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taexual · 4 years

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i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (2)

jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: sassy!jungkook vs sassy!MC, mentions of drunk driving

words: 5.2k

chapter two

The hospitals were usually glum and even off-putting and yet when you showed up to pay Jungkook an obligatory visit the next day after the party – because for reasons beyond you, you felt like you had to see him at least once to make sure he really was okay even though the paramedics that pulled him out of the totaled car had already told you he’d be fine – it felt like you were on set of a medical drama.

The entire hallway where Jungkook’s hospital room was located was full of people who weren’t there to visit but rather to make sure that the sole heir of JJ Holdings was not disturbed or, God forbid, photographed. The tabloids were already speculating what had to have happened to him to make him crash his car so close to his own house, and, frankly, there weren’t a lot of answers that made sense.

And yet, despite that, Jungkook’s family fought their hardest and denied every accusation, claiming that their beloved son, their youngest family member, could never drive under the influence and that it was, really, the horrible weather conditions to blame.

It had been a clear night – albeit a little windy – but you knew better than to get involved in this.

You had assumed that this situation had to have set Jungkook’s family on edge but then his mother enveloped you in a warm hug as soon as she saw you, so maybe not. You’d always liked her – it was Jungkook’s father that intimidated you – so you didn’t mind the fact that you hadn’t seen her since you went off to college three years ago.

“It’s so sweet of you to come,” she said kindly, but she seemed surprised to learn that you knew of her son’s accident.

It took you a while to understand why that was – as it turned out, in the wild chaos that erupted when Jungkook was brought to the hospital, no one bothered to ask who had called the ambulance. And it didn’t really matter anyway, you supposed. Maybe you shouldn’t have even come.

“It’s nothing,” you said with a polite smile. “How is he?”

“Oh, he’s alright,” she said and, just like with Jungkook last night when you’d asked him how his mom was doing, her answer was automatic. He could have been in a grave condition and she’d have still smiled and said that her son was doing just fine.

His family was constantly playing a role for other people. Most of the time, they acted like they walked on paths covered entirely in rose petals, and that nothing could ever inconvenience them.

It was painful to see that she felt the need to keep the act around you too, but, then again, your mother was now the only one that was still in touch with Jungkook’s family, so that made you an outsider.

“Can I see him?” you asked, starting to feel more awkward by the second. “I brought some comfort food. Even though I don’t know if he even likes this anymore—”

“He’ll really appreciate it,” his mother cut you off and, maybe it was just wishful thinking on your part, but it sounded like she meant it. “His dad is there with him right now but it’s been a while, so you can probably go in there, too. Maybe they both fell asleep.”

You doubted that very much – the Jungkook you used to know never lowered his guard around his father, at least not enough to fall asleep in his presence – but you swallowed whatever objections you may have had and simply nodded.

“Okay, thank you,” you said and walked past her towards Jungkook’s hospital room.

You had to round a corner to reach it and, as soon as you did, you felt yourself exhale in relief. You’d forgotten what it was like to be around Jungkook’s family. Constantly participating in their game of we-are-a-perfect-family-please-oh-please-believe-us was exhausting.

You were about to knock on the door, the chocolates you’d brought for Jungkook clutched tightly in your hand – you felt stupid to have brought them now because, really, what were the odds that he still liked the same candy as he did when he was 12? – when you heard talking inside and stopped short.

Clearly, Jungkook and his father were very much awake and, by the sound of it, currently in the middle of a very heated discussion (because the Jeon family never argued, they just talked louder than usual sometimes).

“I’m tired,” his father was saying. You debated if you should walk away or just wait it out in case their exchange was coming to an end. “I’m sick of this, you hear me? How many times have you tried to sabotage everything we’ve worked for? How many times—”

Inhaling sharply, you pulled away from the door and leaned against the opposite wall instead. You hoped you couldn’t hear them from over there but, unfortunately – or, perhaps, luckily – you still could. And, before you even considered returning to Jungkook’s mother to wait with her, you were already too curious to move.

Yes, you were the cat, and you knew you were about to get killed. But, oh, the satisfaction!

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook said quietly inside of the hospital room and you could almost see the shame all over his face. He had never lived up to his father’s expectations but this seemed to be the last straw.

“Listen to what I say because I am not going to repeat myself,” his father said as a nurse walked past you and you had to pull your phone out to pretend that you weren’t being nosy. “You can forget all about the company – hell, you can forget all about your own future if you keep going like this.”

“Dad—”

“You’re still so young but it’s like you’re purposefully looking for a tragic end of your life,” Jungkook’s father continued, not letting his son interject, “you’ve been acting like a completely brainless idiot ever since you started high school and, you know what, now it’s time you stopped. You’re in college now and I’m done watching you destroy yourself and our legacy.”

“I’m an adult,” Jungkook said, sounding very much like a child, “you can’t tell me how to live my life.”

His father laughed and you could have shivered if you weren’t so busy pretending not to be listening as nurses and doctors coursed back and forth in the hallway.

“You’re also my son,” he said then and it would have been a very nice gesture if he stopped there. But he didn’t. “And the heir to our family’s company. What you do is a reflection of us, and your latest stunt will certainly paint us in the most beautiful colors. So, you can think you’re the only one responsible for your life all you want, but the truth is, you’ll always be tied to the rest of us.”

“Right,” Jungkook lost the previous restraints he had, “so, what? Will you have me drop out of college so you can supervise my every move, starting now?”

“Absolutely not,” his father replied. “You went to university to learn how to run a business, to gain leadership skills, to learn how to be a proper grown-up. You might be an heir, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get to sit back and relax while money falls from the trees around you.”

“I know that,” Jungkook said and you knew he meant it. His parents had taught him to work hard since day one – surely not a lot of toddlers learned how to read even before they stopped using the potty.

“You don’t know anything. Don’t embarrass me by saying you do,” his father countered. “You haven’t put any actual work towards your future. You’ve got that band of yours, which is all good, there’s nothing wrong with having a hobby—”

“It’s not—”

“—but if that’s the reason why you’re in this situation right now,” his father continued, not even hearing Jungkook object, “then maybe it’d be better if you focused on your studies instead. Otherwise, I don’t see the point why you should join the company this summer.”

It was quiet for a while after that and you thought they finished talking. You even put your phone away, ready to head down the hallway and act like you just got here, but then Jungkook spoke up again.

“The things that I do in college,” he said slowly, “will not interfere with my job at the company.”

“You can forget that job – and any other job, actually – if you don’t pull yourself together,” his father said.

“Well, what should I do, then?” Jungkook asked. “What do I have to do to prove to you that I don’t need to pull anything together because I’m fine? It’s just that you--”

“Admitting that you’re not fine would be the first step.”

“I-I’m serious,” he said, sounding a little more discouraged now. “What should I do?”

“Well, you’re an adult,” his father said, using his own words against him. “Why don’t you figure that out yourself?”

The room fell silent again and, a few moments later, you heard footsteps approaching the door of Jungkook’s hospital room. Jumping away from the wall, you jogged down the opposite hallway and only turned around when you heard the door open. But Jungkook’s father left the room and walked away without bothering to even glance your way.

When he disappeared behind the corner, you stopped behind Jungkook’s open door, not daring to enter just yet. You felt even less confident about being here now that you’d overheard his conversation with his father but you only had yourself to blame for that – you could have walked away as soon as you realized they were still talking.

The saying should have mentioned that curiosity may not have necessarily killed the cat, but it certainly made it feel very uncomfortable.

Taking a deep breath, you braced yourself and gave the door of his room a gentle knock before poking your head inside. Jungkook was laying down, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, but he lifted himself up on his elbows when he saw you.

“Wow,” he said and a smile crept up to his bruised face, “you’re the last person I expected to see here.”

If you hadn’t just witnessed the fiery scolding he’d received from his father, you would have never been able to tell that something happened. Acting must have been in his blood as he continued to smile while you entered the room and closed the door.

You had to admit, he looked much better today – excluding the saline drip next to his bed, the fresh stitches on his forehead, and the several cuts and bruises scattered all over his face, of course – but that had to be due to the fact that his face was no longer stained with fresh blood.

“I felt like I had to come since I was the one who called the ambulance and then refused to ride with you to the hospital,” you explained yourself.

“Thanks,” Jungkook said, teasing. “I appreciate that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you’d expected this reaction, “it was already awkward enough to talk to you after so long, I didn’t think we were close enough for a ride in the ambulance together.”

“But we’re close enough for you to visit me in the hospital?”

“Like I said, I felt bad.”

“You should,” he said with ease. “I could have died.”

You rolled your eyes. “Your injuries weren’t that bad. The car took the brunt of it.”

“How do you know that?”

You asked the paramedics, that’s how – although, that was a massive understatement. What you really did was cry and beg them to tell you if Jungkook was alive – you even pulled on the sleeves of their jackets like a child, demanding attention – but you’d never admit it out loud.

In your defense, Jungkook’s entire face was bloody when the paramedics pulled him out of the car – courtesy of the nasty cut on the upper corner of his forehead that the doctors have stitched up now – and he was unconscious so, really, your reaction was completely rational, all things considered.

“I asked before they took you away, of course,” you responded simply. “I’m not heartless.”

“Well, that’s good to know, then,” he said. “And, for what it’s worth, I would have definitely taken the ambulance with you if our situations were reversed.”

“It’s not worth anything because there’s no way our situations would ever be reversed. I’m smart enough not to drive when I’m drunk,” you said and he was the one to roll his eyes this time, “and, anyway, you had your members in the ambulance with you. It would have been suffocating with me there, too.”

He didn’t respond but kept his eyes on you and the same awkwardness you’d felt in the hallway outside of his hospital room returned.

You couldn’t seem to find a place to settle in – there was only one chair in the room and it had his jacket laying across it; you didn’t dare move it – so you stood still, switching your weight between one leg to the next, while his eyes burned into you.

“I… I brought you something,” you finally managed to say – mostly because the chocolates in your hands were now in danger of melting due to how hard your palms were sweating. “It’s not—”

You had extended your hand to put the candy on the cupboard next to his bed and, as soon as he noticed them, he didn’t even wait for you to finish.

“You remembered!” his cry reminded you of the nine-year-old Jungkook who’d stuff his face with these chocolates until he couldn’t even breathe anymore. You stopped and turned to look at him in surprise. “Oh, man, I haven’t had these in so long. Where did you even find them?”

