way works.

Any other stipulations?

Yes, a few.

For one, I will not bring back an actor who played him before, so I'm sorry Rosenbaum fans, maybe next time.

My Luthor will be either A) a friend to Superman of the same age or B) a mentor like figure, still a friend though, at least for the first movie. So age range is anywhere between 30-50.

Unlike Superman, Luthor's are usually played by actors with a name. Jesse Eisenberg and Gene Hackman both are heavy hitters, so I will be looking for actors of similar caliber.

I also don't want to go with actors who have been or are known for different superhero roles. That doesn't mean they can't have ever been in a superhero movie (hint hint) but we're not getting Downey Jr.

If they are bald that is a plus, but not necessary.

Again I think these picks all can do it, but I really love my number 1 pick.

3. Jason Bateman

This one will probably take the most convincing but think about it.

Known for his wide ranging work such as Ozark, Arrested Development, Game Night & Air, Bateman is a comedic and dramatic force.

At 54, Bateman is my oldest Luthor, but I think he can emulate better than anyone else on this list the fun of Cryer.

I have a few problems with this casting. While he has a great calming voice, I don't know if it's Luthor. It can be sinister, and it can be friendly, but I don't know how confident it can be.

My other main problem is this Luthor doesn't seem like he can fight. I think this Luthor would feel more like someone who needs the mech suit.

Overall I think this is a fun cast and would be a little unexpected, and a challenge for Bateman. But one I think he could nail.

2. John David Washington

If we want a cool, strong, and same age Luthor to befriend Superman, I think John David Washington slides into this very well. At 38, Washington still looks like a passable 30.

Known for his roles in Tenet and Malcolm and Marie, Washington I think is our best bet at emulating Rosenbaum. The swagger, the look, and the dangerous presence bubbling beneath the surface.

My main problem with casting Washington is always the same, does he fit better elsewhere?

Washington is such a versatile actor, he sometimes feels like a blank slate. Would he better suited for Cyclops? Green Lantern? An older Firestorm? Who is to say.

In any case, I'm sure he'll be casted in one of these sooner or later, but Luthor may be an example of right place, right time for Washington.

1. Sterling K. Brown

Several years ago, I saw an episode of Brooklyn 99, which to this day is my favorite episode, where Jake Peralta and Captain Holt try their absolute best to get this killer to admit his crime or slip up.

He is so intelligent, suave, and calm, that they are unable to break him, until they hit the right nerve, and the bubbling anger boils so hot, he admits everything.

That is Lex Luthor.

And that is Sterling K Brown.

Known for hit shows like This is Us, The People vs OJ Simpson, the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel, and movies like Black Panther and Waves, Sterling K Brown may be the most underrated actor working today.

Brown has an intensity about him that screams Luthor. He can play likeable and caring like Rosenbaum, he can reach that rage and intensity that Clancy Brown nailed, and have the fun of Jon Cryer.

Brown also has a kindness that reads extremely genuine. You'd get the sense in another world, this Luthor would be a hero.

At 47, he's old enough to be a mentor to Clark, but still feel formidable, especially with his current physical build.

Brown's Luthor I can see as a staple character for the DCU, appearing as an overarching puppet master, leader of villainous teams, tormentor of many heroes, or even uneasy ally when greater threats emerge.

No matter where they take Luthor as a character, Sterling K. Brown is the right pick to menace the DC Universe for years to come.

Thank you for reading! Let me know who you'd like me to fancast next for Marvel or DC!