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phoenixyfriend · 9 days

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Tony Stark & Natasha Romanova, now in Star Wars

IDK if you folks were ever MEGA into crossovers but did you ever engage with the kind that can more or less be summarized as "isekai but the person 'hit by truck-kun' is a character from a different canon?"

Because that's what this is.

Tony Stark isekai'd into Star Wars (random planet) after dying in Endgame. He knows the movies, but not the supplemental material, as even by the time TPM came out, he was thirty and fucked up and making a name for himself in war. Bad times.

Tony wakes up sixteen and with Nothing to his name but his skills. He does not speak the language. Mostly gets by doing shit like skinning potatoes for a kitchen and pulling weeds and whatnot while he catches up on Basic. (He is apparently fluent, or at least conversational, in French, Spanish, Italian, Latin, and Dari. So Basic would be his Seventh language, and while four of those can be lumped into 'if you learn one, the next will be easier,' Dari is wildly unrelated, so I'd say he could pick up Basic a bit faster than average, especially with 16yo brain elasticity.)

A toddler, two years old with intensely red hair, runs into his shins one day and yells his name very clearly. He looks down, is a little confused, and then a nearby carer from an orphanage jogs up yelling "Nat!" The toddler is Natasha Romanoff. She remembers everything, including dying, but is about twenty-five pounds soaking wet and NOBODY will take her seriously.

It takes some… effort, to explain the situation to the carer. Yes, Tony knows Nat. He worked with uh…. her 'older brother, a man named Clint.' Tony does not currently have the resources for anyone to legally give him custody of a toddler but he's got some motivation to secure housing and a stable income.

He does that. Gets Natasha with him because of course he has to do that. It's the one person he knows. It's Nat.

Turns out she's Force Sensitive, though. A 'natural extension' of her more skillgrinding abilities to read/manipulate people. Tony is not Force Sensitive but he DID recently have a medical episode that took him to a thankfully-government-funded clinic that informed him he has a Bad Heart and will require a pacemaker despite being seventeen.

A Jedi finds Nat while passing through and they Discuss Their Options. This is when Nat is about four. There is a heavy discussion about how her mind is older than her body, so the Jedi would need to be ready for that, but also Tony needs to discuss this with Nat, who was like thirty-nine(?) when she died and thus more than capable of making her own decisions.

Despite fandom generally painting Tony as the most selfish of the Avengers and Natasha as the most coldly practical, they are still heroes who put in some Fucking Effort to become better people, and they come to the conclusion that Natasha would do much more to help this galaxy as a Jedi than as some kid in poverty on a no-name planet. So off she goes!

She's like five years younger than Obi-Wan, the story reveals.

Tony is a bit aimless and the work he's BEEN doing (probably laying down electrical lines or something at this point, IDK, he got into construction or something) gets sideswept by Damage To A Tool. He knows how to fix the tool, but he does not have a forge.

There is a forge in town. He goes to it and says that he can't afford to ask to have it fixed, but he knows how to do it himself, so could he borrow access for a small fee?

This is a Mandalorian armorer. They say no. In fact, they tell him, that would be significantly more expensive than just getting it fixed.

Buuuuuuuuuut for Reasons, the armorer decides that Tony (now 18-19 physically) can do it so long as the Armorer supervises. Tony is competent Enough that the Armorer gives him a datapad and tells him to read it and come back in a week to discuss the topic. Tony warns that Basic is far from his first language and he doesn't have a whole lot of free time, so he probably won't have read it by then. That's fine, they'll just discuss what he has read.

It's about Mando culture, in a mildly propaganda-y way, and Tony comes back to Argue About Religion more than anything. He thinks the Armorer is proselytizing, which they kind of are, but they are also more than happy to discuss the lines between the Mando culture as ethnicity and culture and religion and so on.

This becomes a regular occurence. Tony has made A Friend who has started offering him a side gig doing Basic Village Blacksmith Work that the Armorer deems too menial, like "horse"shoes.

Tony is offered an apprenticeship that he did not expect, on the condition of Becoming Mandalorian.

This is. A heavy decision.

However. Tony is a guy who is at least partly defined by his cool armor. Mandalorians are defined by their cool armor. He has been told, several times, that there are multiple ways to be a Mandalorian. So he accepts, because he decides it's worth for the chance to be somebody who can make a difference in a way he currently can't.

Ten years later, 'Initiate Romanova' goes up to Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon as they prepare to leave, and neatly informs them that she has a feeling they are going to have a Bad Time on their mission in Mandalore, and that if they need emergency shelter from enemies, to go to an Armorer by the name of Tony Stark, because that's her brother so she knows that he's going to be friendly to Jedi. (Tony has sent her a small handful of messages, through channels both official and not, about big life events.)

Of course, shit hits the fan and the two plus Satine end up finding Tony's forge and he hides them in his Underground Bunker, which actually has a tunnel to a cave system that is safer than the bunker itself. Because reasons. (IN A CAVE. WITH A BOX OF SCRAPS.)

He has helper droids! They are named indirectly after friends from the Past Life, things like Spangles.

On their way back after the mission they swing by to say hi and he asks them to bring something to Natasha and it's a matryoshka doll set he made based on the Avengers (it goes based on age so the outermost is Thor, followed by I think Bruce, Rhodey, Tony, Clint, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Wanda, Vision), as well as a plushie he had custom made by somebody in town of a Bird With Archery Gear, even though she's too old for that stuff.

Even among the Jedi, Natasha is WEIRD and SERIOUS and everyone's pretty damn sure she's going to be a Shadow, or at least do a HECK of a lot of undercover work.

IDK how this plays out but Tony is definitely keeping an eye on politics so he can figure out the Palpatine rise to power and remind Natasha in case she's forgotten because when they first split they didn't, either of them, know what to expect in regards to her memory given the whole Baby Brain issue.

"Why is Tony an Armorer"

Okay some more thoughts!

I think Tony's aggressively atheist and consistently watching whoever claims to be Mand'alor with a critical eye in case he has to step in, and does not take any references to ka'ra with any real seriousness. That said. He's an Armorer now. A weird one who refuses like half his clients for Ethics Reasons, but technically a cultural authority figure who's allowed to argue with the Mand’alor.

@penpalpixie:

fsr the initial meeting scenario with the armorer bugs me,like would they really just let him" but tbf Tony knows how to steamroll people and could probably dissect the forge in an instant.

Which, yeah, in my defense, I put this together in about two hours so some of it's a bit wonk? BUT. @threebea had a good suggestion for how/why the Armorer had Tony actually do things in the forge instead of telling him to scram:

Maybe Tony has been doing some 'crafting' on the side maybe droid repairs or modifications which is how the Armorer first sort of hears about him and then one day there's the kid that people have been mentioning the Stars aligned here's a pamphlet. He can't make a living off gizmos in his situation since most of what Star wars has is advanced tech and to do anything impressive he would need more resources and more of an understanding of the mathematics of this universe (Stares at ceiling one night trying to figure out if the law of relativity would be a thing here). That might slow him down just like… his math doesn't actually work here so on top of language he would have to learn things to do complicated stuff that he could already buy for a credit. But with armory it's concepts he knows well and adding weapons to armor especially no lethal ones is something he also knows. Mandalorian armor with UNI BEAM

When it comes to canon, he knows THE big thing (Palpatine is Sidious) and basically nothing else. He thinks he remembers the clones being Mando? but he's honestly not even sure he remembers the original Fett's first name correctly. He knows the guy is a Fett, because Boba was a cultural mainstay for Tony's childhood, so like, it was nice to have some backstory, but he's honestly not sure how likely "that baby Mand'alor that went missing" is to being Boba's plot-relevant dad. Could be an uncle for all he knows, or just a guy with the same last name.

@firebirdeternal:

I feel like to keep things fair Tony should be able to scale up a little harder than the average Mandalorian. Yeah all his tech knowledge is a bit out-dated and he isn't likely to get an arc reactor running in a way that'll be more powerful than anything locally available, but I feel like he'd adapt pretty darn quickly to available tech and start Improving Things Nat's skills all translate extremely well, once she's not got stumpy toddler body she's basically back to her old level PLUS telekinesis and wibbly force nonsense although I understand if that's also not the focus of the fic, being less "And now there's some Avengers Here (Powerset)" and more "And now there's some Avengers Here (Attitudes and Characters)"

Nat is very excited to Break Into Tony's Cave.

NGL this was initially going to be a Tony Raises Nat thing but I couldn't ultimately justify her NOT going the Jedi route after I realized I wanted her to be Sensitive.

There was also a discarded plot idea about her being a little older and having gone undercover in death watch, because Tony got kidnapped to work for them and got through to her, where she gets to use her Bites as a teen but I scrapped it.

I do think she successfully argues to her Master to visit him at 14 to get light armor though.

Nat's the sneakiest little initiate and also. Very, very controlled in the scary way during spars.

Bea:

Natasha as a Jedi is so good. Like, she would probably have a bit of dissonance between Jedi training and the training she received as a child, and it might help her work through some things. Nat: I've known Yoda for three days but if anything happened to him I would kil-- wait uh (pivots) I would be very sad. She would try to sneak up on council members. It is like a kitten stalking a cat on the outside, but also she's a grown woman and wants to be that good. (AU of this If Quinlan ever saw this he'd adopt her: Quinlan: Tholme I found a new padawan sister. Get training Tholme: [literally just finished with Quinlan. Had planned to take a vacation. Meditate. Drink. He loves his kid but needs literally a moment here] Tholme: She's seven. Quinlan: I was four. Tholme: … Quinlan: She has a secret tragic background toooo I know you like that 😄 Tholme: [Sigh] Nat: …wait is he supposed to be Sherlock Holmes. I think he's space Sherlock Holmes. Need to ask Tony if Star Wars had Sherlock Holmes? lol yeah Tholme just feels like he could blend well with an avengers story, and a Black Widow story in particular)

Not joking when I say I considered if I could squeeze Tholme into the timeline.

Tony sends her music files that he thinks sounds Particularly Ballet to her because he remembers how much she liked dancing, as the main or even only positive thing from her Red Room training, and how she once said that if she hadn't become a spy, she thinks she'd have liked to be a ballerina.

The first time they see each other in person in years is her visiting for baby armor at 14 and is hesitant to hug him because like. Yeah he's her "brother" and there were a few years where they were acting as such and he was helping her with Basic Tasks that she doesn't like to think about too much because it's embarrassing, and they cuddled THEN, because she was Physically Baby, but they're just coworkers in reality, right? Should she hug him? If only to sell the bit to her Jedi Master?

Tony is also not the most huggy person and isn't sure if HE should hug Nat because he remembers jokey stabbing threats from when they were Avengers and like. Does she still feel that way, now that she's not a bumbling like tot?

They are both unsure of if hugging is on the table and it's the Jedi Master who says "you know, you're allowed to hug, if you want" under the impression that they aren't sure if the Jedi would allow it. And then the hug is very tight and loving because at least subconsciously they DID both want that.

The Jedi Master takes a pic.

Bea:

Jedi master: (aw) It's one of those "we've been in life or death situations together and also grew up together kinda sorta and also we're trauma bonded," and the first opportunity to solidify Family as their dynamic they both jump in feet first. And both of them were like. Extremely lonely children probably. In different ways but still.

(It's why the Hawkeye plushie didn't make her CRY, per se, but she does start keeping it in her bed even though she's Too Old for these things.)

When it comes to hugging, Nat is understandably concerned about overstepping and like. "Taking" Morgan's place. (I'm going with Tony and Nat being friends (or at least friendly) from A1 to A2, and during the blip she stopped by for dinner once in a while. Nat doing her best to bring Child Appropriate Gifts for Morgan (she misses being Aunt Nat for the Barton kids).) Or as Bea put it: Tony: Are you spying on me or are we doing people things? Nat: Can't it be both?

Anyway, their dynamic is a weird little midpoint once they're in Star Wars but then they get to a point in the armor making where Tony takes a break on a bench and she slips in under his arm to cuddle and it's just Nice (even though he's kinda sweaty and gross from the blacksmithing).

Bea:

Tony: ….. so……. is Yoda… does he look like… is he…. Nat: …???? Tony: You saw the Muppets right? Is he still a Muppet? Nat: [totally has seen the Muppets] what's a Muppet? Tony: You're killing your brother, Nat ;A;

Also the comedy of having MULTIPLE "secret languages" that nobody can translate.

It's handy, too. Between her and Tony, but also lots of languages to give different uses to. Can teach one to a specific faction for communication. OH, the poor Threepio units! She got stuck in a room with one once, and don't get my wrong, they can pick up a language fast, but they need to hear long enough sampling of it. Nat: I'm not teaching you stop asking I do agree too that Tony and Nat no matter their circumstances would be working towards stopping Palpatine. Like is this a real space is this a dream is this another dimension that just happens to be like a movie in ours? Doesn't matter the dictator is going down.

The Jedi Master is somewhat aware of the whole 'used to be an adult, sort of' thing. I don't know that they believe she's linearly matured but probably they think it's something like what I did in Jedi Babies It's definitely more explicit with a mind healer she got assigned soon after arrival.