“I know a store,” you said with a soft smile. You put the candy down and took a step back, feeling even more out of place now that your hands were empty. “I—”

“Well, sit, have one,” he encouraged, leaning out of bed to pick his jacket up from the chair, and tossing it on the floor instead. The catheter in his hand must have strained his skin as he did that but Jungkook didn’t let it show. “Mind you, I said one. I’m selfishly saving the rest of them for myself because I am barely getting fed here.”

You chuckled. “That’s okay, you can have all of them. Is the hospital food really that bad?”

“Oh, don’t get me started,” he groaned, unwrapping the candy and putting it in his mouth while you sat down on the now empty chair.

He closed his eyes as soon as the chocolate touched his tongue, leaning back and sighing blissfully – but just loudly enough so you’d know how much he had missed the taste – in a way that made you look down and swallow heavily, your nails digging into the soft material of the chair.

“This is heaven,” he spoke up after a moment and you didn’t dare to tell him that it wasn’t the candy that was heavenly but rather the sight of him enjoying it so much. “It completely makes up for you abandoning me when I was dying.”

You groaned but Jungkook saw the small smile that managed to make its way to your lips. “You weren’t dying. Why are you being so dramatic?”

“Because I need pity,” he confessed, making it all sound like a joke even though you had a feeling there was more than just a pinch of truth in his words. “None of my friends came to see me. Looks like I really fucked up this time, huh?”

That surprised you. “What do you mean? They went with you when they took you to the hospital.”

“No, I don’t mean my members,” he shook his head, “they were here this morning but I made them go home and clean. I meant my other friends.”

“Oh,” you looked down, unsure if you were in any position to comfort him. “Maybe they’re busy?”

“Please,” he scoffed, unwrapping another chocolate, “it’s Saturday. They may be hungover but they’re definitely not busy.”

“Well, in that case,” you said, “maybe they’re not really your friends.”

“Yeah, I came to that conclusion, too,” he said, toying with the candy instead of putting it in his mouth. Bits of chocolate stuck to his warm fingertips and he licked them off before turning to look at you only to catch you watching him. You looked away when your eyes met, though, so you didn’t get to see the pleased grin that appeared on his face. “So, what are you up to? I thought your schedule was full until graduation?”

You smiled, recalling your words at his party.

“Your drunk-driving incident made me push some things around,” you played along, not missing the chance to scold him. Jungkook just rolled his eyes and popped the chocolate into his mouth. “So, you should consider yourself special.”

“I definitely do,” he said, putting the wrappers down on the cupboard next to his bed. “It’s weird to see you like this. I don’t mean here, but just… not in a hurry, you know? I thought you had classes every day of the week, weekends included.”

You had no idea he ever gave your schedule any thought – and hearing that he did made your stomach twist in ways you’d rather it didn’t – so you weren’t prepared for this. Taking your silence as uncomfortable, Jungkook tried to ease into the conversation differently.

“Are you still thinking of owning your own business?” he asked.

He remembered that and suddenly it was like your stomach had decided to tear itself into two.

“Sure,” you said with an awkward chuckle. “It’s definitely still one of the few things I’d like to do after graduation.”

“Good,” Jungkook said simply and, thus, reminded you of how long it’s been since you had last talked. Usually, whenever the topic would turn to you, wanting to own a business of your own, he’d always say, ‘you’re so bossy, so it would suit you.’ Now, however, he added a very considerate, “I know you’ll get to do it. You’re the kind of person that makes her dreams come true.”

Lowering your eyes – because you’d found that praise was hard to accept when it came from someone you were close to but it was even harder when it came from someone whom you used to be close to – you mumbled, “thanks.”

“It’s just the truth,” Jungkook replied with a shrug of his shoulders – it was an attempt to make you feel less awkward. He could see the way your whole body tensed up as soon as he mentioned how weird it was to see you.

“So, what about you?” you asked, turning the spotlight away from yourself. “Do you still want to be a worldwide famous superstar?”

He laughed, his childhood dream sounding ridiculous now. “No. I’m fine where I am right now.”

You smiled but your mind returned to the conversation you’d overheard before you came here.

Slowly, so as not to pour salt on an undoubtedly fresh wound, you asked, “what about the, uh, family company?”

Jungkook sighed. Not because he was angry at you for asking this question, but rather because it was a very natural question to ask, so – naturally – everyone around him always brought it up.

“What about it?” he asked you.

“Well, it’s a family business,” you shrugged, not wanting to put any extra pressure on him. “Your parents were always sort of prepping you for it.”

“Yeah,” he wasn’t looking at you anymore as his eyes settled on the corner of his hospital room. “They’re changing their minds about that.”

Feeling like you were committing a crime by sitting here and acting like you hadn’t just heard him talk to his dad about this, you proceeded nevertheless.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I mean… well, my mom definitely wants me to take over the business one day,” he said and, just like you remembered, his voice softened when he spoke about her, “she’s constantly talking about how proud of me she is – but you know my mom,” he paused to give you a knowing look and waited until you nodded before he continued, “she always had a lot of love to give so she wanted to have a lot of kids and, after that didn’t work out, she focused all of her love on me.”

“Yes, go ahead and blame your mother as the reason why you’re spoiled,” you teased.

“It’s the truth!” he insisted with an unexpected smile. “Anyway, she always wanted me to work in the company and—”

“What about you?” you cut him off.

Already lost in whatever he was going to say to you, Jungkook didn’t catch your question. “Hmm?”

“What do you want?” you asked again.

“I…” he considered this for a moment, not quite used to being asked about his own wishes when he lived in a family that essentially decided everything for him, “I guess I just don’t want to let her down,” he said finally. “My dad, however… he—well, let’s just say he doesn’t really think I’d make a suitable employee, let alone a CEO.”

Unable to resist it, you bit, “hmm, I wonder what could have lead him to feel that way.”

“I know, I know, there’s no need to sound so condescending,” he rolled his eyes – in that same bratty way that you remembered; no one could ever tell this boy anything without him getting offended – and then sighed. “I haven’t been the ideal son.”

It was hard not to allow your memories to overwhelm you – because of how many times you’d been in this same position before: finding Jungkook cooped away somewhere after an argument with his father and trying to cheer him up with his favorite chocolates – but you tried to focus on the present.

“I’m sure you’re trying your best,” you ended up telling him because that was something you were supposed to tell someone who was having a hard time.

Jungkook chuckled at the optimistic statement.

“Not really,” he said then, “I’m not trying at all. I’ve just been doing whatever I want to do and, I don’t know, I guess I wasn’t really thinking of the consequences. Or, rather, I didn’t care about them because—well, because I was satisfied with my life,” he continued to talk and you were starting to feel your pulse in your throat because it’s been seven years – seven fucking years – since you’ve heard him confess something so personal and it was almost suffocating, “but then my dad—oh, you should have heard him today. It was one of the more severe variations of the Jeon Concerto in A Major.”

The comparison got you to smile despite the seriousness of the conversation. “It was that bad?”

“Worse,” Jungkook assured you. “He kept going at it for hours. Actually, he left, like, two minutes before you came in, so my head is still sort of pounding.”

You knew that, of course, but you didn’t say so.

“Are you sure it’s not from the hangover?” you asked instead.

He took the jab with dignity, smiling as he nodded, “that, too.”

Gathering his thoughts for a moment – as he played with the frayed edges of the hospital blanket – Jungkook stayed silent and, when he started to speak again, his voice made it clear how desperately he was trying to make light of a situation that had clearly wounded him much more than the accident last night had.

“My dad, uh—he told me to suck it up and get my shit together,” he said. “And that’s almost a direct quote, by the way. I think he’s been holding it in for a while now and today he just exploded.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t given him reasons to yell at you before,” you said.

“Oh, no I’ve given him plenty of reasons,” Jungkook said, “you know he’s not one to refuse a good yell. I just didn’t give him any opportunities,” he stopped and, just when you began to frown in confusion, he explained himself, “I… I moved out of my parents’ house in my junior year of high school and I’ve only been home a handful of times since then.”

It hurt to hear that for some reason. You hadn’t heard much about him ever since he stopped talking to you in the ninth grade but you figured that was just your mom filtering out any information about Jungkook that she learned from his mom. You had no idea that it was really because Jungkook was deliberately distancing himself from his whole family, not just from you.

It hurt because you were once best friends and then you went seven years without speaking to one another only to end up talking again in a hospital room.

It hurt because of how easily the two of you returned to your natural rhythm, how simply you recognized each other’s facial expressions, how normal this felt.

“What about your mom?” you asked in a croaked voice. Your throat was closing up and there was no concealing that. “Doesn’t she miss you?”

If Jungkook noticed the ball in your throat, he didn’t make it known.

“She probably does but she’s never said anything. I think she understands that I had no other choice,” he said instead. “I’d have gone insane in that house with my dad. You know we never spoke the same language.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “but maybe it’s because neither one of you ever tried to understand the other.”

“Maybe,” he sighed, laying back down on the bed and shuffling around under the blanket until he got comfortable, “probably.”

“That’s a good place to start, isn’t it?” you said, your tone far too hopeful and optimistic – all because you were trying to refrain from getting emotional. “To get your life together, I mean.”

“What?” he turned his head on the pillow so he could face you. You looked down immediately. “You mean, listen to my dad and obey him blindly?”

“No—well, not necessarily. Just… talk to your parents more,” you shrugged, “find a way to communicate with them both and let them know what’s going on in your life. I think you really hurt them by disappearing on them like that and then resurfacing again in the hospital.”

You lied. You didn’t think. You were sure. Because he didn’t just hurt them, he hurt you, too.

Your first conversation in seven years ended with him drunkenly crashing his car into a tree trunk – or was it a lamp post that he didn’t notice? – and now you had to clutch the seat of the chair you were sitting on with all of your might so you wouldn’t start crying. You couldn’t even understand why your eyes were getting watery but they were and you really needed him to look away.

“Hmm, I—I didn’t really think of it like that,” Jungkook admitted and – mercifully – looked back up at the ceiling.

Sniffling as quietly as you could, you added another teasing dig, “maybe also consider drinking less.”