She didn't decide whether to play it straight and "get help" or just try to game the system until she was actually sitting down. But she'd been having screaming night terrors about things she experienced in her first life, so.

Pixie:

She meets Anakin after TPM (if it's not avoided) when Obi-Wan's trying to settle him in and goes "ah, I know how to handle this kid." At some point Anakin and Tony end up sending each other various schematics.

#star wars #MCU #crossovers #tony stark #natasha romanoff #natasha romanova #phoenix posts #I almost wrote this as an actual one-shot instead of a numbered AU buuuuuuut had to argue with a Jedi-hater instead #avengers #avengers endgame #death mention #qui gon jinn #obi wan kenobi #tholme #quinlan vos #reincarnation #isekai

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palmettoshenanigans · 2 months

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Trust me when I say I am trying SO HARD to not write an AFTG fic; I am BUSY, I am ALREADY writing a mammoth fic for something else, I am trying to not be CONSUMMED, I cannot write an AFTG fic.

And yet I keep having ideas. So, to save myself from the Cursed Brain Worms, I'm giving away this frantically written fic snippet I wrote for someone else to write (and hopefully post so I can read it instead of write it)

Here, someone adopt this orphan, I'm not ready to be a writer parent

The foxes are somewhere for a game and Kevin notices Neil. He panics because he thinks Neil is there for him under the jurisdiction of Riko. Neil was at Edgar Allen for a while but he left when Nathaniel picked him up for reasons Kevin doesn't get to learn. Riko told him Neil was to become the next Butcher and work for him. Kevin believed him.

The foxes are having a face off with Riko and Co, when Neil walks up and tells Riko to be quiet. Riko opens his mouth to retort but when Neil only raises an eyebrow he shuts up.

“In fact, I think you should go home Riko.”

Riko says something but Neil says, “I thought I said be quiet?”

Kevin speaks rapid fire French to Neil, Jean joining in, about how it’ll turn out bad if Neil makes Riko mad by embarrassing him like this. Riko says, “It’s rude to speak a language only you understand.”

Neil looks at him and says, in German, “Then I’ll look directly into your eyes and speak a completely different language, knowing you will never understand what I’m saying. I wonder if I talk for long enough and sound like I’m making a thinly veiled threat if I’ll be able to see your face twitch- ah, yeah. Like that. You’re so easily rankled Riko, it’s pathetic.” Andrew snorts and Neil turns to him with a raised eyebrow, which Andrew meets head on. Andrew then responds in German, “xxx”.

Riko makes a threat and Neil examines him. Neil then says to Andrew (in English), “Andrew Minyard, yes?” Andrew just looks at him. “Is it true you carry knives on you at all times?” Andrew nods. “May I borrow one for just a moment? I promise to bring it back.”

Riko says Kengo would never allow this. Neil pauses. “Call him.”

“What?”

“Call him and ask if he’ll be angry if I cut you.”

Riko pauses.

Neil raises an eyebrow. “No? Fine, I’ll do it then.” and he proceeds to pull out a phone and call Kengo on speaker phone, asking in Japanese, “Would you be angry at me for cutting up the second son?” Kengo gives no shits, and Neils grins at Riko as he says bye and hangs up. In english he says, “Well, you heard him.”

Andrew gives Neil a knife and Neil, tip of the knife tucked under Riko’s chin to guide him like a leash, leads him away, but not before sending a wink Andrews way saying, “Thanks for the loan”. Riko and Jean return, both looking pale, Neil gone with the wind. Jean gives Andrew his knife back, relaying a message from Neil about his "good taste in knives".

Seth dies because Riko asks Kevin where Neil is and the foxes don’t know.

The talk show happens, and Kevin says they’re inviting a former Raven to the foxes, pretending that he’s inviting Neil.

After the show, the foxes wonder how the fuck they’re going to get into contact with Neil, with Jean saying “No one contacts Neil! No one finds Neil! He contacts you! He finds you!” Jean then reveals that Neil only answers to the Main Branch after having killed his own dad.

The foxes are at their home stadium discussing their current conundrum when Neil breaks in asking Kevin what the fuck he thinks he’s doing. Everyone tries to convince him to stay.

“What do you want?” They ask him.

“Nothing.” He says.

Allison brings up Seth.

Neil argues, “I didn’t kill Seth. Riko did that. Trust me. I know when I’ve killed someone.”

“Stay for one year,” Andrew says.

“Why?”

“You owe me.”

“Do I?”

Andrew nods. “You promised to bring me back my knife. You didn’t. Jean did. I’ll forgive you for lying if you stay for a year.”

Neil pauses. Then he laughs hysterically. Then he agrees.

(later on, Neil does a job for Ichiro in return for him getting Andrew off his meds. it's revealed that Neil works for Ichiro specifically, not technically the entire main branch)

#all for the game #andrew minyard #neil josten #kevin day #jean moreau #riko moriyama

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ineffable-suffering · 10 months

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Ceci n'est pas une plume.

(from this doc of all of Neil's answered asks)

The meta goes a little like this: I like nerdy stuff about language (and also Good Omens), so I wanted to elaborate on why Angels and Demons don't actually ever speak any language except their own. They simply have the ability to flick a translation switch and (make anyone) understand what's being said in whatever other language.

Also, I end up making a way deeper point of it and why it's so telling that Aziraphale would learn French (and magic) the hard way, in the end.

Find out with me under the cut!

(Word count: 1820 | Reading time: ~8 minutes )

Aziraphale and Crowley's exchange in front of Marguerite's restaurant started me down this path and I'm pretty sure that this is actually how it works. Because it ties together a few other loose strings that have been floating around in my head about the whole langue deal in Good Omens.

Let's structure this by the questions Neil has already answered about it.

The Lead Balloon

I feel like the "in the beginning"-scene in S2 showed us that Crowley did not actually have much of an idea what exactly the plan for Earth and the humans were (instead, Aziraphale did). He might have found out later still, after asking his questions, but I feel like the second part of that answer is more likely to be true, since they both seem to understand this metaphor. This is further supported by:

Ergo: They're speaking in the language of Angels but we understand it in English (or whatever language we selected on our Amazon Prime). Automatically translated for us because Crowley and Aziraphale wanted us to understand them.

"Ciao. It's Italian. It means Food."

They sort of are, yes. Idiots who either forgot to turn on their own auto-translator, or idiots who aren't aware that they have one for other languages except English, or idiots who were miffed that Crowley actually knew-knew a word in another language and didn't want to admit that they didn't.

Où est la plume de la jardinière de ma tante?

Right, so. The exchange that fuelled this meta. First of all, as a funny side note, the origin of that peculiar sentence:

La plume de ma tante ("my aunt's quill") is a phrase in popular culture, attributed to elementary French language instruction (possibly as early as the 19th century) and used as an example of grammatically correct phrases with limited practical application that are sometimes taught in introductory foreign language texts. As Life magazine said in 1958, "As every student knows, the most idiotically useless phrase in a beginner's French textbook is la plume de ma tante (the quill of my aunt)." The phrase is also used to refer to something deemed completely irrelevant. [link]

So basically, it's historically the most nonsensical and dumb phrase any student of the French language gets taught. And yet Aziraphale has been "wittering on about it for the last 250 years". Even looking smug about it, to this very day. Gave me a good chuckle.

Also:

In the 1973 horror film The Exorcist, Catholic priest Damien Karras interviews [...] a girl believed to suffer from demonic possession. While Karras probes to determine whether the possession is a hoax, the demon Pazuzu—who has possessed the girl—speaks in Latin and French, languages presumably unknown to the girl. When Karras demands "Quod nomen mihi est?/What is my name?" in Latin, the demon exclaims "La plume de ma tante!", using the phrase as a non sequitur to mock and evade Karras' line of questioning. [link]

Using that particular phrase to avoid answering a question you're being asked? Like: "You speak every language in the world perfectly ...

Neil, Neil, Neil, *shakes head fondly*, is there anything that you don't give layered meaning to, ever? No. No, of course you don't. And I adore you for it.

The whereabouts of the aunt's gardener's pen questioned, Aziraphale then says "But you still understood me" when Crowley calls him out for his bad French.

This is curious and affirming of my auro-translator theory for two reasons:

1) Aziraphale wouldn't have said this if he'd uttered this sentence in the language of Angels and simply hit the auto-translate button. Because if he had done it that way, of course Crowley would have understood him. But the reason Crowley understands him is not because Aziraphale used his language auto-translate, but because, again, Aziraphale, for two hundred and fifty years, has been wittering on about the plume of his imaginary tante.

2) Point one is further proven by a tiny French nerdy fact I can provide because I actually did learn and graduate in French back in school, lol. Because Crowley actually makes a mistake while trying to not-automatically translate the sentence. He says:

But "jarndinère" is actually a female gardener (le jardinier = male, la jardinière = female). So, when Crowley says "he doesn't have a pen", he actually gets it wrong, which further proves to me that he (as well as all other angels and demons) doesn't actually understand the phrase like someone does who has learnt the language in a human way.

Crowley doesn't have the automated translation on in this moment, so he doesn't translate it correctly. Because he doesn't actually speak French. At least not in the sense that us humans interpret "speaking a language".

Comment ça?

Basically, what I'm trying to get at is: Would you say that Google Translate speaks every language in the world? That it's native and fluent in every tongue ever spoken? Or is it simply a program that can access all the language knowledge its been fed and as soon as you hit enter, it translates any and every language back to you?

Google Translate never learnt any language, it never sat down and went through the onslaughts of vocabulary and grammar that studying a language comes with. It never got frustrated with seemingly nonsensical sentence structures, subjonctifs (French-learnes, you know what I mean) tenses and conjugations. It never spent ages trying to understand different dialects and accents, never spoke with natives to figure out the hidden slangs and sarcasms that would never be translated on paper. It never went to night classes where the teacher wittered on about pens and gardeners and aunts.

No. Google Translate is being told a sentence and it soullessly, programatically recognizes the language through its binary coded translation filter and mirrors the equivalent in whatever other language you want it to.

It's furthest any-a thing could be from speaking a language.

And exactly like that.

Exactly like that is how angels and demons "speak" every language in the World. Hitting an imaginary auto-translate-and-auto-recognition button.

Aziraphale and French (and magic)

Just like with Aziraphale being giddy about the idea of human magic, of learning card tricks and pulling coins out from behind ears, Aziraphale chose to never hit his translate button when it came to French.

Why does Aziraphale learn magic the human way? Because he knows how to do it the ethereal way but that's "no fun."

And why does Aziraphale learn French the human way? Because he knows how to do it the ethereal way, but that's "no fun".

Let me recap real quick: Two of the very base principles of any angel's job and/or purpose (on Earth) is to 1) do miracles for humankind to ensure their souls will at some point be added to Heaven's tab and 2) be a being of Love and love all of Her creations.

Or, the condensed version: Magic and Love.

And what are the two things Aziraphale finds no fun (= boring and unsatisfying) to do the way it was intended for all angels?

Magic and (the language of) Love.

Aziraphale chose to try and learn magic as well as the language of love organically, without the God-given ability and the binary coded translation system Heaven provided his corporation with.

He wanted to learn it the human way. The hard way. The fun way.

Neil: "It's like magic tricks, which he is terrible at but loves to do, and miracles, which are no fun, but which he does very well."

Because that's the point, isn't it? Most of us think: "Wow, wouldn't it be great to be able to do actual magic? Simply snap your fingers and have any-a wish come true? Speak every and any language in the universe and never have to pick up a dictionary ever again?"

Sure, for the first few exciting moments, miracles and conversations maybe. But sooner or later, it renders everything meaningless. Soulless. Flavourless. And who loves flavour more than Aziraphale?

It's somewhat similar to why typing a sentence into Google Translate is never going to be as exciting as being able to finally translate it yourself after years of practising. Or why telling an AI to conjure up a picture of a beautiful landscape will never, ever be the same as working years on your own painting skills to one day finally be able to paint it yourself.

Heaven (and ultimately Hell) don't care about the process. The hardship. The pain and passion of putting work and effort into the journey. They only care about the end result. The means to an end.

Crowley: "They don‘t care how it gets done, they just want to know they can cross it off their list."

Want to speak any language in the world? There you go, automatic translator. Want to ensure humans will be added to the Heavenly/Hellish soul tab? Boom, you can do real magic. Get to work, then!

So, for Aziraphale to choose to learn the two things he was provided with to do his Heavenly work in the most efficient, soulless and flavourless way possible the human way instead, really says it all, doesn't it?

But he learnt the most important one the hard way, without his auto-translator.

The one language all angels are supposed to know fluently and wordlessly anyway.

The one language that makes an angel.

The language of Love.

Except that when it's programmed into you with the intent to only ever work as a means to and end instead of the beautiful journey it is, it will never be the real, organic, passionate, hard and wonderful thing it was meant to be.

And Aziraphale knows this.

Which is exactly why he learnt magic and French the real, human way.