“Yeah, no, funnily enough, I figured I’d have to do that myself,” he replied and you snickered, only daring to look up again when you were sure your tears, that had rushed to the surface, finally receded.

“Good to know you do have a functioning brain despite making it seem like you didn’t last night,” you told him – because you had to – and he glared at you instead of replying, but he did hear what you were saying. He understood.

You wanted to properly lecture him about his reckless behavior but right now you weren’t in the best position to explain your aggressive need for him to start thinking before he acted – and, technically, you had no reason to care about him that much, anyway – so, you took a deep breath, blinked several times to make sure you really weren’t going to start crying, and then started to speak.

“I hope that… uh, no matter what you decide to do and however you choose to handle this thing with your parents,” you swallowed and the words were unexpectedly hard to say, “I hope that you don’t get behind the wheel of a car while drunk again.”

Jungkook looked at you for a long time before speaking and you lost yourself in his eyes like you had done countless of times before. And how could you not when you were faced with his already legendary gaze; the one that controlled entire crowds at Parental Advisory gigs?

You couldn’t see your reflection so you didn’t know, but Jungkook had noticed the redness of your eyes. He noticed the slight puffiness that appeared on your cheeks. He’s seen you cry before, he knew all the signs.

But he was also aware of the gap in your friendship and the tightrope that the two of you were walking over it – he didn’t dare to bring your crying up and risk throwing both of you down into the pit of not-talking again.

“I won’t,” he said instead, his voice gentle. “I promise.”

As he said this, you realized that, perhaps the reason why you felt like crying was because you knew that the second you’d walk out of his hospital room, the two of you would go back to your seven-year-long silence.

Even though you’d had no problems reconnecting today, it was just one day. It would end tomorrow and, eventually, the connection that you’d had and the friendship that you’d developed as kids, would turn into a distant memory. You’d return to your world and he’d return to his and, even though you both lived on the same campus, you might as well have lived on two different planets.

But, even though that hurt, perhaps it was for the best. It was painfully pointless to carry hopes of a restored friendship when it was almost doomed to end eventually. He’d stopped talking to you once, he could do it once more.

So, you wanted to cry now and then put this weekend-from-hell behind you, so you wouldn’t have to cry later, after losing Jungkook again.

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#bts #bts fanfiction #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts reactions #bts imagines #bts scenarios #college au #bts college au #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #jeon jungkook fanfiction #bts angst #bts fluff

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burlesque-articulation · 4 years

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Alright, I pulled out my corkboard and red string again, this time in hopes of dissecting the MAG timeline to see if there is anything there to support my fan theory of:

~Could Jurgen Leitner be Martin’s Dad~

And so far, signs point to a solid "it could be possible”. So in lieu of this, I will be presenting all my evidence with exceptional bias so it better illustrates my desired outcome. Okay? Okay! Let’s get into it.

Let’s begin with 1985, when Jurgen Leitner supposedly begins renting an office in Pall Mall, central London. Presumably this is just where he sets up an office, and not the actual location of the Library, which isn’t something we get-- anyways, getting sidetracked, uhhh.

Right, we know, vaguely, that Martin was born in 1987, two years after Leitner would have set up shop in Central London; and interestingly enough, in that same year of Martin’s birth, Leitner attempted to hire some people to dig a big ol’ hole in the floor of his office to lead into the tunnels built beneath the building. And this could just be wishful thinking, but I believe it is implied that these tunnels connect to the other tunnels of Millbank Prison. Interconnected, and with many exits leading to various parts of the city. Basically, a needlessly intricate means of escape (I guess balconies and back doors just didn’t exist yet, you know) should shit get real. Anyways, the point I’m trying to make, is that it would make sense for Leitner to suddenly be very interested in having direct access to these tunnels from his main office after receiving news that he’s a father, or whatever. Or maybe it’s just because he’s always been a loser that loves vibing in tunnels.

[Obligatory readmore, because this shit gets long, and even more ramble-y. Also I’m not sorry, because y’all are more than welcome to continue scrolling past this mess]

Alright, now fast-forward to 1994, the destruction of the Library. At this point in time, Martin would have been 7. Now hold up! According to the Magnus Archives Wiki, Martin’s father abandoned the family when he was 8 or 9; so isn’t that a whole in the theory right there? No. It’s not. Because the only thing that is implied about Leitner around 1994, is that he went into hiding after the destruction of the Library. At no point is it implied that he even left the country (or even London, but like, I refuse to believe he’s that stupid; even if that alternative is hilarious). To set up my point, I’m going to shift the focus onto Martin now, and what his life might have been like when he was younger.

So, by present events (present actually referring to like, pre-season 4, actually), Martin’s mother is in a care home in Devon. Could be because care homes are cheaper there, or something, I have no idea. Honestly people in my family don’t live long enough to ever even consider this option, so I don’t know how assisted living works at all lmao. But let’s say, for simplicities sake, that Martin actually just grew up around Devon; and I’m throwing a dart at a map and declaring Plymouth as the city he grew up in. Anyways, why does this matter? Because I do in fact believe that Leitner is stupid enough to think that changing which county he lives in counts as being in hiding. And he gets maybe one (1) good summer with his family before the weight of his sins bare down on him, and he realizes that staying in one place really isn’t an option. So maybe he tries travelling around a bit; but inevitably he always ends up coming back to Plymouth. It takes him a year, maybe two, to finally realize that this won’t work forever. His habits are too predictable, and what’s this? The mother of his child is getting sick; and her condition only seems to worsen over time (you know, like how it usually works when someone is taken ill.); and Leitner gets it into his head that he could be the cause of it; so what is the safest course of action, but to completely abandon his family? Surely things will turn out for the better for them all if he were to just... disappear. To cut ties entirely, so as to make sure no one ever comes after them in an attempt to get to him.

And that worked out fucking great, didn’t it.

Bunch of unimportant stuff happens, and eventually Martin ends up dropping out of school, presumably only a year early from graduation (weird but fine); and it’s safe to assume he eventually ends up traveling to London in hopes of better job opportunities. Plus, if he’s gonna be lying on his CV, probably better to head out of county to some place where no one knows him from anywhere to begin with, right? That makes sense, and none of you can say otherwise.

And where does he find himself sliding into a new job position? Oh, that’s right; at the Magnus Institute. In the Library. I’m just saying. I am just saying, that’s a little interesting. I mean, he lied about having a degree in parapsychology on his CV; so if Bouchard really wanted to play along like he thought the CV was entirely legit, it actually would’ve made more sense to put him in Research, or even in Artefact Storage with a degree like that. But nope, Bouchard put him in the Library. Though, I guess we don’t know exactly what all might’ve been on Martin’s faked CV. But I swear to god, if we get bonus content that’s just Martin’s faked CV and it even hints at him working at a “family library/bookshop” I will spontaneously combust.

Regardless, in 2009, supposedly (according to the wiki), Martin began working at the Institute. Personally, I always thought he started working there in 2010, but that doesn’t matter. I actually like 2009 better, because then a year later, Leitner apparently begins working with Gertrude Robinson. Which I find interesting. I mean, really there’s no reason for them not to work together, I just find the timing of it interesting. Of course, Leitner (in MAG80) alludes to the fact that Gertrude was likely only working with him because there was a lack of anyone else around. But that really only explains Gertrude’s interest in Leitner. What attracted Leitner to the Magnus Institute in the first place, I wonder? Aside from the fact that it’s essentially the Library of Alexandria of research on the Entities.

But Leitner had managed to stay out of public eye for about 16 years, why would he chose right around then to start playing peekaboo with the Beholding? Rhetorical question, of course. Y’all should already know exactly where I’m going with this line of questioning. Martin. Martin is what lead Leitner to the Institute, and to Gertrude. Dude just wanted to check up on his son, and now he’s just as trapped as everyone who works for the damn Institute because of all these weird rituals and shit. Plus maybe there was another reason why Leitner went through so much effort to help Gertrude, even putting himself on the line for it; and I think we can all agree that Leitner is a pretty selfish dude who’s only real character trait is being like a fucking cockroach. Straight up, the only way to kill a cockroach is to beat those suckers until they pop like a fucking pimple-- sorry, I’m actually getting ahead of myself, I don’t want to talk about that yet, um.

Leitner’s biggest character trait, and on some level, character flaw, is his Self-Preservation instinct. When the going gets tough, his own health and safety comes first. But maybe he gets a bit sentimental in his old age, and maybe he struck a deal with Gertrude; if he helps her stop the Unknowing, (or actually I think it would’ve been the Dark’s ritual first), she will bring his son down to the tunnels so Leitner can see how he’s grown, and maybe even talk to him. I just think that would be interesting character motivation; because at the end of the day, it’s still a pretty selfish motivation. But at this point, Gertrude’s only other option for help is a teenaged Shadow the Hedgehog wannabe; so she’d likely agree to just about anything for the extra pair of hands. And given what later happens in regards to the Dark’s ritual, which then results in Gertrude’s death; Leitner gets scared back into his hole in the ground.

But hey, I guess things actually kind of worked out for ol’ Jurgen. Because like a year later, his son* (*allegedly, according to apparently no one but me) starts living in the Archives. It’s like he’s living in his son’s basement, he can just pop up for tea and say hi whenever. Maybe complain about all the bugs that keep crawling around. Or not, because Jürgen Leitner is a coward. But I 100% would not put it past him to shuffle his old bones up into the Archives to stand creepily at the edge of wherever Martin was sleeping and angst quietly at the sight of his son. It’s creepy, funny, and sad. Basically a peak TMA scenario right there.

Then Leitner gets brutally piped by Bouchard. Actually, can I say it like that? “Piped” isn’t some kind of... new-age slang for something, is it? God, I hope not. Anyways; Leitner isn’t just beat upside the head with a length of pipe, but literally pulped by Bouchard (or at the very least implied so), in a way that makes identifying the guy difficult enough that he remains a John Doe straight up until Elias confesses to the murder. Now, obviously there are plenty of reasons for this; given that both Daisy and Basira are familiar with the name Leitner, so presumably other sectioned officers would be as well; so there was at least a slim chance that whatever officer got sent to the Institute upon the discovery of the body might just recognize Leitner immediately. But, and sorry to sidetrack here, but there was just one thing that really stood out to me about Martin. One thing that always stuck with me, that for some reason was the main thing that made me thing Leitner could’ve been his dad.