***

Small addendum that I couldn't really fit into any paragraph up there: I think it's also really telling that Aziraphale only properly committed to learning French the right way by going to Monsieur Rossignol's (for those who haven’t seen it yet: rossignol means nightingale in French) night classes in 1760 after the first time we see Crowley rescue him (Bastille, 1739). There might have been a time before that where Crowley got him out of a precarious situation, but for all we know, it was the first one where Crowley really showed up for an angel in need who was absolutely swooning over it. Time to let the nightingale to teach you how to become fluent in Love!

#good omens #good omens meta #my own meta #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #gos2 #go2 #good omens s2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #language #good omens language #why?#love #aziraphale is a romantic #and also the only good angel out there #and all of it because of a god damn pen

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mychoombatheroomba · 3 months

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Lessons Final and Familiar

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 46

You and Leon tell your squad mates the truth of Raccoon City, and you are cleared to train fully again. Out of practice and in your own head, you seek help just as Leon once did.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

They read the reports in silence, their own letters at their sides - easy cover, should someone step into your little room in the infirmary. You acted as something of a lookout, your fingers twisting pins into lock after lock, all while you kept an eye out for them. That was your ritual over the next few days, whenever your little group met to study. It had taken weeks for you to get through all of the reports Krauser had given you, all of the secrets, but you would give your squad mates what you could. More importantly, you would give Leon what you could.

You would look over at him and the others, seeing horror or confusion or rage crossing their faces with each line they read, every word they processed. You watched them doing what you’d done; putting together the picture of all that had transpired. Even if you didn’t give them the report of what happened to you, or what happened to Leon, you knew that the timeline was becoming clearer to them all the same.

“So, let me get this straight,” Alenko’s French was almost flawless - a skill he’d learned far before STRATCOM. It made him difficult to understand when he spoke with fluent speed, but that was the whole point, wasn’t it? To be able to understand? Besides, even if some of his words were lost in his quick speech, his disbelief was easy to understand. Besides, speaking in a mix of different languages they were teaching meant a slightly lower chance of someone walking by and learning what you were all talking about. Training through treason. If they wanted you to trade in secrets, then you would. “They knew about all of this for months? We lost a base, and they still wanted these weapons?”

You gave him a simple answer in Mandarin. “Yes.”

Leon carried on the sentence, albeit in a flawed Russian. “And Umbrella learned about it. They killed Birkin after.”

Valeria piped in, shaking her head and answering in perfect Spanish. “Why doesn’t that surprise me?”

Williams cut her off, giving her a look that was a little too familiar. “Hey, it’s not practice if you’re fully fluent in it.”

A pointed look heralded a sharp response - though even you could see the affection in Valeria’s expression. “If Alenko gets to do French, I get to do Spanish. Besides, it’s practice for you. Lord knows you and the pretty boy can use all the help you can get.”

“I’m not that bad,” Leon defended, and even you frowned a little at his pronunciation, even if the words were right.

Valeria beat you to voicing the brutal truth of it. “Your accent is shit. But good try, blanquito. You’re getting there.”

Leon pursed his lips but took the criticism just as Alenko spoke again. “Are we going to brush over the fact that our government was willing to make a deal with a man who killed thousands? Even if indirectly? That we could have a cure if they’d just waited a little bit longer?”

“We’re not ignoring it,” Williams answered in Spanish, her accent a little better than Leon’s though she took longer to think of the words. “But we can’t do anything about it. Unless those papers gave a name . . .” she switched back to English after a moment, not sure how to say what she wanted to say otherwise, “then we can go fuck someone up.”

“But speaking of names,” Alenko shook his head. “This scientist - Birkin - he knew a lot about US internal affairs.”

“Umbrella soldiers were at Dorne Base,” you reminded him. “They told their . . .” you struggled to think of the right word in Mandarin - something you were thankful for, giving you something to think about other than the soldiers in question. In the end, you couldn’t think of the word you needed and resorted to English. “Higher-ups.”

“Sure,” Alenko nodded, “but then . . . how did Umbrella find out? Who ratted him out about the deal with the CIA?”

You frowned, because you’d thought of the same thing on many nights as you poured over the reports Krauser had given you.

Leon weighed in again, his brow furrowed. “I don’t know.” He’d been the one to see the emails damning Birkin - but he’d told you they were from someone else in Umbrella sending his own correspondence back to him. No hint as to who it was that he was talking to, or if the tip had come from within Umbrella.

You hoped it had, because the alternative . . .

“And nowhere in these reports does it say who he was in contact with in the US government?” Alenko asked again, holding up one of the papers you’d given him.

Your frown only deepened, then, and you shook your head. “No name.” Or, at least, not one that you could read beneath the black ink. No name for you to hate for making a deal with the devil, no name to loathe for dragging Leon by the throat into something he should have been kept safe from, or destroying Raccoon City and the cure it housed.

And that presented a problem, because the only thing left to hate was the government behind it all. The one you’d sworn your life to. The one that had been your life and livelihood for years. The one that had offered you the chance to avenge those you loved.

That was why you sat here, spreading the truth of their actions to those who deserved to know. You’d told Leon that you’d been a bit of a handful, once. That you had a disregard for authority or rules. Stealing the radio from Commander Cortez had proved that part of you to still be alive, but this? This was something else. A side of you that you weren’t used to . . .

Well, you couldn’t exactly say that either, could you? Not when you’d been breaking regulations for months just to steal a few moments of peace with the man at your side.

A man you wanted to give every advantage, even if it meant reinforcing what he already knew of the people pulling his strings.

A man who, like you, was full of righteous anger at the people in power - for all that had happened because of them. “It’s not right, what they did,” he said, his gaze downcast but steady. Resolute. “But we can stop Umbrella.” He spoke the rest in English, his voice so steady and sure you could hardly believe it was the same boyish recruit you’d knocked to the dirt all those months ago. “That’s what matters.”

Williams, Alenko, hell even Valeria all nodded. All set on a warpath you were barred from . . . but one you would be allowed to claw your way back to, in just a few days. Your ribs healed for a second time, your muscles aching to get back in the fight . . .

And Williams spoke your next thought aloud. “Just have to make it through this place, first.”

And you . . . you had farther to go than most, now. As the lock in your hands clicked open, regardless of what questions Alenko had posed, your thoughts were on that training and that training only.

⧫⧫⧫

The mid-June sun was unrelenting, and so were you.

The minute Doc had cleared you for full training again, you’d thrown yourself back in, full force. An attack dog given the signal, you sank your teeth into the training you’d been barred from for so long. And you did so viciously.

You were sloppy. That was what you noticed in yourself, what you lingered on as you sparred with the lower-level recruits. Every error, every misstep, every mistake that could mean death in the field - you cataloged all of it. Filed it away, demanding that you do better. You were a harsh teacher and always had been, but you were harshest on yourself. Had to be.

The recruits you were helping to instruct ended up getting harsher instruction as a result, and you regretted that in part. You knew that your frustrations with yourself were coming out and biting into them instead, but you couldn’t help it. Not when you demanded nothing less than perfection in yourself, and when the man who was actually supposed to be teaching these men and women didn’t seem to be bothered.

Reed would give notes, sure, but for the most part he just let the recruits fight, his focus on them but his thoughts unspoken and unknown. You’d watched him for two weeks now, not giving notes when he should. Keeping silent while you handled the squad.

Before now, it would have been alright. You’d had the ability to watch everyone, but now you needed to focus on yourself. So, three days into your return to training, you finally had enough.

“You’re an instructor while you’re here, aren’t you?” You said, your temper getting the better of you as you looked over at an impassive Reed. “Some instruction for them would be good.”

The agent’s head turned towards you, all too slow, his face just as impassive as ever but for a flicker of annoyance.

“You want instruction?” He raised a brow and stepped forward, holding his left hand out towards another recruit. The young soldier looked between the hand and him before hesitantly placing the knife on Reed’s outstretched palm. “Let’s give them a demonstration.”

With that, Reed took up a position against you, and your brow furrowed.

You hadn’t seen him fight yet. It occurred to you then - he’d demonstrated moves on occasion, but you’d never actually seen him cross blades with someone.

Size him up. What are his strengths?

Tall, lean, precise with his movements out of combat . . . and strong. Strong enough to break your bones. To knock you out of training for six weeks-

Stop it.

You forced yourself to focus again, lifting your own practice knife and-

He gave you no more time to prepare.

Reed advanced, his knife reaching for your right side and, with a sharp exhale and a stab of instinct, you blocked. Your body jolted with the action, combat an old friend that you weren’t sure how to greet any more. Your eyes widened as the agent moved, not letting you hold the defense for more than half a second before he was moving again, lighting fast. Low leg, right side. You blocked again, nearly too late, feeling the knife brush the fabric of your fatigues.

Then, as he moved, you realized how Leon must have felt that first day against you, as your brain and body went into overdrive. You blocked another strike almost too slow, this one a stab as he switched his knife to his right hand, thrusting it at your chest.

How was he so fast?

Or were you just slow?

Had those six weeks really weakened you that much?

Control the blade-

Smaller arm movements-

Use more than your knife-

You reached across your body to block, so that hopefully you could free your right hand to strike at him. In doing so, you realized your mistake too late.

His knee moved up, his body close to yours, and you only just moved in time to avoid the worst of it. Still, his knee connected with your left side. With your newly healed bones. You suppressed the yelp in your throat, eyes bulging in fear as you felt the pain and alarms rang out in your mind because no, God, no, please don’t be-

Your retaliation was instinct more than anything else. A thrust forward with your knife as you sucked in a breath, anger and terror making you lash out clumsily. Reed moved - still so fast - and blocked with his free left hand.

His knife hooked at the back of your neck, and with his leg braced in front of one of yours, he leveraged you forward. You grasped at him, nearly taking him down with you, but it wouldn’t matter in a fight. Your spine would have been severed, or at the very least you would have been thrown onto your stomach as you were now, dry dust kicking up around you as you landed.

And there, on the ground, you felt nothing but rage.

You reached for your ribs, gingerly checking for any lingering pain, huffing furious breaths. Not broken. You could tell that, at least. Though not for lack of trying. You wanted to scream and curse as you pushed yourself part way up. Part way, before Reed’s words made you look over your shoulder at him.

“A demonstration for you all,” the CIA agent said, his words callous as ever. “Exploit an opponent’s injury, if they have one.” He spared you a glance, but no offer of help up before he stepped away, tossing his knife back to the recruit he’d taken it from. “Back to it.”

You seethed there on the ground, your grip tightening on your knife.

Stupid. Useless. Fucking pathetic-

“Here, Sarge,” a hand came into view, and you looked up, seeing one of the recruits you’d been working with offering it to you. Offering you a hand you felt you didn’t deserve. He was your age. Not bright-eyed as Leon had been, but with a smile of someone who knew the struggle. Someone who’d been through boot camp and gotten their ass kicked, same as you.

It wasn’t comforting to you, though, because he didn’t know yet what awaited him. You did. And, even as you took the hand up, you knew that you were far from ready.

That needed to change.

⧫⧫⧫

Leon had been hesitant when you first brought up the idea - not because he didn’t want to spend time with you, but because of the other company the two of you would be keeping.

But then, if Leon was hesitant, Krauser was even more so.

Leon supposed he couldn’t blame the Major, entirely. It was, well, damned awkward as the three of you met in the training yard one evening - the night when Leon would have sparred with just Krauser alone. Even if Krauser had given Leon a rest with the insults about you, seeing the stone-faced man there that night made Leon on edge, at first. It was a smart move, having someone else there, both to keep suspicions off of you and to have a more experienced pair of eyes observing, but that didn’t make Leon any more thrilled with the idea. He could see the harsh line of the Major’s brow, the way he looked between the two of you with something like disdain . . .

But in the end, he, you and Leon all found focus elsewhere.

Namely, in the way you were moving.

Leon had been able to win against you often enough before Fort Benning. He was still nowhere near as quick as you’d been, but his skill had been improving with each fight. He was almost a match for you, then. Now . . . Leon found no sense of victory each time he slipped his knife past your guard, or when he managed to twist your wrist and disarm you with a move that you’d so often used on him. With each loss, he could see despair growing in your eyes and it led him to moving a little slower. Leaving openings for you to attack, blocking just a second too slow . . .

It made him smile when you took advantage of the little accommodations, even if each of them made your brows pinch closer together.

“Stop holding back,” you hissed a plea after you stabbed at his side and landed - a move he, admittedly, could have blocked. You retreated from him, taking steadying breaths to calm your frustrations.

“You heard the Sergeant,” Krauser nodded off to the side, thick arms crossed over his chest and his expression dour. Normally, there would have been an insult to follow up the order, but this time, Krauser just turned to you, his voice detached. “And you - what am I going to say?”

He didn’t have to wait long before you gave him the answer he sought, offered with a tight jaw. “Go with your gut, don’t think.” The words Leon had heard on his first day, all those months ago.

Words that you yourself had spoken to him in some way or another to Leon on so many occasions.