Martin looks like his father, whoever that may or may not be. It is explicitly canon, that Martin looks like whoever his dad is. So wouldn’t it be better safe than sorry for Bouchard to beat Leitner to a pulp wherein no one could easily discern any major features of him once he was found. After all, it would make things rather messy and a bit too complicated if everyone who saw the body was like, “wow! That looks just like you, Martin.” So really, it’s for the best that not only did Bouchard kill Leitner, but he thoroughly did so.

And so, I will end this already way to long of a ramble with the one thing that solidified me on this theory, and Spoilers for Season 5 of MAG, but... In MAG181 Salesa says, “Now you mention it, you actually remind me of Jurgen a bit. In his younger days of course.” to Martin. Of course, Martin did just shoot out a snappy one-liner about books, but... it’s the clarification of Jurgen “in his younger days”, that gets me. Mikaele could just have easily said something about Martin just “sounding” like Leitner. But the way this reads, and how it’s spoken, even, it seems more like someone that might’ve been looking at Martin for awhile, squinting at him as if he’s seen that face somewhere before, and then right when Martin mentions books, it finally clicks. After all, it would’ve been almost 20 years, or possibly more, since Salesa would have left Leitner’s employ.

So yeah, I admit this theory has a much weaker backbone then my Banks/Folger post, but... I just think it’s neat. And it’s another one of those things that actually doesn’t have any affect on the major plot whatsoever. I dunno, maybe it was meant to be some sort of subplot early on that got ditched or something? Point is, that’s all for now, and with any luck, I will never post another crack theory again, and the TMA tag can be safe from my ramblings once more.

#burl posts #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #tma fan theory #martin blackwood #jurgen leitner #no editing; we post rough drafts like idiots #also i didn't actually write this with nearly as much bias as I intended too #i'm too facts-based; and the moment i try saying something that isn't absolutely factual #i'm too quick to add a ''this is only alleged we have no canon proof''#did the same thing with my last redstring theory #i actually think i might start calling my tma theories ''pink-string nonsense'' because it's less #red string means; IT HAS TO BE TRUE IT DEFINITELY MAKES SENSE #whereas pink string is more; IT COULD BE TRUE BUT REALLY I THINK IT WOULD JUST BE NICE/COOL

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writingfromkitchenator · 3 years

Text

The Demon, The Hunter, and The Halfblood

Hi everyone! Welcome to my latest Crowley project (despite the fact I have several unfinished). This fic is a little experiment on my part as I’m playing with essentially two timelines told throughout the story, so I hope it works/makes sense. I’m having a blast writing it, as I always do with Crowley, but there’s just something special about the two female characters I’ve added in (I love it so much!). These will be posted every Friday. I hope you can all enjoy this too!

Masterlist

Crowley x Original Female Character

Series Warnings: A/B/O series, some Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha x Omega, obligatory smut warning here (as usual, no under 18′s please, specifics will be within chapter warnings as needed), violence, blood, fluff, angst, major character death, possession, swearing

Chapter 1

Words: 1,903

“No,” Crowley said hotly, glaring at the three men in front of him, his foot just before the edge of the devils trap. “You really think I’m going to give you lot anything when you’ve trapped me in this? In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever given anything so willingly?”

“We’re past the point of asking anything Crowley,” Dean snapped. “We’re telling. You’re not going anywhere until you do. You’ve put this off for far too long.”

Crowley snorted. “Is that so? And just exactly what leverage do you have to be able to even think about trying that?”

Sam was watching him though, watching the unease hidden beneath the annoyance, and he knew that something different was going on, something was making him very uncomfortable. “We can keep you here for as long as we need to.”

His assumption was correct when Crowley flinched slightly, quickly covered by a scowl. “What? Not worried about Hell falling apart while I’m not there?”

“No.” Dean and Bobby said together.

“If you just give us an answer Crowley, you can be on your way.” Sam said, ignoring the surprised looks from the other two. “You have to know something, you always know something.”

“Because I’ve actually got brains on what I do with that information Moose,” Crowley snarled, rolling his eyes. “And the last thing I’m currently going to do, is give that to you. Now, if we’re done with this little conversation, I have matters much more important-”

“We’re not done here,” Dean said. “As Sam said, we’ll leave you here for as long as we need to before you tell us what we want to know.”

The frustration was starting to show in Crowley’s expression. “Do you even realise what I have at stake here? The longer you leave me like this, the worse it gets, and frankly, I’d much rather not let it get to that point.”

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” Bobby asked. “What can be worse than running Hell?”

Crowley huffed impatiently, his eyes flashing. “That is none of your business. That is between Madelyn and I, and it’s been perfectly kept under wraps for the last four years so-”

Crowley froze and an odd silence fills the room.

“Bollocks.” He mutters under his breath, seeing their confused expressions, and he quickly straightens his suit out, brushing away some imaginary dirt. “What are the mullet expression for? I think I’ve made myself clear.”

“Madelyn?” Dean asked quietly, a quiet anger hidden in his voice. “As in our sister, my twin, Madelyn?”

“Madelyn’s dead,” Bobby said carefully, but there was pain and anger building in his expression. “Are you telling me that she’s been made a demon?”

Crowley sighed heavily, knowing that he’d messed up and there was no way out this, but still, he stayed silent, trying to hope that there was a way out of this.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean snapped, walking forward, pulling an angel blade off of his belt. “What the hell have you-”

“I haven’t,” Crowley snapped, unfazed by Dean’s approach. “And she is very much alive and well, if you really must know, still perfectly human. She is absolutely going to kill me for letting you find out.”

“Why?” Sam asked, breaking the silence from the other two, Dean and Bobby still trying to process this. “We saw her die, we burned her!”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “No, you saw and burned what I wanted you to see and burn, carefully organised by Madelyn and I. Now, if you’ll be so kind, I am well overdue to go back, or are you actually going to still ignore that?”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Dean said quickly. “Instead, you’re going to tell us where the hell she is so we can go and pick her dumb arse up.”

“I don’t think so,” Crowley clipped. “And for your information, she’s certainly smarter than any of you.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed on him. “I feel like I’m pointing out the obvious here, but why are you willingly working with a Winchester? Especially Madelyn. You two despise each other.”

The uncomfortableness in the room grew and Crowley cleared his throat a little. “That is between Madelyn and I.”

“Oh you bastard!” Sam and Bobby quickly grab Dean to pull him back. “You son of a-”

“Is that really the best insult you have?” Crowley asked tiredly. “It does get rather old.”

Sam and Bobby dragged Dean from the room, leaving Crowley more than annoyed and agitated as the door shuts behind them, starting to pace in the trap.

“Bloody bastards,” He growled, pulling his phone out of his jacket and going to Madelyn’s name, starting to type a message. “Why is it only urgent when it’s for them? It’s not like lives aren’t at stake here.”

Dumb and Dumber have found out darling and I’m a little stuck. You may have to move soon on your own.

Crowley stared at his phone and the longer he went without a reply, the more the panic began to set in. His feet carried him back and forth in the circle and he could feel tension setting in along his neck and jaw, his teeth grinding.

Surely it couldn’t be worse than he thought?

Madelyn, some sort of response would be nice?

But his phone remained obstinately silent and a cold feeling sunk low into his stomach.

“Hey!” He called loudly, not bothering to hide the note of panic in his voice, just wanting to get this sorted and quickly. “If you idiots are done, I really need to go! Something is wrong!”

It was Sam that answered the door, eyeing Crowley with an odd suspicion. “What is wrong?”

“None of your business,” Crowley snapped. “But you need to let me go so I can go and sort it out!”

“No,” Sam said, shaking his head. “You’re going to tell us where Maddie is and we’re going to go and get her. This doesn’t need to concern you any further Crowley. This is our family and we’ll deal with it.”

Crowley was a little glad that he was trapped in circle, otherwise there wouldn’t currently be much left of Sam. “Your sister’s life is in danger, is that not enough for you? I’m the only one that can get there quick enough to intervene with whatever is going on. Be reasonable!”

Sam stared at him for a long moment, a small look of confusion coming to him as he observed him. “Then let us handle it, it may even give Dean enough time to calm down. After all you’ve done, that’s reasonable enough.”

Crowley’s phone turned over and over in his hand, still remaining silent, and he knew that he was quickly running out of options. “Look, I’ve never asked you boys for much,” He ignored Sam’s raised eyebrow. “But give me this. Please.”

“You know I can’t do that Crowley,” Sam said. “Now, we can keep going around in circles or you can give me that address.”

Crowley hated it all, hated it with every fibre of his being, and he silently swore that he’d get the three of them back for this, especially if, and his silent phone and gut was telling him so, something had happened. They just weren’t going to understand.

Angrily, he told Sam the address and then went silent, refusing to say anything else until he knew what was happening with Madelyn.

“Are you going to be right here Bobby?” Sam asked as he and Dean jumped into the Impala.

“Did you forget who built that?” Bobby asked. “You boys just go and make sure that your sister is okay. I can deal with whatever Crowley has planned, if anything.”

It was clear as they drove that Dean was still furious, Sam often casting him a glance but it was some time before he was game enough to break the silence.

“So, who are you angry at more?” Sam asked as calmly as he could.

Dean let out a huff. “Honestly, both of them.” Sam waited and Dean eventually snapped again. “Madelyn had no right to fake her death and Crowley certainly had no bloody right to keep it from us, no matter what the hell was going on. If he’s so much as laid any sort of finger on her then I’m going to be back here sooner than he make any sort of annoying arse comment and beat his arse in!”

Sam grimaced, having a growing, sinking feeling that he knew what was going on, but deciding it was better to lie to Dean when he was like this. “I’m sure it’s nothing like that.”

There was no missing the side long glance from Dean. “Don’t pull that Beta shit on me Sam, Madelyn’s crossed the line now. We may have done some stupid shit to each other, but this takes the cake man, it really does.”

Sighing, Sam shakes his head. “All I’m saying Dean, is that there’s no point in going Alpha until we know what’s going on. Madelyn’s never been the simple Omega type, we’ve known that all her life, and she’s hardly going to take any shit from Crowley, whatever he’s got over her.”

Dean growled. “Right.”

“Dean-”

“Just drop it Sam,” Dean said. “Let’s get there and find out what’s going on from her.”

Sam sighs and gives a small laugh. “Right. She’s always the talkative type.”

When they pulled up outside a house several hours later, Dean’s mood worsened, getting out of the Impala and slamming the door, uncaring of what attention he drew. “Maddie!”

Silence greeted the two of them and Sam just rolled his eyes at Dean as he hurried up the front steps ahead of him, banging on the door. “Madelyn!”

As Sam walked up the steps as well, Dean peaked through the glass on the side of the door. Almost instantly his gun was in his hand.

“What is it?” Sam asked, drawing his own gun.

“The house has been ransacked,” Dean said. “Do you wanna see if you can get in the back?”

They both managed to pick the locks and walk in, guns raised, but apart from the ticking of a clock and their own footsteps, the house was empty and quiet.

“Shit,” Dean said. “What the hell is going on?”

“Let’s check upstairs,” Sam said, taking the lead, glass crunching under his feet, trying to ignore the mass of broken items and furniture, his heart racing a little. “Maybe whoever was here left something behind?”

“Or hopefully Maddie did.” Dean said following. “Something is not right here Sam.”

“I hate to say Crowley warned us,” Sam said. “But-”

“Don’t finish that sentence man,” Dean said, pushing past Sam to check the other end of the hallway. “I’m already dreading telling him that Maddie is-”

Dean goes silent for a moment as he opens the last door, whatever he was seeing sinking in. Sam’s about to ask what was going on when-

“Son of bitch!” Dean spat, fury in voice. “I’m going to kill both of them!”

Sam frowns, reaching Dean and looking over his shoulder to see what was getting him so angry. His stomach sunk when he saw the pinks, purples and blues that filled the room, a pile of soft toys in the corner, and a bed that had all but been torn apart.

“Ah.”

#supernatural #the demon the hunter and the halfblood #crowley #crowley x original female character #long fic #fic series #crowley fridays #sister winchester #alpha x omega #a/b/o

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snowdice · 4 years

Text

Food You’ll Never Eat (Part 3 of the Series “Is There Anything Left of Patton?”

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Virgil & Patton (?) Virgil & Logan, Logan/Patton(?)

Characters: Virgil, Patton(?), Logan

Summary: And was this cruel, Virgil had to wonder, to the man that Patton used to be? To the men they both used to be? To drag what was left of Patton back into the world of the living? To tie him down to the couch he once picked out himself? To let him look blankly out the window into a world he’d never be a part of again? Virgil was not sure. He just knew that usually when Logan and Patton were in the same room together, Virgil could feel the heartbreak and mourning drowning them all.

This though? This was almost, almost, funny.

Notes: Zombie Apocalypse AU, Past major character death(?), Look it’s a zombie AU so you can probably guess why there’s a question mark after everything involving Patton. Angst. It’s a little funnier than the last two parts?? Maybe? Zombie Patton is a little funny if you forget the whole horrifying painful death that caused it. Logan still cries of course.

The third part of a series of one-shots called Is There Anything Left of Patton?

Previous parts:

“Something Left”

“Someone You’ll Never Meet”

Convincing Logan to bring Patton upstairs had been frustratingly difficult considering how badly Logan clearly wanted it. It had not been helped by the fact that Virgil had snuck around behind his back to do something “objectively stupid.” (Hypocritical considering how Logan had snuck around behind his back for months and went into the cage many times to do said “objectively stupid” thing himself. But, you know. Whatever.)

“I tested it with a rat first,” Virgil had defended himself, shaking the cage he’d been holding, “Luckily for Nibbles, Patton isn’t interested in live meat.”

“Luckily for you,” had been the retort.

It had led to a series of arguments over the next couple of weeks with interactions such as…

“Why would you even want to do that?”

“I wanted to know. Sue me for wanting to be aware if there was ticking time bomb in the basement that could come and bite me in the ass at any moment. Literally.”

and…

“Well, I’ve kinda grown to like Patton.”

“Patton’s a zombie! He might as well be that chair.”

“Look I’m not going to listen to a lecture on my attachment issues by a guy who keeps his dead boyfriend’s corpse in his basement.”

and…

“He might be more comfortable up here.”

“Patton isn’t going to be comfortable anywhere ever again.”

“But what’s left of him might be.”

“…”

It was still a trial run. Neither of them was exactly going to sleep with Patton upstairs, and so Logan always wrestled him back downstairs at night. During the day, they didn’t let him freely roam the house; they’d finagled him what was basically a man-sized toddler leash. He… did not seem to like the leash. He tried to yank on it every time they pulled him around on it, but he never managed to think about using the simple clasp to get out of it even after he saw Virgil and Logan use it multiple times. He didn’t even seem to understand that Virgil and Logan were the source of the tugging, simply turning his ire on the belt itself.

He was all instinct. Struggle against things that pulled on you, grab for things that moved or made sound, eat things that your body wanted to eat. There was no more thought put into his actions than Virgil put into the act of breathing.

Virgil had secretly hope that brining him upstairs into what was once his home and not keeping him completely restrained all the time would make him act… he didn’t know… more human? Like, maybe there’d be a spark of recognition in his eyes when he saw his old bedroom, or he’d want to reach out for one of the stuffed animals Logan set out for him. But he just didn’t. He reacted, but only on the most basic levels. He would hear Logan or Virgil speak, but what they said made no difference. He would watch them move, sometimes getting up from the couch or chair they’d attached him to in order to follow them and then blindly swiping the leash when it pulled him back. Yet, he’d react the same way if they threw something large enough or if he caught site of an animal outside the window. He would reach and reach for them, but whatever it was his zombie brain seemed to want, he would never find it.

The only time he took any initiative was when there was food in the area and god was Virgil glad that he and Logan apparently did not register as food to the guy because holy fuck. The first time Virgil had seen him eat a potato, he’d almost thrown up. Like, the meat was one thing. He’d been prepared for the meat. It was fine, but the potato? He shuddered in memory even now. His mind could just not accept it. Also, he was also absolutely unstoppable when food was in the area. They had quickly learned to not attempt to cook or eat anything the zombie found palatable with him in reaching distance because, whatever it was, would be going into his mouth, no argument to be had.

Yet, despite it all, Virgil could not regret bringing him up here. Perhaps there was nothing of a person left under all of that instinct, but he still seemed calmer upstairs. Virgil was fairly certain it had more to do with the lack of restraints than the fact that his surroundings were nicer. While he pulled against the leash sometimes, it was easy for him to forget about it. He didn’t breathe quite as heavily or make as many sickening noises. He still tried to grab them when they were near, much like other zombies did (just without the biting), but it seemed just a touch less desperate.

Then there was Logan. Virgil felt a bit conflicted about Logan. He clearly wanted Patton upstairs, but at the same time, Virgil often caught him looking at the zombie wistfully. Logan was sadder when he was upstairs, but at least he was emoting something. He was less blank and emotionless. He tended to talk more even if those words were almost always tinged with melancholy. When Logan looked at Patton, he clearly could see that he wasn’t the man he loved anymore, but he was something.

And was this cruel, Virgil had to wonder, to the man that Patton used to be? To the men they both used to be? To drag what was left of Patton back into the world of the living? To tie him down to the couch he once picked out himself? To let him look blankly out the window into a world he’d never be a part of again? Virgil was not sure. He just knew that usually when Logan and Patton were in the same room together, Virgil could feel the heartbreak and mourning drowning them all.

This though? This was almost, almost, funny.

“What did… what did you do to my dining room?” Logan asked aghast when he walked downstairs to see what looked to be going on two dozen plates and bowls of barely touched food haphazardly stacked across the table, something red (distinctly not blood thankfully) all over Virgil and the carpet, and silverware and cups on the floor.

“Patton and I are trying different foods,” Virgil said as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “He really did not like the tomato soup.”

Logan rubbed the bridge of his nose with two fingers. “He is clearly an obligatory carnivore. What is the point of this?”

Virgil didn’t answer him. Instead, he set down yet another plate in front of Patton. Logan bristled a bit at the dismissal. “I heard your no on tomatoes loud and clear buddy,” he addressed Patton. “So, maybe we should stick with root vegetables from the oven. I present for your culinary experience, oven roasted carrots.” Patton stared straight forward, not even looking at the plate. “Please dude. I can’t take the only eating potatoes thing. I really can’t. It’s going to drive me bonkers.”

“This is completely unnecessary and ridiculous,” Logan hissed.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do with him Logan?” Virgil asked. “It’s not like we can play chess or have an invigorating conversation about the meaning of the universe.”

“You’re not supposed to do anything with him,” Logan snapped. “He’s not a person anymore. He’s not even a pet. He’s lawn furniture that can walk. He’s a fucking corpse that just isn’t in the ground yet.”

“Then why is he here Logan?”

“Because you wanted to bring him up from the basement!” Patton turned at his increased volume and stumbled to his feet to paw at Logan. Logan pushed him firmly away, but he just kept coming.

“No. If that’s what you think,” Virgil said. “then why is he here, Logan?”

“Because,” Logan shut his mouth. He grabbed Patton’s wrist in his hand to keep it from him and looked away from them both. “Because I love him,” Logan said. He squeezed the hand and got nothing in return. “Because I love him and he’s not here anymore. Sometimes I find myself pretending, but I know he’s not.” he looked up to stare into Patton’s blank eyes. There was no spark to them, and there was no emotion on the face that used to be so open and dynamic. He used to always smile and joke and offer soft touches. Now there was nothing left but the way he struggled to grab at Logan’s face. “Yet…” he continued. “There is something there. Just… just a little piece. Not nearly him, but something. I can’t… I can’t let him go.” He roughly used his unoccupied hand to wipe a tear that had leaked out of one of his eyes away. “And he’s not a toy. He may not be a person anymore, but he was once.”

“I…” Virgil said softly, “I know that Lo. I’m not playing games with him, I swear. I just thought maybe he’d like some other food. Might as well give him things he likes, right?”

Logan let out a soft sob against his will and Virgil’s arms went carefully around him even as the new sound renewed Patton’s efforts to get to him. “I would have let him kill me,” Logan divulged. “When I found him. He was trapped and I knew he wasn’t there anymore, but I let him loose because I knew I couldn’t kill him or leave him there. I couldn’t live without him.”