Words that you struggled to recall, it seemed, as you attacked first this time. You were still strong, fast and skilled, but those six weeks spent doing so little . . . they had dulled you. Leon could see it as he batted your attack away. Even as you let his deflection shift you into switching hands, the knife coming up towards his right shoulder, then down when he parried. You almost caught him with that, but his own retaliation came in the form of a blade to your neck.

Leon saw your eyes flash, and heard you exhale as you both lowered your blades.

“You left yourself open,” Krauser pointed out, giving voice to what you already knew.

Just as he voiced the next mistake you made. “Close distance.”

“Watch your footwork.”

“Don’t over-commit.”

Mistake after mistake until, at last, Leon saw your frustrations boiling over. You got hit with a slash to the stomach and immediately you stepped back, turning your back to both of the men in the training yard with you, shoulders rising and falling. Leon thought he heard you swear beneath your breath, and then, concern for you overcame any hesitancy or lingering animosity he had for the Major. He looked Krauser’s way now that your back was turned, letting that worry be known.

Leon wasn’t surprised when he saw a glint of that worry reflected back at him, then. Valeria hadn’t been far off, last week, after all. Favorite or not, Krauser had pulled you from the snow in Finland. He’d saved your life and given you the tools you needed to safeguard it in the future. He’d given you no mercy, but he had given you care, Leon could see it in his expression now.

And for all their disagreements, Leon found himself smiling a little when the Major took a breath and spoke. “Kennedy, remind me what happened that first day I had you two fight.” The order was spoken with a now-familiar brashness, and it made you turn back to face Leon and Krauser both.

Leon glanced your way, before looking back at Krauser as he gave his answer. “Got my ass knocked into the dirt, sir,” he said. He’d never thought to be sentimental over such a thing, but . . . well, these were strange times.

He’d never thought to be trying to cheer you up with Jack Krauser of all people, either.

The Major nodded once, very nearly smiling at the memory - smug bastard that he was. “You did. Several times. But you also landed a hit on one of my best men. You know why that is?” He turned towards you, this time, making it clear he expected an answer from you instead.

Your answer was weighed down by self-loathing. “Because I was too slow.”

You were right - those had been the words Krauser had spoken to you, Leon remembered. Even so, the Major shook his head. “Because shit happens,” he corrected, and Leon felt a strange mix of emotions in his chest as Krauser took a step forward. “You made a mistake. Happens to the best. Your problem is that you get in your own head about it.” He looked back at Leon gesturing to the younger man’s eye - the one that you’d lined with purple and blue in that first fight so long ago. The strike you’d delivered out of anger and shock, that you’d apologized for the next day. “Made you bruise up that pretty face back then, and it’s making you sloppy now.”

Leon did his best not to react to that comment, even if the Major’s word choice made him blink. Instead, he focused on your expression, still a storm of self-pity and guilt. “I know,” you murmured, not meeting Krauser or Leon’s eyes as you did.

Krauser tilted his head to the side, but his words didn’t hold their usual edge. Just tough love - something that Leon was becoming more and more familiar with from the Major. “If you know, then breathe and get your shit together.” Instead of making you angrier, you nodded and tried to smile. Didn’t quite get there, but you tried. The next comment, though, was the winning blow in that battle. “Now go on. Think Kennedy’s itching for you to knock him down again, isn’t that right?” The taller man gave a wolf’s grin as he looked Leon’s way - a silent challenge.

Well, if that’s how it was gonna be . . .

Krauser stepped back and out of the way as your expression shifted from disbelief to a grin. You rolled your shoulders back and stepped up to face Leon once more, but before either of you moved, Leon gave you his own devilish smirk. What he did next might have surprised him, not so long ago. You and Krauser had always had a rapport, but now, whether it was spurred by that twinge of something prickly in his chest or even the rapport that Leon himself had been building with the Major, Leon wasn’t sure. He didn’t know if it was because, as all that happened in Raccoon City and beyond came to light, he realized that the list of people in power that Leon could trust was well and truly bare, save for the man who had taken so many opportunities and risks to do his best by his men. He didn’t know if maybe, just maybe, he’d come to like Krauser just a little bit over the course of the last few months, and that was part of why his mind set him on this path. What he did know was that he wanted you to smile more, and he had one hell of an idea on how to do it. “You feeling up to a real challenge?” he asked, raising a brow, the one visible under his now-grown-out hair.

Your expression sharpened as you tilted your head to the side. “Not sure I’d put up a good showing unarmed today,” you said, but Leon just shook his head.

“Not what I meant.”

Your own brow rose, then. “Oh?”

Leon just gave you a smile and a wink, and then he whirled around, knife raised high.

Krauser almost didn’t block in time.

When he did, when he raised his hand and his arm felt the force of Leon’s blow, the once-rookie cop couldn’t help but smile wider. He never thought he’d have the pleasure of seeing Krauser so surprised, but those wide blue eyes spoke for themselves.

“What the fuck do you-”

Leon hadn’t been sure that you’d join in. Not until he saw the flash of your knife at Krauser’s other side, forcing him to lean back into a retreat. He looked between you and Leon, his arms coming up on instinct as he processed what was happening in the blink of an eye, and then . . .

Well, Leon knew you were both fucked because Krauser smiled.

Hours spent in training scenarios just like this - and the too-brutal memories of the fight at Fort Benning - gave you and Leon the right instinct to press your attacks. The trouble was that the Major had taught you both how to do that. He’d instructed you on how to move, how to seek out weak spots, and even if you weren’t a little slower than usual in that moment, Krauser was still faster and stronger than you both.

With the two of you, though . . . it was almost a fair fight.

You and Leon had time enough to find your rhythm, and there were a few times when your knife or Leon’s nearly had Krauser. So many times where a blade would come so close to achieving that victory, only for the Major to bat it away.

And as soon as he did, the attacker either had to get clear or be faced with a punch or a kick as punishment.

“Pretty sad showing. I expected more!” he called out, and Leon could swear that the man was actually having fun.

He directed the flow of combat as the three of you moved, turning just in time to catch Leon’s thrust as the two of you tried to flank him, using the momentum to toss Leon into the wall of the officer’s barracks. Vaulting far too acrobatically over the table where the rest of the training knives were to arm himself, all while hurling the spare, dull blades at you as you tried to rush after him.

“Use your surroundings!” the Major reminded the two of you, and as Leon rushed to rejoin you, he heard you grunt in frustration.

A knife came spinning Leon’s way, then, and instinct made him raise his own blade - only to be met with a shing as metal met metal. Knife meeting knife. The blade Krauser had thrown landed in the dirt at Leon’s feet, and the younger man’s eyes widened in shock and excitement at what he’d just done.

Even Krauser looked a little impressed - right before you rushed forward and raised your leg to kick forward. The table between you and Krauser shot forward then, hitting the Major hard in the thighs, making the man double over a bit, his hand bracing on the table’s surface.

Leon took the moment of distraction you’d bought him, boots hitting the dirt hard as he dashed into the fray. He went for the Major’s unarmed left side, not surprised when his strike was blocked a little clumsily, the dulled blade scraping Krauser’s forearm. That was fine, if not the intended result. He quickly went for another, one that was similarly deflected. Just as well. All Leon needed to do was make you an opening. If he couldn’t land a hit, then maybe you could.

Or you could have, if it wasn’t Krauser that the two of you were facing off against. As soon as you got close enough, Krauser looked over his shoulder and kicked his leg back, catching you in the stomach - and very clearly low, avoiding the ribs that had just healed - before you were in range of striking with your knife. With you stumbling away, Krauser was free to answer Leon’s next attack, balancing focus between the two opponents effortlessly.

Until, at last, it seemed like he’d had enough.

When you came back in with an attack not too long after, Krauser blocked high in an arcing motion, spinning just as Leon stabbed out towards the Major’s neck. Or, at least, where it had been. Leon didn’t have enough time or space to move as Krauser ducked low, his leg outstretching with a viper’s speed.

The leg that was forward in Leon’s stance was kicked out from under him and, with most of his weight having been on it, the younger man felt himself falling. Not for long, though, before he hit the ground hard.

He didn’t see what happened next fully. All he knew was that his attempt at hooking Krauser’s legs to knock him down too missed, leaving him to raise his knife and try to roll to the side and away . . . only to see a shape moving his way.

No, not moving. Falling.

The weight of another person crashed into him, and both you and Leon had the wind knocked out of you as Krauser threw you down, right on top of Leon. Your chest against Leon’s back, your arms bracing awkwardly against the ground. Leon’s newfound strength was enough to keep him from being flattened into the earth, luckily, but fuck did you landing on him like that hurt. You were both shaken from the crash, and even if you landing on top of Leon didn’t press him down, Krauser’s weight added to that sure as hell did. Leon grunted as the Major forced him down once more, kicking one of Leon’s arms out from under him and delivering two stabs once his opponents were subdued. One to you, and the second to Leon.

The three of you breathed in the dust that had risen around you, and Krauser . . . well, Krauser just chuckled. “Even if you have the numbers in a fight,” he said, still holding the two of you down, “those numbers can be used against you.”

Leon huffed - or tried as best he could with your weight on him, but he nodded all the same. “Thanks for that, sir,” he groaned, and his heart soared when he heard you laugh the tiniest bit from above him. “You gonna let us up?”

“You gonna learn?”

“Eventually.” The answer came from you, snarkier than Leon would have expected for when you were talking to Krauser of all people.

Still, the Major hummed in mock-disappointment. “If you two fought half as smart as you talked, you’d be the best fighters I have.” His weight came off of the two of you, and Leon saw him extend a hand towards you. A moment later, you were hoisted to your feet, and Leon began to push himself up . . . only to have a callused hand offered to him as well. Leon looked up at Krauser as he reached for that hand, and he felt strange seeing the older man offering help even while wearing a smile. A grin that, once, had meant only harm was coming Leon’s way.

“And who are your best?” You asked, and Leon could have sworn you chased the dark away even with the smallest smiles. Enough to make him and Krauser both smile a little wider.

“After assessments, I’ll tell you,” Krauser shot back, matching your wit a little too well. Leon saw it in the way the corners of your mouth fell, ever so slightly. Because you wouldn’t be taking part in those assessments. Not any time soon. Leon didn’t need to read your thoughts to know that was what sobered you. Krauser must have seen it too, because his own good humor faltered like guilt had kicked the back of its knee. “Go on,” he said, his voice softer, “get some rest. Both of you. I’ll finish up here.”

With you back in training proper, at least Leon was able to walk with you back to the barracks . . . but it was a walk that went by in almost complete silence.

“You’ll catch back up, you know,” Leon finally said, not far from the barracks. He could see you grimace as he looked over at you, but he went on because he needed you to hear it. “You were already doing well tonight.”

“I was shit tonight.” Your response was a brutal and self-inflicted wound.

“Give yourself a break,” Leon insisted. “You’ve got time, you can work with Krauser-”

“I don’t want time.” You stopped walking, your lips pressed tight together, your fists clenched tight. “I should be going with you.”

“Hey-” Leon shook his head, turning to face you. “I’ll be okay,” he promised once more. “You’ll be out there soon enough.”

You just frowned, not saying anything, but clearly not convinced.

Still hurt, even if your bones had healed.

He’d been seeing you like this too often as of late, so he stepped forward, his mind set only on one thing - the need to reassure you. His arms closed around you and you froze, even as he all but crushed you into his body. You were silent, even if he could practically hear your worries fighting to break free . . . but before long, Leon felt his heart stir as you returned the embrace. You held him tight for a few precious moments, ones that Leon knew he needed to savor.

After all, there might not be too many of those moments left.

⧫⧫⧫

“Do you think he’s ready?” The question forced itself from your lips before you could stop it, breaking the near silence of the woods around the base. Krauser looked over at you, lit only by his flashlight. Even so, you could see his expression curve into a frown. “Leon-”

“I know who you’re talking about,” Krauser grumbled. “You’re still in your own head.”

“And you didn’t answer my question.”

“No one’s ever ready.” He never held back with you in training, you knew he wouldn’t hold back with the truth of this, either. You could see that much in his eyes as he rose from where he’d been kneeling, turning to face you fully. “You know better than anyone that you can’t ever prepare for everything out there. Especially not now.”

“But do you think that he’s-” it was you that cut yourself off this time, because you knew the Major was right. Still, you needed to know. “Do you think he has a chance? That any of them do?” How could they, when their own government might hang them out to dry? When they were going to be sent against monsters and horrors beyond reckoning?

Krauser studied you, his jaw moving a bit as he thought of what to say. When he did speak at last, his words were quiet but honest. “He had no right to make it this far, but he did. He’s got a chance.”

That, more than anything else, soothed your worries. It didn’t erase them, but hearing Krauser affirm that . . .

“But take it from someone who knows,” the Major went on, his voice more grave, his words broken up by a heavy breath. Like he was gathering strength, almost. Saying something he didn’t want to say. “Don’t waste a moment if you can help it.”

You felt your lips part as your jaw dropped a little, surprise on your features as you looked at the man in front of you. Not so long ago, you’d heard him give you ice cold advice, telling you to forget the pipe dream of what you and Leon shared. “What happened to ‘not being stupid because it feels good’?” you asked, cautious and incredulous because this was in no way the advice that Krauser should be giving you as a superior officer.

And yet . . .

“If you’re going to be stupid, better to be stupid here than out in the field.” It sounded like a half-logical and half-hearted reason, throwing you all the more for a loop. “You’ll have enough regrets as is. Don’t leave here with more.”

You stared at him in the dark for a moment longer, trying to understand. Trying to make sense of the conflicting warmth and emptiness in your gut. In the end, though, all you could do was ask one thing. “Why? Why give a shit at all?”

Another beat of silence met you before Krauser answered, deflection clear in his tone. “It’s all you ever talk about,” he accused with an attempt at humor. “Maybe this’ll finally get you to shut up about it.”

You scoffed at that but smiled a little anyway. “Bullshit. We haven't been talking about anything for weeks.”

Krauser just raised a brow. “You want something to talk about? Fine.” You were sure he was going to chew you out. To give you a lecture about how you’d been moping again, or how you needed to ‘get your shit together’. Something of substance, of weight and importance. Instead . . . “You really like that Spice Girls shit?” he asked, and you balked at the words.

You, once again, spoke faster than you could really process your own words. “Rich, coming from the man who played bluegrass for weeks on end.” Krauser snorted at that, and you found yourself enjoying the sound. “But yes, I do like them.”

The Major just rolled his eyes and set back to work - though this time, there was a steady conversation between the two of you as you finished up. One you were grateful for, but one that gave way to a single thought, when you returned to the barracks for First Call.

A thought that pressed against you as the day carried on - one of the last days you were guaranteed to share with the man you loved.

Krauser was right. You had enough regrets. Enough what-ifs.

You hadn’t gotten to say a proper goodbye to so many people you loved.

You would be damn sure Leon would get one.

Before he was thrown into the fire, you decided that morning that he would have as much of you as you could give.

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A/N: Idk gang, I was feeling extra gay this time around.

That said, the next chapter will be NSFW, because goddamn it, these two deserve it after all the shit they've been through.🫡

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #jack krauser #resident evil x reader #resident evil 2 #resident evil 4 #resident evil #between the bones #gender neutral reader #leon kennedy x you #no y/n

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onecantsimply · 1 year

Note

If you’re still doing yandere Jack the Ripper requests, can I requests one where he has a very sweet S/O who speaks another language? (I.e. Spanish, French, etc…) get creative as you want with this one!!

I love your content btw💕🙌🏻!!

Thank you- I’m glad you enjoy reading it-

• God, Jack just melts whenever you speak to him in a different language. Especially French- That man could literally have heart eyes the moment he hears your words.

• He wants to hear it more, and he’ll even learn the language just to hear you speak even more.

• But he wants to learn it from you specifically. To have you by his side and personally teaching… it makes him feel so warm inside.

• If he does find out that you’re having to do something, and it interrupts with his time with you, he’ll get rid of that problem immediately. He wants all of your attention on him, and he won’t tolerate anything pulling you away.

• Love has always been a fickle thing to Jack. He knew he couldn’t have a normal type of it when he saw and heard you. Any words you speak with some of your language included into it made him melt instantly, feeling the butterflies in his stomach simply flying around.

• The fact that you’d bother to use your own language with him… He feels nothing short of infatuated.

• Every day after his own lessons, he tries to remember everything you’ve taught. Jack may as well forget some English because of how hard he’s been trying to learn.

• So the fact that you might have something disturbing your time with him sets off alarms that he immediately needs to get going to get rid of it.

• But if he can’t, he’s following you and making sure you’re safe. Even if it’s a forgotten errand, who knows? You could get mugged. Injured. Kidnapped. K i l l e d ? He wouldn’t allow that, even if it’s just overthinking.

• Jack watches everything over, making sure nothing goes wrong while you finish what you need to do.

• Alright, if it’s family that’s bothering you, Jack doesn’t mind getting rid of them. Not at all. If it’s to a very bad extent, he will get rid of them. He doesn’t need them to drain you of your lovely energy now, does he? Even if you mourn, you’ll always get over it in time when he’ll be the one comforting you, eyeing your figure in the slightest of victory while you’re hugged close to him.

• You have a crush? No you don’t.

• You have a husband or wife? Not anymore HH-

• Jack will take pretty much everything away just to stay near you and learn as much about your language as it takes. To him, it’s perfectly valid, even if he knows that what he’s doing is completely wrong.

• He doesn’t need anyone taking your time away from him. The constant need for attention and the knowledge of your languages have him in such a chokehold that it’s insane. You’re even catching onto it.

• Of course, Jack loves you aside from those languages. He may as well be obsessed with everything else you have.

• Your voice was the one thing that allured him in the first place. Something that made him look towards you as he saw the joyful colors within your body.

• Your looks was something he felt himself curious of. Even if it may be the same as everyone else’s, there’s something about you that caught his attention.

• Was it your internal colors? They never seemed to change, staying in that joyful shade…

• Of course, that changed once he got rid of some disturbances close to you. And the moment you had caught on.

• Jack knew you caught on when he saw your colors. And when you broke off from him, he wouldn’t allow it.

• He had personally broke in and chose to both drug and abduct you, carrying you over to his place whilst speaking of how much he loved you in the language you speak.

• Hearing it, even in your sleep, as well as feeling him kiss your forehead had made you shiver. Yet, you didn’t seem to know what you were in for yet.

• Well… Jack can determine that based on how good you are, yes-?

#record of ragnarok #record of ragnarok x reader #jack the ripper #jack the ripper record of ragnarok #jack the ripper x reader #snv jack the ripper #ror jack the ripper #jack the ripper ror #yandere jack the ripper x reader

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factorialsotherfandoms · 8 months

Text

xcom au, nothing especially anything, set in Cellbit's first few days with the group.

Cellbit is sat on the floor of the command room, an old books of crossword puzzles in hand. He has meticulously copied across the chart, not wanting to steal one of the few leisure items from the rest of the crew, and is filling it in. This one comes in French - not a language he knows well, but he is puzzling his way through.

He is just filling in 14A when a vaguely familiar someone ducks down before him. The green jumpsuit tells him little, except that the man isn't wearing it up - no, the sleeves are tied around his waist, the back bunched up, revealing the tank top beneath. For some reason he wears a hat even in here, an emerald hanging off it.

And then, perhaps more obvious, are the great black wings which fold awkwardly behind him. They're hybrid wings, that much Cellbit is sure of, but they do not fold particularly well.

He looks a bit strange.

They're all a bit strange here.

They're all a bit scarred here, too.

"Cellbit, right?" the man perches on the balls of his feet, elbows to his knees and rests his head on his hands.

"Yes?" Cellbit replies. "I'm sorry, I think I forgot you."

"No worries," he's flashed a grin. "You've got a lot of people to keep up to, I bet? I'm Philza. I remember."

Dragged from one matter to another, it takes Cellbit a few moments to put the pieces together. There was definitely gossip about this man, shared in hushed whispers and watching him interact with the others.

Philza Minecraft, Angel of Death, scourge of the Federation. Vanished alongside his partner in crime years ago, becoming little more than a fable.

One living on their ship, trusted to lead and advise though claiming no official role higher than squad captain.

"Angel?" he asks, because how can he not? "Death's Angel."

Philza's smile grows thin, "I swapped my sword for a medkit years ago. You're better off asking one of the others if it's murder you need - Jaiden's pretty hot at it these days."

Jaiden? Cellbit will bare that in mind.

"Sorry," he says, because he knows they all have pasts he would rather not come up - if Brazilian affairs were half as televised as those in English-speaking countries... Well, with Philza's past Cellbit could perhaps be proud, but parts of his own are better left untouched. "Did you need something?"

He's only been here three days; he cannot imagine anyone trusts him with much.

"Kinda," Philza tilts his head to the side a bit, eyes narrowing and looking all the birdier for it. "I'm told you like paperwork? And decoding shit?"

Cellbit blinks - once, twice, and "yes?"

Philza perks up again, "great! Because I've got a weird shit archive dating back about twenty five years that might want someone to look at them. I've been doing my best, but I am a fucking dumbass and cannot make heads or tails of it."

"Archive?" Cellbit can /feel/ his ears perk up at that - his control of the damned things having been lost in years of having them forcibly pinned away. "What sort?"

"Bit of this, bit of that," Philza shrugs. "Copies of mission records, newspaper clippings, shit the Theory Bros were looking into before the war... Weird crap Aypierre and Tubbo are done with, intercepted audio recordings, spy reports, random crap people picked up on missions... Photos. So many photos. Missing persons reports. That sort of stuff."

It sounds like a treasure trove.

It also sounds like it's going to be a nightmare to get into a usable state.

Fuck, if it's just been shoved in a storage room...

"Sure," Cellbit tries to hide both his excitement and his fear both. "I'm not busy."

"Great," Philza hops back onto his feet. "Because I am. I just found a few minutes to show you; Tubbo needs extra hands to test something, you know how it is with engineer types?"

And, yes, Cellbit does.

---

He is led through the ship to a tucked away room, down near the engines. Philza pushes open the door, and shows him inside.

With a flick of the lights... It's not as bad as Cellbit had assumed. Shelves with assorted objects line the left wall, a series of large, metal cupboards beneath them. Everything is fixed into place with metal strips and bolts - even the filing cabinets, all of which also lock. There's a chart on the wall with packs of coloured paper beneath, each colour representing a different research topic.

There are also cotton gloves - proper cotton gloves for working with documents! -

"While I was sorting," Philza says, already moving over to a cabinet. "I found a lot of this shit is related to more than one topic. Couldn't keep it separated by research field like the old archivist had been trying to, just a fucking dumbass idea. So, left to right, oldest to newest. I start filling a new cabinet from the bottom, so it stays better balanced. Anything paper goes in there - the folders are numbered to their order, please put them back right - objects in the shelves. Coloured sticky labels are where I think shit's related, but honestly you'll want to check it."

Cellbit is already peering over Philza shoulder, and into the drawer he opened. It's one of the pre-war old ones - pretty empty, but there's still a few pieces in there.

He grabs a folder and leafs through, marveling at the organisation, and just how well kept the records are - even at twenty four years old, the newspaper clippings are still perfectly legible and the paper at no risk of falling apart.

It's a missing person's report, one marked with the colour-tag as being unresolved. He's not surprised - if it had been it wouldn't be here - but it's not pleasant news.

And, tucked in with it is a series of printed out forum posts, ones discussing the article.

"It's not much," Philza shrugs. "But I try keep it organised, at least. Knew someone would want it some day."

"No, no," Cellbit puts everything back and slowly closes the door. "This is great! I was expecting worse. Can I see that one?"

He points at a random cabinet, somewhere near the middle.

Philza doesn't open it, he grabs a set of keys from one of to desks, and tosses them over.

"These are yours," he says. "So's the desk - mine's over there, though it's mostly used to dump unsorted shit on. Have fun with it all."

"You're leaving?" Cellbit asks. "Me here. With all these records. And the keys. Alone."

"Yeah?" Philza shrugs.

"I've been here three days. How do you just...?"

"Cellbit," Philza says. "Everyone higher than me in this damned organistion trusts you with their lives. Hell, I do too - I know you were feeding us that info. Not everyone does, but..." a shrug "I file the paperwork, you know? Can't solve it, but I can store the damned things. I've seen what you do, Cellbit - you've saved my ass more times than I can count. May as well give you the paperwork, fuck knows I don't know what to do with it."

"I have?" and Cellbit... Cellbit knows his info was good, but to hear it is...

"You sent the Order to Fit," Philza says. "I used my connection to him to get the Order to bail Missa out - my closest friends, I owe you. The warning of the shift in Thin Man biology? Saved our asses on the field. The base locations? The guard rotations? The info on treating laser wounds? There's not a person on this ship who doesn't owe you their life, Cellbit - what the fuck is some paperwork to that?"

"They would have managed," Cellbit says, already unlocking a drawer and flicking though one of the files inside.

This one is much fuller, and he spots photographs - ones taken by Philza, the backs read, showing off the areas where significant things happened.

"But we didn't have to," Philza replies. "Just.. Enjoy yourself, alright? I've left my notes where I could think of something, but I doubt it's worth shit."

"No, no, this is good," he puts the file back and grabs another. "Just needs an index."

"Indexing's all set up on your laptop," Philza taps on it, and only now does Cellbit spot the old piece of tech on the desk. "Tubbo refitted her."

"You indexed this," Cellbit looks at all the shelves, remembers this man leads missions, gives advice on running the Order - hell, he even runs it himself, when the others are indisposed - constantly being asked for aid and giving it... "It must have taken you ages."

"I was sorting through it all anyway, putting it all in date order and tagging the relevant queries and that," Philza shrugs. "Wasn't that much more work. Hour or two here and there over fifteen months or so?"

It's dedication. Cellbit nearly drops a file as the airship moves sharply, and in making sure everything in intact he misses Philza's escape.

Damn it. Well, if he has questions, he can ask later.

The index though...