“Oh Logan,” Virgil sighed. Logan turned from Patton into Virgil’s chest and Virgil rubbed his back as he cried even when Patton started up the grabbing at the back of his head now that he was released. After a few moments, Logan managed to wrestled control over himself.

He stepped back and started to push Patton back toward the chair he’d been sitting in. He aimlessly shoved back. “That’s how I figured out he wouldn’t hurt me,” he told Virgil. He finally got Patton shoved back into the chair. “You’d never hurt me, would you dear?” There was no answer from Patton except to wiggle against the hold, but then again, he’d already answered that question, hadn’t he? He answered it every moment of every day that the mindless husk of himself never tried to harm Logan. He answered it right now when all he did was push against the arms restraining him and never tilted his head down to bite.

Logan knew, logically, it was probably only some kink in the code of whatever virus or parasite the disease was, but some part of him couldn’t help but think that maybe just a part of it was an echo of the man he loved.

Patton gave up the struggle to get back up eventually, more forgetting than relenting. There were a few more moments of silence and then Logan turned to Virgil and forced a small smile. “So, what are you going to try to feed him next? Just a warning, he didn’t care for tomatoes when he was alive.”

“I really wish you’d told me that before he sprayed soup everywhere.”

“How exactly did that happen?”

“I tried to spoon feed him and he must have not liked the smell or the touch of the metal on his lips because he slapped the spoon away. His arm hit the bowl too and I got surprised and knocked over some glasses.”

Logan found himself chuckling. “That’s surprisingly in character for Patton,” he said. “Once we talked about his dislike for tomatoes and he told me that he was fine with cooked ones meaning, of course, in spaghetti sauce or on pizza but hated them raw. So, I cooked him grilled whole tomatoes. He threw them at me.”

Virgil laughed with him. “Well, maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. What did he like to eat?”

Logan hummed. “He would eat dill pickles straight from the jar. I’d call him a heathen and try to take them away from him.”

“You’re the heathen; dill pickles are good.”

“Disgusting,” Logan replied. “He also had a sweet tooth. Particularly for snickerdoodle cookies.”

“Hmm,” Virgil said, “alright. So, we’ll work with the cucumber family and sugar and see where it goes.”

Patton did eat two pickles on his own power later that day. It was… not any more pleasant to watch than the potatoes.

Want to read more? The next part of this series is

Things You’ll Never Do

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality #?#adriana writes #zombie au #past major character death #angst #italop #platonic analogical #platonic moxiety #(sorta?)

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haec-est-fides · 3 years

Text

Filodox’s Trials of Apollo Reactions [Part I]

Welcome to part one of a reflective journey through Trials of Apollo ft. my original ebook annotations! I’ll be your host, 2020!filodox.

For this first episode, we’ll be going back to May 2016, the beginning of it all: The Hidden Oracle.

Annotations for this round are brought to you by 2016!filodox.

Is there anything we should know before we begin, 2016!me?

2016!filodox: I swore on the Styx never to read another Riordan book after he killed Octavian. And yet here we are.

... Alright then! Let’s get started.

But first, a more detailed overview on how this series will work: I will excerpt bits and pieces of the books based on what I highlighted / annotated on my first read. Beneath each quote, I will share what I wrote in the annotation. Below that, I will (occasionally) laugh at my past self, clarify the note, or say how my view has changed.

I encourage questions, comments, and concerns (of which there may be many), so go ahead and use that replies feature if you feel so inclined! However, these are just my opinions and (occasionally) emotional reactions, so no hate pls. <3 (Or, if you do send hate, pls make it funny.)

Now, diving right in with Riordan’s dedication!

To The Muse Calliope. This is long overdue. Please don’t hurt me.

2016!filodox: Hurt him. He didn’t even name the chapters.

As you can see, I had yet to experience Lester’s haiku and was already mad based on the table of contents alone. I went into this series very salty...

I inflicted a plague on the Greeks who besieged Troy.

2016!filodox: At least he did something right. Once.

I was just,,,extremely ready to die on Octavian’s hill. (Though I was a huge Troy / Aeneas stan before all this, just to be clear.)

Is anything sadder than the sound of a god hitting a pile of garbage bags?

2016!filodox: I actually find this particular god crashing into a dumpster quite amusing.

I also blamed Apollo for what happened to Octavian. I think that had a lot to do with how Apollo acted on Delos in Heroes of Olympus, basically disowning Octavian and whining about how some “creature” scammed him? That was bullshit. Apollo needed to own the fact that he blessed Octavian, but he just abandoned him and denied all the blame. TL;DR I had a grudge, okay?

My mind stewed in confusion, but one memory floated to the surface -- the voice of my father, Zeus: YOUR FAULT. YOUR PUNISHMENT.

2016!filodox: Wait, is this bc everyone blames Octavian and therefore Apollo? Bc lol but also no?

*cough* Octavian did nothing wrong 2k16 *cough*

Zeus will reconsider, I told myself. He’s just trying to scare me. Any moment, he will yank me back to Olympus and let me off with a warning.

“Yes...” My voice sounded hollow and desperate. “Yes, that’s it.”

2016!filodox: Apollo is a self centered frat boy, I forgot...but it is slightly...endearing? *narrows eyes*

Ah, how close I was to stanning Lester in the first chapter, when he was at his most “goddy”. You know, I actually made a rule for myself when I started reading Trials of Apollo that I would not under any circumstances stan Apollo. That was a naive goal, because it was never really a danger.

Regardless, Zeus had held me responsible for Octavian’s delusions of grandeur. Zeus seemed to consider egotism a trait the boy had inherited from me. Which is ridiculous. I am much too self-aware to be egotistical.

2016!filodox: I am going to Murder him.

*chef kiss* the hypocrisy ! the lack of self-awareness !

“I just...I assumed -- I hoped this would be taken care of by now.”

“You mean by demigods,” Percy said, “going on a big quest to reclaim the Oracle of Delphi?”

2016!filodox: That sounds like a decent quest, or you know, QUESTING FOR THE SIBYLLINE BOOKS

I’ve always said I can see the future but an inch to the left. Also, I don’t like Ella.

It warmed my heart that my children had the right priorities: their skills, their images, their views on YouTube. Say what you will about gods being absentee parents; our children inherit many of our finest personality traits.

2016!filodox: AND HE’S MAD ABOUT OCTAVIAN?!

I mean ?

Apollo, when Austin and Kayla show ambition: THEY GOT THAT FROM ME <3

Apollo, when Octavian (or Nero, or Caligula) shows ambition: srry i don’t know him ??

He had a weak jawline, an overlarge nose, and a beard that wrapped around his double chin like a helmet strap. His hair was curly and dark like mine, except not as fashionably tousled or luxuriant. His lips curled as if he smelled something unpleasant. Perhaps it was the burning seats of the bus.

2016!filodox: Nero ???

Not quite sure how to feel looking back at this moment. Call out post @ myself for instantly recognizing Nero, when afaik this scene was before we had any hints that Roman emperors were even a plot point? But here’s the thing: I don’t remember why I could recognize him so easily. I don’t remember where 2016!me obtained this ancient Rome knowledge. A mystery.

On another note entirely, did Nero really like,,,astral project into Apollo’s fever dream to address him directly? Because Rhea does. And sometimes Python does. But Nero? Can he do that?

The man laughed as flames licked at his purple sleeves. “You’re not sorry yet, but you will be. Find me the gates. Lead me to the Oracle. I’ll enjoy burning it down!”

2016!filodox: I too enjoy burning things down. # Nero confirmed

My only comment here is “oh you sweet summer child,,,”

Oh. Perhaps some of you are wondering how I felt seeing [Will] with a boyfriend rather than a girlfriend.

2016!filodox: No, actually. I wasn’t wondering. I was plotting how to kill you, them, and quite a few other people. Do you think I could trade you for Octavian?

Oh man, back at it again with the salt. XD

I could only remember my conversations with Octavian, the way he’d turned my head with his flattery and promises. That stupid boy...it was his fault I was here.

A voice whispered in the back of my mind. This time I thought it might be my conscience: Who was the stupid boy? It wasn’t Octavian.

2016!filodox: I can’t really...explain my emotions upon reading this. I’m still not quite okay, but this...it’s bittersweet in a way. I don’t know if this is a poor attempt at a proper closure, the author’s way of beating a dead horse, or just a way to make Apollo seem pitiable. Whatever it is... Octavian was important enough to remain in Apollo’s mortal memory. He somehow made promises to a god and had Apollo wrapped around his finger. And despite being so much like Apollo, the god blames him. Like everyone blames him. But Apollo also realizes, accepts on an infinitesimal scale, that “it wasn’t Octavian”. He wasn’t perfect, but neither is Apollo. Apollo is (at least) subconsciously admitting his own guilt in the whole affair.

...yeah. I will note that this bit isn’t meant to develop Octavian, but rather uses Octavian as a prop to support Apollo’s development? Which is why it still stings. Like thanks, I guess.

“Your judgement in the past has been...questionable. I wonder if you have chosen the right tools for this job. Have you learned from your past mistakes?”

2016!filodox: Nero has made plenty of mistakes to learn from

Love how I just assumed it was Nero back in chapter 10 and went with it, zero hesitation. Also love how I heard Python say Nero has made mistakes and went “oh absolutely”. In fact, here’s something funny in retrospect that will become more and more apparent: I did not like Nero in 2016. Or, at least, I thought I didn’t. There’s something really odd going on here that baffles me, looking back...

“A triumvirate is a ruling council of three,” I said. “At least, that’s what it meant in ancient Rome.”

“Which is interesting,” Rachel said, “because of this next shot.” She tapped her screen. The new photo zoomed in on the building’s penthouse terrace, where three shadowy figures stood talking together....

2016!filodox: Is it bad that I’m smirking? Because it’s getting interesting ~ *clear malicious intent*

Wow, edgy. Triumvirates are just a neat, Roman thing and I stanned.

“The last triumvirate I dealt with included Lepidus, Marc Antony, and my son, the original Octavian. A triumvirate is a very Roman concept...like patriotism, skullduggery, and assassination.”

2016!filodox: THIS IS WHAT I’VE BEEN TRYING TO TELL EVERYONE. MODERN OCTAVIAN IS A VERY GOOD ANCIENT ROMAN. POLITICS, ESPECIALLY SHADY AF POLITICS AND POWERPLAYS, ARE QUINTESSENTIALLY ROMAN. Also, I’d like to note that it’s confirmed, in this universe’s canon, that Augustus was a son of Apollo.