Cellbit goes to the laptop, pulling it open and waiting for it to boot. There's a couple of things on there - Philza's desk has a full computer and printer, but Cellbit's new laptop has an external hard drive - but he ignores them for opening the index.

He expected just a list of reference numbers and which tags - maybe location, if he was lucky.

Instead.. Full database, all linked up. Reference numbers, tags, and locatgion, yes, but also summaries of the contents, a list of directly related items such as commentaries or other articles about the same event, a column for Philza's notes and one for Cellbit's, the locations of the originals if not stored in the archive...

Cellbit has killed for far, far less than this. And it's just... been handed to him? By someone saying it isn't much?

He doesn't quite get it, but...

He picks a mystery - something small for now. Opens up something to take notes on, and goes to collect the relevant files.

Soon enough he's absorbed so deep that he doesn't even notice Felps not-so-sneaking up behind him until he's already being hugged and told off for missing dinner - for vanishing all over again.

#qsmp x xcom #qsmp fanfic #qsmp philza #qsmp cellbit #i forgot to put this one on the vote list so take it quick-written and take it now lol #there's more of the two of them later in the series if I ever get to writing it #but for now... just this #happy cellbit!!! he's got an archive!!!#even if neither of them think what they did was actually as valuable as it was #cellbit'll work it out. phil... not so much

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mysticficti0n · 1 year

Text

All my attention Part 10

warnings- swearing, kissing, slight-teasing

words- 1.9k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so if you're new here I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... oh well

(I'm so sorry I've not done one of these in fucking ages but I've been so caught up in things and tomorrow is my sister birthday so this last week we've been doing things for her!)

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑ backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

Bill's words stuck with me the whole day- what were we now? I didn't have a title for us and neither did Tom so we looked blankly "it's a bit early to tell yet" I spoke curling my lips between my teeth, Bill rolled his eyes and stood up heading to the front door

"well when you decide, tell me" and he left leaving me and his brother sat, Tom just smiled warmly to me, his arm hooked around my waist and we fell back into the seat his face finding it's way to the crook of my neck

"can we stay like this for a while" he spoke into my skin "you're so warm" I hummed a laugh while drawing shapes onto his shoulder "sorry that happened by the way..."

"it's okay" he breathed "I can't believe he found you" I giggled feeling a smile spread across Tom's lips "but I guess it's not to bad him knowing- it's if the press see or fans or just anyone besides a few close people" we sat cuddled up for a while, speaking small sentences and keeping each other warm and comforted until the time rolled around and Tom had to leave

"I'll call you tonight" we stood at the front door, arms wrapped around each others waist "you'll have to tell me about what you did for the rest of the day"

"well I could probably tell you right now- I'll be sat in my room reading a magazine then falling asleep, fun right?" the dreaded boy laughed pressing a kiss to my head

"thrilling- right I actually gotta go now, love you" I pulled his head and our lips connected, a hum of pleasure came from his lips "I fucking love that I can do this now" he kissed one last time before saying goodbye and running back to his own house, I shut my door and stood In the hall thinking over the last day- so much has happened

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

"it was wonderful sweetheart! I didn't know you could cook so well" my dad grinned collecting all our plates "tasted just like nana's"

"well I thought I'd try it out as a surprise for you all coming home- what do you think Stella?" the little girl clapped her hands with a huge gummy smile across her sauce covered lips "good?"

"yeah!" she laughed as mom lifted her from her seat to clear her up "momma good?"

"it was, sunshine it was great! you'll have to cook more" I rolled my eyes playfully at my mother as she patted my shoulder walking by "right well I need to give Stell a bath- oh y/n could you do me a job, pop next door and ask if they have...oh whats the word?" my mom stood bouncing my sister on her hip

"your dress by any chance love?" my dad spoke pausing from washing the dishes

"yes yes! my yellow dress, tell Simone I'll pay her tomorrow" I nodded standing from my seat and grabbing my hoodie off the stairs, I grabbed my keys and went out, cutting across the lawn and jumping the wall over to their house, I went straight to the door and did my special knock, I herd a few shouts before a groan and the door flew open

"yeah- oh Y/n!" I saw Tom stood holding a bottle of coke in one hand and the door in the other "hey babe" he came out shutting the door behind him and pressing a kiss to my lips "what are you doing here?"

"hey I've come to get moms dress, that yellow one" he nodded re-opening the door and holding it for me, I walked in to see the Kaulitz's huddled round a table covered in monopoly "hello"

"Bill no you cant-hi sweets, you okay?" Simone asked coming over "wait let me guess- your mothers wedding dress? well wedding guest dress" I nodded "follow me" Tom smiled letting me follow his mom up the steps and him closely behind "it should be a better length now, if not tell her bring it back"

"it looks amazing, moms going to look beautiful- oh she told me to say she'll give you the money for it tomorrow" I watched Simone sigh giving the dress over

"your bloody mother- she's not paying me, I know she wouldn't make me pay. anyways; whats your dress like I herd it's a dark purple one right?" she asked sitting herself on her bed

"yeah it goes to my ankles, I have these black shoes to wear but the dress its self is like purple in one light then a blue shine? I guess you could call it that- kinda iridescent"

"you'll match Tom's tie! you two could go as a date" I turn to the boy who was already looking to me "Bill can take.. well I don't know" she trailed off as the two off us laughed at her words

"we could love" Tom elbowed my side and his moms eyes shot up "erm anyways- whats Stella wearing Y/n?" he tried to ignore his mothers gaze but I could already hear her words

"whats going on between you two?" she raised an eyebrow and a hot flush lay across my cheeks "Oh! I see- Bill was right then" she rubbed our shoulders then walked out with a small giggle

"right so mom now knows..." Tom huffed chewing his cheek

"its okay, I mean maybe its good? we said we'd only really let close friends and family know- bit earlier then we planned but" I rested a hand on his clenched one and felt him relax "it's gonna be okay"

"I love you Y/n" his free hand cupped my jaw bringing me close to him bar a few inches "so much" I pushed forward connecting our lips "fuck" he groaned arms moving to circle my body, his mouth moved down to my neck to my sweet spot

"Tom- no not there" I hummed trying push him away not that I didn't enjoy it, I was terrified his family would hear "To-ahh-Tom please" he pulled away with a smirk "such a idiot"

"aww" he purred tucking loose hair behind my ear "can't take it?"

"sure if you wanna think that but I'm going home now" I laughed trying to walk out the room but felt a hand grab my wrist "Tom!" he pulled me back jabbing his fingers into my side making laugh as it tickled "TOM STOP!" I cried falling to the floor throwing the dress to the side while trying to kick him away "STO-HAHA PLEASE STOP" He finally stopped helping me back up and kissing the corner of my mouth "fuck off being all lovely now- I'm going" I got the dress and walked out the room back down the stairs were Bill was giggling along with his mom

"okay Y/n" the black haired boy grinned

"goodbye" I walked out the house hearing the laughing begin again and I couldn't help but join in, I mean the whole thing was crazy I guess. I made it home giving the dress over and getting ready for bed as we had practice for a show soon and have to be there for 8 so I showered, shaved, did skin care, cleaned the bathroom and in no time it was 1:24am- I sat on my bed re-painting my nails before my phone started to ring saying Gustav "hm" I grabbed my cell and answered "Gus?"

"hellllooooo Y/n/n we need you're help especially Georg- he wants you" he sung

"huh! whats up with you?" the boy giggled before the phone was ripped from his hands "oh"

"hey Y/n" it was Georg "Give me the phone- erm sorry about that but ah... have you by any chance got time to come to..- Georg give me my fucking phone you asshole- I don't know the name.. okay its the bar by McDonalds and get me and Gustav?- Georg I.... I don't feel good- or get Tom to get us, we can't get a fucking cab and" Georg was interrupted by a heaving sound then splat "ON MY FUCKING SHOES YOU CUNT REALLY?" I began laughing "FUCK OFF OVER THERE- ima kill him"

I couldn't hold back my laugh hearing the angriness of the bassist "I'll get Tom to come get you because I don't drive yet but, I'll make the spare room up for you guys" a quick thanks was said before the line ended and I found Tom's number

"hey.. what's- whats up?" his voice was sleepy and I mean it was 1:30 almost

"hi so erm... Georg and Gustav need you to pick them up from the bar next to McDonalds- like now" I herd him groan but then the shuffling of bed sheets and his feet dragging

"I'll meet you in the car babe" I laughed but he was serious

"I'm not coming I need to get the spare room ready for the two"

"I'll be waiting" and he ended the call 'great'

┍━━━━━━━━━━ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ━━━━━━━━━━┑

"this is fucking stupid- why couldn't you guys walk to Y/n's instead of making me get up as well and drive to get your asses?" Tom scolded as the two clambered into the back

"well it was Georg's idea, he wanted to see Y/n" I herd a slap then a shrub from the bassist "what?!"

"dickhead" Georg grumbled staring out into the black streets, I saw Tom's jaw become tight, eyes narrower

"just say it dude- come on" Gus whispered erring another punch

"say what?" Tom turned back as we stopped at a red light "what's gotta be said?" he looked deadly, the red hue from outside making his features more intimidating

"Tom" I called giving him a 'look' but he ignored it "leave it they're drunk" I spoke just quiet enough for him to hear

"nothing has to be said man- he's bringing up shit" Georg protested, the lights switched and the guitarist turned back around giving me an angry look

"can you just take us home now" I asked turning to him, his body tense, knuckles like white mountains on his hands

"I'll fucking find out"

we made it home and the two boys had to help Gustav into the bed, quietly I stood watching Tom tuck in the drummer with an annoyed frown "thanks for this Y/n" Georg smiled nudging me "I'm sorry for what that dick was saying- his on a hole different world I promise I didn't wanna see you.. No no not that but- tell you what" the brunette rubbed my arm gently before walking away into the room nodding at Tom before getting in the bed. me and Tom tip toed into my room, shutting the door silently

"what did he say to you?" he spoke perching himself on the edge of my bed, I stood between his legs playing with his loose dreads

"that Gus is on his own planet and he didn't want to see me, but not like in a rude way but he gave up talking to me and just went to bed" Tom huffed resting his head on my stomach "you were a bit angry earlier Kaulitz?"

"of course I would be- don't want anyone acting like that toward my girlfri-" he stopped himself looking up to me and I couldn't stop the smile from forming on my face and nor could he "my girlfriend.. you... Y/n will you be my girlfriend?" I nodded whispering yes repeatedly "good" he spoke before our lips linked and I fell onto him, straddling him, his hands perched for a place to rest before getting comfy on my hips "love you baby"

"I love you too"

#tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz #tokio hotel #kaulitz twins #00s #georg listing #tom kaulitz #germany #tom kaulitz imagines #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel imagine #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz smut #bill kaulitz x reader

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

Note

Ok, so, I've never watched any of the qsmp streams, but I read your rambling about it and read your one shots abt it, and uh do you have any advice on how to get into watching the streams? Like where do I start? How to catch up on missed lore? Stuff like that

well there are a lot of different POVs you can choose to catch up on and which one(s) you choose will definitely affect your understanding of what's going on. if you want to just catch up on the primary major story beats overall (federation lore, main egg lore) this channel on youtube has made 3 videos so far summarizing the lore as it goes on. I haven't watched these videos myself so I can't say how accurate they are or if they leave anything important out, but I've heard positive things!

now if you wanna catch up on more individual lore/character dynamics and all that then you're facing a bit more of a challenge. I believe quackity has most of his qsmp vods uploaded on his vod channel so you can definitely check those out for his story stuff. if you wanna understand my fics better wilbur has the smallest number of qsmp vods out of the cc's at least somewhat tied into the storyline so it shouldn't be too hard to catch up on his stuff. his vod from day 1 of the qsmp has one of the funniest moments from any wilbur stream ever (yes I am referring to that moment he was talking to max) but I don't think you need to watch a ton from any of the day 1 POV's after the first hour or so.

while phil is the pov I watch the most for qsmp, he's definitely less involved in the plot. but unlike what I keep seeing some people on twt and tumblr say, he DOES participate in the rp and does care about the lore. he just doesn't go out of his way to get super involved in it and likes making 4th wall breaking jokes. but yeah if you're looking for more lore based stuff, phil might not be a great pov to watch as your primary.

now bad is the english speaking cc most involved in the heavy federation lore stuff, so his vods are definitely good to check out if you're looking for an english speaking cc to watch. jaiden's also definitely tied into it and has her own very interesting plotline going on atm involving the federation, but she doesn't stream as often so there are a few more gaps with her compared to bad who's been daily streaming for months now.

now for the cc's who don't primarily speak english, it's definitely a bit more of a challenge to watch those POVs if you don't speak the cc's language, but when many cc's are in a group they'll usually switch to english since that's the most common language on the server. also there's the translator that most of them have up on their screen, but it's not super accurate and a lot of the time cc's forget to switch it between languages so I don't rely on it much. for lore stuff, cellbit is a great choice because he's been heavily involved in investigating the federation and solving puzzles and all that since he first got on the server. from the french side, baghera jumped into lore stuff pretty quickly too so I highly recommend her pov as well

again I don't know how detailed/what the summary videos do and don't include but if you see clips from certain streams on that summary video that look interesting, I definitely recommend going to the vod itself and watching at least a bit of it. the group dynamic between all the players on the island is so delightful to watch. so many great friendships have formed bc of this server and it's so much fun to watch them grow in real time.

more than anything though when you're trying to catch up, go through the tumblr tag! follow people who liveblog a lot! follow the updates accounts on twitter! I actually don't catch many streams, but I'm usually pretty up to date on the big plot stuff happening on the server at all times just from what I see on my dash. read posts and check out the tags to absorb info via dash osmosis. that's how I caught up on dsmp when I first got into it back in january 2021 lol

hope this helps :)

#ask #anon #qsmp

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mageofseven · 1 year

Text

When Heat Cools: A MephistoMC Love Story

Chapter 4

Taglist: @astroseuss @fcxyviixen @jar-of-moondust @marvelous-maniac @missloserqueen

"So...what's with the whole 'mi corazón' thing?" MC ended up asking.