Ohhhh, wait. I think I’d watched the HBO series Rome by 2016, which would at least partially explain my ancient Rome knowledge. (Amazing tv show btw!)

“He heard them talking in Latin.”

“Latin? Were they campers?”

Pete spread his hands. “I--I don’t think so. Paulie described them like they were adults. He said one of them was the leader. The other two addressed him as imperator.”

2016!filodox: !!!! (obligatory 💕)

I was such a simp for Latin in high school. And the Roman Empire. Still am, but hey.

“The Beast is planning some kind of attack on your camp. I don’t know what it is, but it’s going to be big.”

2016!filodox: Runs in the family I guess

The Octavian / Triumvirate parallels are everywhere... 👀

“The emperors made themselves gods. They had their own temples and altars. They encouraged the people to worship them.”

2016!filodox: # deify me

*smacking my past self with a stick* You stop that! Edgy child!

Anyway, a much better point here is like,,,the Imperial cult was huge in the ancient Roman world. Looking at Apollo’s explanation here, why did only the “worst” three emperors get to be immortal? Did famously “good” emperors like Augustus and Marcus Aurelius have the option of becoming minor gods, but they chose Elysium or something? Are there slightly less infamous emperors just hanging around anywhere as minor gods? A lot of Roman emperors live on in human memory is all I’m saying.

“Wait!” Will said as I reached the door. “Who is the Beast? Which emperor are we dealing with?”

“The worst of my descendants.” My fingers dug into the doorframe. “The Christians called him the Beast because he burned them alive. Our enemy is Emperor Nero.”

2016!filodox: I honestly can’t believe it took this long to reveal this? Was anyone surprised?

Nero’s reveal is rather late in the book compared to Commodus, Caligula, and even Tarquin iirc? But it makes sense, being the first book of the series. Also love how 16-year-old me was like “this reveal is silly because everyone, like me, recognizes Nero on sight” and didn’t question that assumption at all.

“Germani.” Instinctively, I moved in front of Meg. The elite imperial bodyguards had been cold-blooded death reapers in ancient Rome. I doubted they’d gotten any sweeter over the centuries.

2016!filodox: BITCH. See? This is why I love Rome. They knew what they were doing.

Ngl, as someone of Germanic heritage, I felt really represented by the Germani, which is hilarious on so many levels.

He tried to compensate for his ugliness with an expensive Italian suit of purple wool, his gray shirt open to display gold chains. His shoes were hand-tooled leather, not the sort of thing to wear while stomping around in an ant pile. Then again, Nero had always had expensive, impractical tastes.

2016!filodox: I don’t exactly like Nero, and actually think he was quite the shitty emperor, but I guess I mildly respect and “like” him on principle (in this book at least).

OH YOU SWEET SUMMER CHILD. I was so convinced that I didn’t actually like Nero, despite all of the lowkey evidence to the contrary? Who hurt you, past me? (Lmao, it was Tacitus, Suetonius, and Cassius Dio.) My working theory is that I was too much of an Emperor Augustus stan at the time to admit liking Nero. It’s hysterical. Look at me equivocating like a champ.

I’d been so proud of my son, the original Octavian, later Caesar Augustus. After his death, his descendants became increasingly arrogant and unstable (which I blamed on their mortal DNA; they certainly didn’t get those qualities from me).

2016!filodox: I’m glad Apollo and I can agree on something. Augustus was amazing and those who came after him...significantly less so.

See! The propaganda really got to me, what can I say?

Nero clasped his hands as if in prayer. “Oh, my. It seems we’ve had a slight miscommunication. You see, Apollo, Meg brought you here, just as I asked her to. Well done, my sweet.”

2016!filodox: This was obvious but I still find it...gods, the only word I can think of is “delicious”

. . .

“The Beast killed my father. This is Nero. He’s -- he’s my stepfather.”

I could not fully grasp this before Nero spread his arms.

“That’s right, my darling,” he said. “And you’ve done a wonderful job. Come to Papa.”

2016!filodox: Okay, but we should have known this since it became apparent her weapons were Roman. Also, oof. Also also, WHY did Riordan feel the need to add that last line? Why?

ASDFGHJKL: I CAN’T

“After the fire, we’ll rebuild,” he said. “It will be glorious!”

2016!filodox: The amount of times I have used this very logic is worrying.

For (some) context, Firelord Ozai is my favorite character from AtLA. <3

The scene might have been funny except that the Germani were now back on their feet, five demigods and a geyser spirit were still tied to highly flammable posts, and Nero still had a box of matches.

2016!filodox: Oh, I find this plenty amusing!

The emperor stared at his empty hand. “Meg...?” His voice was as cold as an icicle.

2016!filodox: The various ways his tone / voice have been described throughout this conversation are just 💕

*looks at camera like I’m on The Office*

Seriously, though. Nero’s voice is like the central descriptive element of his character because he’s so manipulative. It’s really cool and a great use of detail.

[Meg] turned to Nero. “You told me never to lower myself to my enemies’ level.”

“No, indeed.” Nero’s tone had frayed like a weathered rope. “We are better. We are stronger. We will build a glorious new world. But these nonsense-spewing trees stand in our way, Meg. Like any invasive weeds, they must be burned. And the only way to do that is with a true conflagration -- flames stoked by blood.”

2016!filodox: Real 👏🏻 Gods 👏🏻 Require 👏🏻 Blood👏🏻

I was way too enthusiastic about this whole situation, wasn’t I?

Nero grinned. “Good-bye, Apollo. Only eleven more Olympians to go.”

2016!filodox: Wait, shit, WHAT

Having read Tower of Nero, this probably had something to do with Python interfering with the Fates, huh? But does that mean it’s more Python’s plan or Nero’s? If this was Nero’s plan (with his 12 kids literally replacing the Olympians) that’s,,,really fucking bold.

Then I heard the screaming from Camp Half-Blood.

2016!filodox: Music to my ears ~

I’m presenting every edgy detail of my annotations so I have a proper case file when I inevitably have to face the question “On a scale of one to ten, how relatable is Emperor Nero and why should you have realized it’s a ten sooner?”

In a flash of silver light, the camp’s magical barriers collapsed. The Colossus lurched forward and brought his foot down on the dining pavilion, smashing it to rubble like so many children’s blocks.

2016!filodox: Payback! Dear gods, I can’t stop smiling! I’m just like “YES!” I know this will all probably get fixed or whatever but I’M HAVING A MOMENT.

I’ve learned to appreciate the small wins. <3

Percy grabbed one of the crown’s sunray spikes. He sliced it off at the base, then jabbed it into the Colossus’ forehead.

2016!filodox: As much as Nero is FAR from my favorite, I really don’t like defacing ancient (or replicas of ancient) statues and art...

This is where I just start laughing at myself tbh. I was so insistent on not liking Nero. Like, I sound like I’m in denial. Peak equivocation. What happened to that heart emoji a few chapters back? Why did I suddenly make it about *checks notes* ancient art? Updated translation: nooo don’t ruin the Colossus Neronis it’s so sexy aha

Just as the [arrow] reached its apex and was about to fall back to earth, a gust of wind caught it...perhaps Zephyros looking kindly on my pitiful attempt. The arrow sailed into the Colossus’ ear canal and rattled in his head with a clink, clink, clink like a pachinko machine.

2016!filodox: HOW MANY EX MACHINAS IS THIS ?! The dryads, the arrow, Percy, the enchantment, and THIS ?

One of my criticisms of Trials of Apollo in general is just that the stakes are so much higher and Riordan usually solves that problem by having his heroes win on long odds. The chances of them succeeding at like,,,anything they attempt are astronomical, but of course they manage. It’s not surprising but it does get a little tiring.

“Yo, Nico,” Leo called, “please tell me that’s it for the physical abuse.”

“For now.” Nico smiled. “We’re still trying to get in touch with the West Coast. You’ll have a few dozen people out there who will definitely want to hit you.”

2016!filodox: Oh I’d love to hit him. With the flaming, Imperial gold payload of an onager. Preferably WITHOUT the Pontifex Maximus attached to it -- unless of course you mean the false pontifex, Jason Grace.

Leo was the salt in the wound for this one, ngl. He rekindled my undying ire over Octavian’s death. As I said at the beginning of this, I was extremely ready to die on Octavian’s hill after Heroes of Olympus. That sentiment sticks around for a while...

And we can call that a wrap!

Though it may seem like it, my annotations are not, in fact, a compilation of Nero’s greatest hits. There are a lot of scenes of his that I love (naturally) but I didn’t have anything to say about them when I first read the series. Maybe I’ll share those another time.

In any case, I hope you got something out of this ridiculously long post! Until next time! <3

#trials of apollo #toa #filodox!#I don't know what any of you were expecting but this is what I've got #no these are not all of my annotations #I tried to pick the best ones #oh also #I'm sorry to everyone with hard copies of the books #since I have ebooks it's no problem to search for quotes and page numbers are imaginary #if you want me to put chapters with the quotes I can

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ladyvader23 · 5 years

Text

Darth Vader’s First Trick or Treat

“What are you wearing?”

Sadly, this wasn’t the first time Vader had asked one of the twins this question. Children, he’d learned, were rather creative when left to decide what clothes they wanted (or didn’t want) to wear.

Leia stared up at him. Even at five, she was small for her age, and the fake stormtrooper armor, tutu, and frilly pink crown almost dwarfed her. It was definitely not what he expected to see when he walked in the door after two weeks of being away in the Outer Rim. “I’m a stormtrooper princess.” She announced, matter-of-fact.

He waited a few breathing cycles before answering. “There is no such thing as a stormtrooper princess.”

Wrong thing to say. The smile disappeared, and she leveled a dark glare at him. A promise of a tantrum of epic proportions to come if he didn’t change course immediately. “I’m a princess.” She insisted, “And a stormtrooper.”

He could have insisted that stormtroopers were well below her, that she deserved to be an empress, but he didn’t dare. He’d learned when to pick his battles. This was not one of them. Still, why would she be dressed as…?

“DADDY!” Luke shrieked from somewhere else in the apartment. Vader tensed, hand going to his lightsaber, but he forced himself to relax, especially as his son came running from the fresher, arms up for a hug.