The two were now laying in bed next to each other.

"It's Spanish for 'my heart'." He smiled that same prideful way he did whenever he gloated about whatever knowledge or object he possessed.

"No shit, dude." The human laughed. "It's a human language though; how the hell do you know it?"

Mephisto raised an eyebrow.

The woman shook her head at him, expression suddenly changing from one of lightheartedness to one of annoyance.

"Noble children learn at least few human languages during their childhood." He explained. "Demons have always been a very academically driven race, just like the Dark Magicks before us, but many subjects are too challenging for us as children and that's why we wait till early adulthood in modern day to study at RAD. In order to keep our minds busy as children and keep our intellectual curiosity alive, they fill our time with the more elementary subjects from the Human realm like your languages, but also your various forms of math and sciences. Your people's physics was not nearly as difficult for me to master as some said it would be."

"Mephisto, do you even realize how condescending that sounds?"

The man merely blinked. Honestly, he doesn't understand what he did wrong this time and he usually picks up on it right away.

MC huffed.

"Your people have a history of talking down about about my people, of speaking of us as weak and inferior yet have no problem teaching their children a key element of various human cultures such as the languages we speak and teach them the maths and sciences, the culmination of all that my people have learned as a race, just to show off how their children can do it better?"

...okay when worded like that, the nobleman can understand why his love is upset.

"I...okay, I see your point." He agreed. "However, I did not mean to offend."

The human sighed and laid her head against his chest.

"Yeah, I know..." She mumbled. "Like...it's not a bad thing that you know this stuff. It just sucks that the reasons the adults around you made you learn it all were so...ya know."

Mephisto pursed his lips. Through her, he was growing to see a lot wrong with the way his family and his people did things and it was...a very uncomfortable situation. He used to fight it, double down with the 'humans are inferior' talk, but since that night and especially now that he has dedicated himself to this woman and their child, he can't afford to hide from the truth of that matter for the sake of his own comfort. That would be disrespectful to MC, but also to his half human child.

Noticing how upset he was, the woman quickly continued the conversation.

"So, what other languages did you learn?"

Mephisto wrapped an arm around her waist, resting his hand on her small belly.

"Well...French, Turkish, Arabic, Swahili, Yoruba, Ukrainian," He listed off before sighing. "I started learning Swedish, but my mother had scolded me, said I was too old for such 'childish endeavors'."

"I take it that's how they see Human realm knowledge?"

"...Sadly, yes." He admitted, giving her belly a gently rub.

His parents have made it very clear how they felt about humans over the years...how were they going to react to this baby then, their grandchild? After accepting that he will not abandon his child or the human he loves, at least?

Honestly, Mephisto still had no idea how to handle his parents, but knew he had to figure out some way to bring about their acceptance--or at least, their leniency.

That when MC's bedroom door opened.

"Look, I gotta--" Mammon said guiltily before pausing in his tracks. "Wait, the hell is he here for?!

The woman sat up.

"Mammon, relax--"

"The hell should I relax for?" He stepped further into the room and glared at the nobleman next to her. "After all the shit ya put her through, ya still stringin' her along?"

Mephisto tightened his hold on his girlfriend as he stared the the Avatar of Greed down.

"I am doing no such thing." The noble retorted. "Maybe you would be better off not speaking of things you know nothing about."

"Mephi." The woman scolded him softly; the last thing she needed was these two fighting.

"Oh I know nothin', huh?" Oh boy... "Well, who the hell do you ya think was here for her while you were runnin' like a coward these last couple months, huh?"

"You're one to talk." The Mephisto said bitterly. "How many times have I seen you run from your brother after you've stolen something from the school? You wouldn't know bravery and accountability if your precious big brother stapled it to your face--"

"That's enough!" MC covered her ears and was now crying on her bed.

"Shit..." Mammon mumbled.

"Mammon, just go..." She sniffled.

The greed demon looked like he was about to say something, but thought better of it. Instead he headed out the door just as she asked.

"Mi corazón..." Mephisto reached out to her, just for MC to gently push his hand away.

"Please go home." She asked him. "I...I just want to be alone right now."

The nobleman watched her guiltily for a moment longer before nodding.

Mephisto...he may not like most of the brothers, but he's going to have to learn to get along with them for MC's sake.

#obey me #obey me otome #obey me mc #obey me mephistopheles #obey me mephistopheles x mc #obey me mephisto x mc #mephistopheles x mc #obey me mammon

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writergirl3 · 2 years

Text

4 Town General Headcanons; Pt. 2

I really liked writing the first round of general hcs, so here are some more 🧡

Robaire;

As well as French, he speaks Spanish and a bit of Italian. All the romantic languages are pretty on brand for him, let’s be honest.

He’s visited every continent. His Dad traveled a lot for work when Robaire was a kid, and the boy was lucky enough to accompany him on some of his trips.

Surprise surprise, his favourite food is anything French. Particularly ratatouille. He always makes time for a proper breakfast in the morning and will munch on a baguette pretty much all day, no matter where he is. T always makes fun of him for eating bread that looks like a…well, y’know.

He used to wear brown contacts. While he embraces his hazel/green eyes now, he used to think they made him look too different. A kid at school once called him an alien and after that he begged his parents for coloured contacts.

He loves Stevie Wonder. Like, adores the man. When he’s at home, he always has his music playing on vinyl. He got to meet him in 4 Town’s early days and let me tell you, the guy cried for like three days straight.

The guys are convinced that Robaire is immune to the cold. You’ll never see him wear a pair of gloves, and the poorly-circulated Jesse is so bitter about Ro’s ability to stay warm no matter what.

Jesse;

Jesse’s a really strong swimmer. One time when Tae went too deep in the sea when snorkeling and started freaking out, Jesse had him out of there in no time.

He always, always makes the guys handmade birthday cards. It’s become a tradition and the boys lowkey look forward to the card more than the gift.

He needs glasses and hates it. What’s worse is that he’s freaked out by putting anything near his eye so contacts are a struggle. The only one who can help him is Z, who has mastered the art of distracting Jesse and then dropping the contact on his eye before he can freak out.

He's super protective over his younger sisters and gave all the guys a serious talking to. Even if they find his sisters cute, none of the guys are willing to risk Jesse's wrath.

He pierced his own ear and then did the same for T. Was it a good idea? Maybe. Maybe not. Still, he felt pretty badass about it.

Aaron T;

Loads of people headcanon T as a Spanish-speaker and all I can say is YES. He’ll babble away to himself in Spanish so fast that Robaire can’t even understand. If they wanna prank the other boys, though, they’ll just start conversing in Spanish and piss them off. This gets on Z’s nerves, especially. T speaks Italian too, but just prefers Spanish more.

He’s left-handed and has tried to teach himself to write with his right hand. Because he’s a dumbass, he’s also determined to successfully write with his feet. Don’t ask me why.

This guy gets through like two cellphones a year. Thankfully, being a member of 4 Town means he can afford all the little mishaps. One of them included running over his own phone with Jesse’s minivan. The less said about it, the better.

He used to straighten his curls when he first joined 4 Town. Straight hair was, and still is, in, so he felt kinda pressured. He soon got bored of sitting with Jesse’s straighteners for more than five minutes, though, and everyone loves his curls, anyway.

Aaron Z;

I mentioned this before, but he hates alcohol. Fully despises it. As if the taste weren’t bad enough, he’s freaked out by the idea that a little too much of the stuff could turn him into another person. He feels the same about drugs, and is resistant to even taking painkillers for the same reason.

Robaire persuaded Z to try twisting his hair. Z thought they’d get in the way when he was playing sports, and he’d always kept his hair short and natural for that reason. When Robaire didn’t stop nagging him, he tried them, and secretly thinks he looks better with them than he did before.

Although Z is pretty much always seen wearing athletic gear, he’s simple with his style otherwise. He likes wearing simple tops and pants, although you’ll rarely see him in long sleeves. He’s warm-blooded and overheats really easily, and once spent Christmas Day in a pair of shorts.

We all know that Z looks intimidating and can come off as judgemental, but he’s super sentimental. Even more so than Tae and Robaire. While his face gives nothing away, his heart could be bursting with love inside.

In that same vein, Z is a really good writer. He fumbles over his words when he speaks, but becomes someone else when he writes. It’s like a window into his mind.

Tae Young;

Tae is a foodie, and he desperately wants to learn how to bake. He just can’t do it, though. Z tried to give him some lessons, but it ended in a shouting match (don’t worry, they made up after). Tae just has no time for instructions. Seriously, T probably has better focus in this department. Just leave Tae to ice some cupcakes or something and he’ll be happy enough.

He goes back to South Korea at least once a year to see his grandparents. He was super close to them when he was growing up and always showers them with gifts when he sees them now.

Tae's a big advocate of body positivity. He was a little chubby as a kid and found weight-related stuff difficult because of it. He's always telling 4Townies that they're beautiful no matter their size. The guys have learnt a lot from him, and the Aarons in particular have so much respect for Tae's passion.

He’s even more of a neat freak than Robaire, which is saying something. Tae loves T, but will whoop his ass if the brunette touches a single thing in his bedroom. He likes things a certain way, and there’s nothing wrong with that.

---

Musing Meaninglessly Masterlist

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jmagnabo92 · 1 year

Text

PM - April 27 - 58 - Language

@prongsfoot-microfic

When James struggles to say the words to ask Sirius out, he decides to use a flower language and a card to finally make it work.

AO3

***

James flops down on his bed, annoyed. He’d been trying to tell Sirius how he felt about him for ages, but every time he tries, he can’t get the words out. He’s always been so free with his friend-love that now that it’s romantic-love he doesn’t know how to differentiate.

“What’s wrong, my dear,” Remus teases from his own bed.

“I tried to tell Sirius that I’m in love with him and want to go on a date.”

“Tried?”

“Yeah, it kind of came out as gibberish.”

Remus laughs.

“It’s not funny!” James groans. “I’ve been trying to tell him for ages, but I can’t get the words out.”

“Have you tried a different language?”

“What? Like French?”

“No, you dunce – like Flower Language. Something that doesn’t involve speaking.”

James sits up. “Oh, you’re brilliant!”

Then he takes off. He knows there’s an old ad for the perfect set of flowers to ask someone on a date and he could order them to be delivered tomorrow with a note from him, but he needed to order now, or it won’t be delivered in the morning.

***

James is a bit more than jittery waiting for the mail to come. The set of flowers for Sirius should arrive and he could only hope that Sirius likes them. Likes him. Wants to be with him.

Oh, what if he doesn’t? What if he laughs or ends their friendship? This was a bad idea.

James moves to run far away when Remus pulls him into his seat. “Don’t be a coward now James. You’ll be fine.”

Just then, the set of red Chrysanthemums flowers are given to Sirius with a note.

Sirius, you’ve always been more to me than my best friend – would do me the honor of being my boyfriend? - James

Sirius looks up from the note to James. “Is this what you’ve been trying to tell me all week?”

“More than all week. It’s been ages.” James shrugs. “I couldn’t get the words out – is that – are you…”

“Yes, of course, I’ll date you.”

James smiles and moves around the table to sit beside his new boyfriend and gives him a kiss. “Good, that’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

“Always.”

#Prongsfoot #Bambibelle #Sirius Black #James Potter #Remus Lupin #58

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meirimerens · 8 months

Note

your art is so beautiful im jumping around the room & clapping & cheering whenever i see it on my dash. big Motif Enjoyer over here so i go soo crazy for all your farkhad works (& Everything generally but im a big farkhadhead for some reason. love the Guilt! love the Terrors! love whatever fourfold/three-and-a-halffold bullet has going on!). pointing & cheering whenever he shows up. your stuff makes me want to get more ambitious with my own art & replay patho1 so bad (& also improve my french so i can read your fics 😔). fantastic all of it..... thanks for being out here solider you are doing the most 🫡

WE LOVE TO HEAR IT... WE LOVE TO HAVE YOU HERE... THANK YOU FOR # ENJOYING HIS MOTIFS AND WHATEVER ELSE HE GAHT GOING ON... 🫶🫶 always overjoyed & giggling to hear my stuff makes people want to Game and to Grind... keep pushing keep doing it. images and motifs make the world go round.

and let me be 100% about what i write in french: i spend my ages 11 to 13 copy and pasting english fics into google translate (we did not even have deepL then. it was the trenches.) to read them. i will never be mad at anyone who doesn't speak my language for just plopping my shit into google translate to get the gist of it. will a lot be lost in translation? yes. will the rhythms the rhyming and some general images be lost? YES. but you can always come back to it later. when you have more #knowledge. go forth and read stuff that's how you learn. that's how i learned a lot of vocabulary.

🫡

#ring ring (answers)#anonymous

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onyxisnotuniqueenough · 1 year

Text

About Karen Page

so. i know this weird little argument should've ended long ago. but i'm in the process of rewatching the defenders saga and i'm actually in the middle of s2 of Daredevil....AND YES I WANNA WRITE A WHOLE TUMBLR POST ABOUT KAREN OK

but first, i wanted to give a little extra info or context or whatever i'm supposed to call it

here are the links to the posts relevant here

0 (me)

1 (me)

2 (me)

3 (nyxxhecate)

4 (nyxxhecate)

5 (nyxxhecate)

also the comments count too. look at whatever nyxxhecate commented on these posts

I unblocked nyxxhecate since i first blocked them, out of honest curiosity. right before i'm writing this actually.

I just wanted to see if they've commented anything else since then or if they made posts on their own about their opinions on Daredevil. Three of the links above are their posts, and idk if tumblr notifies for that but I still don't want to @ them.

I'm not interested in debating with them or starting another argument, and couldn't care less of they see this or not. I am not writing to this person like i was in my other posts, nor am i answering to their comments or whatever points they brought up in their reblogs.

there is ONE thing they said that rang with me though :

"knock your fucking self off that pedestal you're trying to put yourself in. Imagine the level of delusion one must have to think they're intelligent because, *checks notes* they typed in word salad to defend why they like two atrocious TV characters LMAO. You're on Tumblr not the fucking Congress, get a grip IJBOL"

I'm gonna be honest here - I DO enjoy typing word salad. I enjoy writing. I enjoy writing essays. I enjoy trying to use exact words to say what i want to say.

English is my second language, technically, yes, but I have been speaking it for more then ten years, and i'm doing my best to improve because i'm hoping that i'll get to work in english some day. My accent isn't perfect but I'm confident in my spelling and writing and everything.

I've been raised in french, I've done primary, middle and high school in french, and my uni is also french-speaking. I write everything in french all of the time. But since i've taught myself to think in english first sometimes, and none of my irl friends or family like Daredevil or Breaking Bad or anything i like in general - I don't get many chances to argue irl.

So yes, I use Tumblr as an outlet to type as much as I want, even if that means talking to a wall, but at least i get to talk about (IN LENGTH) things i love - and open some kind of discussion (although i'm not blind, i know that rarely anyone replies or anything, but that will hopefully come in time)

---

Now that that's said - let's get to the actual main course :

Karen Page !

As I've said in the beginning i am in the middle of s2 of DD, just finished EP6 : Regrets Only to be precise. I've already got a few things to say.

but first : I'll only talk about her in S1 and S2 and Defenders - because believe it or not, as much as I love Daredevil I AM SORRY but I HAVE NOT YET WATCHED SEASON 3. i miraculously haven't been spoiled about much, all I know is that Matt wakes up in church after his "death", boxes there, there's some kind of detective that seems important and he fights with Fisk again in his black outfit. THAT'S ALL I KNOW AND LET'S KEEP IT THAT WAY.

So.

what do i, Onyx LastName, think of Karen's character.

On my first watch, I didn't like her at all.

Not because she was a "hypocrite"or whatever everyone else is spewing but because I had this huge crush on Matt and was jealous of her.

I'll admit, that's all that my judgement was based on. I thought I didn't like her chemistry with Matt, the way that it made the Nelson-Murdock-Page trio awkward, and how it left Foggy on the sidelines. I like him. I related to him. He was suffering of Sidekick syndrome, with Matt getting powers, getting to be the hero, getting all the ladies, etc etc. I spent my whole life and I'm still actually spending it feeling like I have Sidekick Syndrome myself. If you also feel like you got that you'll know what I mean.

"So Foggy has a special place in your heart. Boohoo. what does that have to do with anything?" You've read this far and you're JUST NOW running out of patience??

Since that initial watch, and after watching countless videos, reading countless fanfics, and honestly my taste just having changed - my perspective of Matt shifted, and so has my opinion on Karen.

I don't think i'm blinded by my attration to Matt anymore, even if he still holds a special place in my heart.

But unfortunately, I still have some issues with Karen's character.

I don't think I've ever really talked about it on here, except maybe with a friend or two in dms, but it's true that I don't really like her. Or how was she was written. This post is not structured or outlined, it's a stream of consciousness...so let's hope i get the answer to that by the end of it.

Now i'm nowhere near agreeing with ANY of what nyxxhecate said, but knowing I wanted to have a definitive opinion of her and make a post about it maybe, I've been looking at her closely during my rewatch - and there are some things I've missed.

So, first, to correct my previous post,

Why is Karen attracted to Matt in the first place?

I made my post about the Foggy and Karen thing before rewatching and refreshing my memory of the ACTUAL EVENTS. I just wrote that in passing after seeing a reaction of that "date" at Mrs. Cardenas.

Here is an updated take :

I think Karen fell for Matt when she first lied to him about keeping the Union Allied file.

You just lived through an intense traumatic experience. You find yourself with a bloody knife in your hand next to the lifeless body of someone you knew and found really nice. Someone tries to hang you in your prison cell at night to make it look like you killed yourself, and no one believes you.

until Nelson and Murdock come in. You're not sure about their intentions at first but they seem kind and most importantly they believe you and are willing to defend you. They're giving you a chance. Not good samaritans but literal guardian angels.

While Foggy is hesitant at first, Matt "I believe you Miss Page"s you right off the bat. (everything's a verb if you squint hard enough)

Matt invites you to his place and assures he'll protect you.

Matt opens up about his blindness and is willing to be vulnerable in front of you.

Matt gives up his silk-sheeted bed to make sure you're comfortable.

All of that when you're vulnerable and Matt is tall and handsome and has this charming smile and ugh. How not to fall for him ? I mean you're wearing his shirt and the beautiful pink lighting in his living room is making everything all romantic. Also if you've noticed the billboard outside his window is for "Xining Airways", company that uses CHERRY BLOSSOM imagery in their advertisement. COME ON.

But then you get to talking about the case again - I mean the reason you're here in the first place - and he asks you an important question.

Did you keep the file?

You lie and say you didn't, feeling your heart beating faster. You're not even sure that sounded convincing at all. And you see the cogs turning in his head, and even if he let you off the hook, you know deep down he didn't really believe it. May seem like me extrapolating here but it IS obvious that he doesn't believe her. But as long as he's not pushing further, that doesn't change much for Karen anyway.

I think that his expression reads that he's seeing right through her.

He believed her when no one else would the first time - but seemingly for no reason.

Matt just KNEW you didn't do it. He saw right through you. You almost feel like he knows what you're thinking.

And again, that kind of connection that you're feeling, in an especially emotionally vulnerable state - plants the seed for love. EASILY.

Any of their awkward flirting before they started dating i am willing to close an eye on.

AFTER THAT? that's just cruel to Foggy and unprofessional and weird in general. Why the HELL are you holding hands in front of whatever DA or cop you just talked to to walk in Frank's hospital room?

Why are you kissing in front of Foggy???

I can understand the thing at Josie's but when you're in the middle of dealing with an extremely important case and Elektra's driver shows up out of nowhere and you're abandoning your partner in a situation that you created and ugh. ew. It's all so weird.

I don't like Karen and Matt dating any more than I did on the first watch but I don't see it through jealousy-tinted glasses and more for what it actually is. misplaced.

Season 2 is the least favorite Daredevil season of anyone I've ever met or talked to and I completely agree that the structure is strange, even if I get what they wanted to do with juxtaposing

Daredevil/Elektra/Hand stuff

and

Matt/Karen/Punisher stuff.

This juxtaposition, while I kinda get the vision, just isn't working. The Hand is the worst plot I have ever seen in my life, and that applies to Defenders too, so that's one reason, but the fact that they tried to mix everything together at once just felt weird pacing wise - and they lost characterization on Matt, Foggy and Elektra's part. All three and their relationships with each other were written weird.

...

Let's get back on track.

Season 2, Karen spends her time investigating and defending Frank.

And that is what she's most criticized for : "protecting and defending frank's actions" and "condemning Matt's lying when she's lying herself."

Frank Castle is a difficult subject.

He is the subject of many debates, wether in the fandom or in the actual show. Is he a hero? Are his murders justifiable? Are Matt and Frank two sides of the same coin? What message is he sending to the audience? How should he be interpreted by his audience? Is Frank redeemable? Is he a glorification or a fetishization of everything that's wrong with the USA? and so on so forth bla bla bla

What matters HERE is what KAREN thinks of him.

Karen is a very determined and ambitious journalist, to say the least. She'd do anything to get to the truth. These qualities that seem very noble at first are also her main flaws. By putting the story first, she throws caution the wind and that very recklessness of hers is what kills Ben Urich, and what compels her to defend Frank so adamantly.

But there's a facet of her personality that I haven't seen being delved into or explained anywhere - her sometimes misplaced but very much there Savior complex, or White Knight syndrome.

She empathized and honestly liked Mrs. Cardenas (a cute old little guatemalan christian lady, who had no one). She wanted to help her. She felt that she was treated unfairly, that all the tenants were treated unfairly, and that was what prompted her to want to take down Fisk. Fisk was using, manipulating and stealing blind people who were already unfortunate. Fisk is lying to the public and hiding his true criminal activities. Savior Complex is activated, now Karen has to find a way to bring him down, even if that means putting her nose where it doesn't belong and provoking the death of Ben Urich.

Now let's look at the situation in S2.

She empathizes with Frank Castle (a man who's entire family got killed and now has no one). He has some kind of moral code that seems noble to her. She feels that he's being treated unfairly, that no one is taking his dead family into account, or what he's already done as a soldier. Frank is unapologetically admitting and sticking by his actions and his code. He doesn't want to hurt anyone that doesn't deserve, in his eyes, to die. Reyes is not upholding her side of the wit-pro deal (She used Grotto as bait, someone Karen already empathized with). Reyes was purposefully trying to get Frank the death penalty for her own gain (she had her eye on the mayor's office) and is hiding a shady past. Savior Complex is activated, now Karen has to find a way to prove that Frank's not all bad and to expose Reyes, even if that means putting her nose where it doesn't belong and overstepping boundaries when she's not a lawyer, and frankly doesn't deserve to get Ben's desk or his job.

When you finally pin down her behavioral pattern and why she acts how she acts, it's easier to understand.

So yes, I understand Karen. (In my opinion at least.)

What makes her who she is is that savior complex of hers, that MORAL code of her own. How she sees herself and what she thinks is her PURPOSE is how she justifies her mistakes, or the risks she takes, to herself. As means to an end.

She doesn't seem to doubt herself or question herself enough to see that her behavior, even if her goal is noble, is not always right.

Her believing that she acts as a savior to others is precisely what makes her a little self-centered.

And, because Matt has this problem too sometimes, she is an interesting character to compare to him.

But now, see, as i've spend a lot of time writing this, my own cogs are turning. I think I've identified what my problem is with Karen.

It's how she's framed. by the writers. by the show.

We see Matt's guilt but don't see hers.

We see his internal turmoil but not hers.

We see him doubt himself all the time and seek for answers in his faith or in people but not her.

If we got to see Karen doubt herself more, show more of her guilt over her killing Wesley, her causing the death of Urich, that would make for a much more likeable and relateable character.

When she argues with Matt or something, what she says makes it seems "hypocritical" of her not to hold herself to the same moral standards than she does others.

But I don't think seeing the flaws in others means you don't see your own. Again, if we had seen Karen questioning and doubting herself, and feeling guilty for what she's done (and not just crying or having ONE nightmare about it. Her trauma should have been more explored in general. from the beginning.) then we'd see that she is self-aware and recognizes her own mistakes and her continuing to feed into her savior complex is her way of finding closure. or trying to save herself from being completely consumed by her own guilt.

So yes. I don't like Karen, not because I don't like her, but be..cause...I wish... we'd seen more of her? or at least framed her differently?

I didn't think I'd reach that conclusion. I thought I'd actually find a real reason not to like HER.

But that's maïeutique for you i guess. or to put it differently, rubber-ducking, right? Isn't that programming lingo?

Also maybe i'm not completely over how Matt and Karen third-wheeled Foggy. or how Matt doesn't really fit with any of his on-screen love interests and how I wish they hadn't dated. but that's a story for another day.

Thank you for reading this far, if you're still here! Tell me your thoughts and opinions on Karen or my own way of explaining it :)

#daredevil #karen page #matt murdock #foggy nelson #netflix daredevil #marvel netflix

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