He too, was also in an odd costume.

He bent down and scooped him up. The boy wore a furry, spotted onesie. A headband was nestled in his mop of blonde hair, two spotted, long ears flopping around from it. His face was painted like...like…

A Loth Cat.

It would seem that he was missing something important.

Thankfully, the twin’s nanny appeared. She was the longest lasting nanny, mainly because the last time he’d killed one, his children had cried for weeks wondering when she was coming back. He wouldn’t be doing that again until they were old enough to understand the consequences of failing him, or they simply didn’t need one anymore. “Ah, Lord Vader.” She greeted with a tired smile. “We thought to expect you tomorrow.”

“I came a day early.” He replied absently, still looking between his twins. “Why are my children dressed like hooligans?”

“Tonight is Hallows Eve.” The nanny, Miss Laena, his children called her, explained patiently. “The Senate is putting on an event for the children of all the Senators and high ranking Imperial officials. We went last year and the twins loved it.”

Behind the mask, Vader made a face. That explained the costumes. “My children are above them. They have no need to dress up like common rabble.”

“Please daddy?” Luke begged, throwing his little arms around his neck. Oh, that wasn’t fair. Pretend as he might, he had little defenses when his children showered him with innocent affection. He couldn’t bring himself to ruin it. “We’ll be extra good, promise!”

“I’ll share my candy with you.” Leia agreed, eagerly.

“I could take them, Lord Vader. We’ll be back by nine.” Miss Laena offered.

“I was expecting an evening with my children.” He would never admit it to the woman, but he missed them terribly when he was away. If he could find an excuse to bring them with him, he would, but they were still too young to be on a Star Destroyer.

“Well...why don’t you go with them?”

His mood barely had a chance to darken before the twins were squealing with delight. His ears wrung from it. “Daddy’s coming!” Leia crowed.

“What are you going to be, daddy?” Luke chimed in.

Vader set his son down. “I am not going to be anything other than myself.” Just like you two should be, he added mentally, but he didn’t say it. The last thing he wanted to do was walk around the Senate building while children in costumes ran around high on too much sugar.

But his children were clearly excited at the prospect of him joining them, and though the idea of Darth Vader, Second in Command to the Empire, Lord of the Sith, joining them on a night meant for children was ridiculous…

He did miss them.

“Miss Laena.”

“Yes, My Lord?”

“We will not speak of this conversation again. I expect you back in the morning before my meeting with the Emperor at nine.”

And that’s how Lord Vader found himself following behind a Loth Cat and a Princess Stormtrooper as they rushed from office to office, collecting candy in black buckets.

The first office they visited, Vader stood directly behind his children, arms crossed over his chest. Luke reached up with his fist and lightly tapped on the door. When no one answered, Vader inwardly sighed. “You need to use your strength, Luke. Like this.” He reached up and pounded.

The door swung open moments later, and they were faced with the Senator from the Hosnian system. “Oh what adorable little…” she began, then her face drained of color when she saw who was standing behind them, glaring through his mask.

“Thank you, Senator!” Leia replied politely, no doubt at the encouragement of their nanny, but the senator didn’t seem to hear them.

“Ah, h-h-h-here, have whatever you want!” She yelped, dumping the entire contents of her bowl into Luke and Leia’s buckets, then slamming the door.

“Wow!” Luke grinned, “Whatta nice lady!”

“More like terrified.” Vader grumbled under his breath as he ushered them towards the next office. The sooner this as done, the better.

The next few offices ended the same way, forcing Vader to give the twins space so that he didn’t immediately scare the senators into inadvertently giving his children a mouthful of cavities. It only mostly worked.

As they continued, more and more children in costumes began running around the halls. They were dressed as all manner of aliens, creatures, droids, characters from holovids, celebrities...to his dismay, he even glimpsed a rudimentary mini Darth Vader running around. “Oh, I didn’t know I could be daddy!” Luke gasped when he saw the other child.

“That is not an option, Young One.”

The longer the event went on, the more he wanted to pick his children up in each arm and carry them home. Tantrum or not, being surrounded by screaming children in costumes was a special brand of torture. At one point, a boy a little older than Luke approached him and dared to tell him that his Darth Vader costume was “just good.”

“Oh, that’s my daddy.” Leia informed the boy. “He’s the real Darth Vader.”

Vader might have been more amused by the squeak of horror from the boy as he ran off if he wasn’t annoyed by being told he only looked like a good impersonation of himself. What did that even mean? How could he look more like himself than he already…?

It didn’t matter. He was a stupid kid. Whatever costume manufacturer dared to make a Darth Vader costume in the first place would be getting a visit from him straight after his meeting with the Emperor. They wouldn’t survive for the next Hallows Eve.

But, blessedly, the twins buckets filled to the brim. “No, you cannot use my cape to get more candy.” Vader growled when Luke brought it up.

“Then what is it for?”

“It’s…” It was because it made him appear more terrifying to his victims, but he wasn’t about to tell his children that. “It’s because I like it. But that’s not the point. You two have enough sweets to last you an entire year. We are returning home.”

“But we haven’t been to all of the offices!” Leia complained, which earned her a long, stern look from him. Even though she couldn’t see his expression, she could sense it, and she sighed. “Fiiiiiine.”

But before they could turn and leave, a cold, dark, horribly familiar presence interrupted them. “Ah, Lord Vader. Is it you who is spreading fear among my senators?”

The fake, gravely voice of the Emperor grated on his nerves, but he forced himself to keep a cool composure as he turned to face the robed man followed by two red guards. Figures he’d make an appearance, if only to keep up the stupid facade of being a grandfatherly figure. “It is not my problem if they are all witless fools.” Casually, he stepped in front of Luke and Leia, attempting to hide them from the Emperor’s view.

The Emperor may have allowed him to keep his children, but there would come a day when he’d decide to risk Vader’s wrath. He doubted Hallows Eve, surrounded by senators and children, was that day but he would never be too careful.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you at an event like this.” The Emperor mused, and Vader didn’t miss how his golden eyes drifted to where Luke and Leia stood, peeping out at the man from behind his cloak. “But it seems I’ve found the answer.”

A chill crawled up Vader’s spine. He shouldn’t have taken them. He should have let Leana do it. He should have…

“I like your costume, Leia.” The Emperor’s voice turned honeyed, inviting. Leia didn’t move from behind him. Good girl. “A stormtrooper and a princess. Clever.”

“Thank you, your highness.” Leia quietly replied. Vader would need to thank Leana for enforcing manners in his children.

But then the Emperor turned his gaze on Luke, and the fake smile faltered. It took everything in him not to block his son from his view. “And Luke. A Loth Cat.” The robed head tilted. “Did you know that you look exactly like your father used to?”

Luke was silent for a few seconds, and Vader worried he wouldn’t respond. But, then, “Thank you, your highness.” His son replied in a soft voice.

The obligatory terrorizing of his children being complete, the Emperor turned back to Vader. “I will see you bright and early.” And there was warning in his voice.

The Emperor was not pleased by his presence at the children’s event.

Vader inclined his head as the older man hobbled by. “Yes, my Master.”

He waited until the Emperor disappeared from sight before he took his children’s hands and led them home as quickly as their legs would take them.

He didn’t encounter resistance.

But, the moment they returned home, the coldness of the Emperor was forgotten. He collapsed on the plush black couch in the sitting room while his children dumped the contents of their candy on the floor to inspect their haul, giggling as they did so.

“One, two, three…” Luke began.

He closed his eyes, trying to push back the headache.

“Twenty four, twenty...oh. I have to start over.”

“Does it matter how many you got?” He asked, dryly.

“Yes.” Leia replied. “Daddy, can you count for us?”

He was a Sith Lord. He had other things he had to do besides…

He helped them count.

“Ha!” Leia grinned. “I have more than you!”

“Actually, Luke has more…” Vader started.

“See? Daddy says I have more!” Luke stuck his tongue out, reaching for a piece of candy.

“No, no candy tonight.” He needed to meditate. That wasn’t going to happen if they were bouncing off the walls. “You can have some tomorrow, but only if you’re good and go to bed now.” He made a mental note to leave specific instructions for Leana.

Thankfully his threat worked. Or at least, it did on Leia. She reached over and gave him a hug goodnight, then rushed off to her room.

“Daddy?” Luke asked.

Already, he was preparing to force himself to stay calm. His patience was running thin. “Yes, Young One?”

Luke approached him, carefully toeing over the candy piles. “I like it when you come. Can you come next year?”

He opened his mouth to remind him that he had duties, that he was usually off planet for this useless holiday, but...he closed it. His son stared at him with such hope in those blue eyes, eyes that used to match his own…

If he wasn’t certain before that his children would be his downfall, he was now. He found he didn’t care.

“I’ll do my best.” He promised, and something in his chest eased at seeing the bright smile on his boy’s face. “I’m glad you had fun, my son. Now, let’s go get your face cleaned up...”

#dad vader series #dad vader #is best vader #luke and vader #leia and vader #my writing #halloween special #one shot #flash fiction #sort of #star wars

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ghostmartyr · 6 years

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Pokémon White Randomized Nuzlocke Run [Part 2]

Here we are in Part 2, where I have maybe learned a thing about how to keep these from being dreadfully boring. Part 1 saw us defeat the first Gym, as well as my dawning sadness about the HM state of my available pokemon.

Now we move into the Badge 2 phase of the game.

Breathing Pokemon:

Boeing (Latios)

Frogger (Seismitoad)

Timon (Tepig)

I think I will be ignoring the Cut problem until I absolutely can’t, which will be in about five minutes.

I don’t know why I didn’t walk left earlier, but I didn’t. Is there grass here? Can I catch something? My team is basically just Timon and Frogger. I love Boeing, but he is not made for this rough life. He likes relaxing and eating. Not fighting.

And the answer is that the Professor’s scientist friend has supplied a plot barrier. Sigh.

Welp.

....

I can’t even pretend to be surprised. Dang it, Boeing.

I don’t want to use anything outside the confines of the challenge if I can help it. The idea is not, “win all the fights” under these conditions, it’s beating the game.

Congratulations, Boeing.

You’re temporarily useful.

Grass! Beautiful grass!

Also Team Plasma.

Cut is so much more useful than Psywave and I am very sad.

Team Plasma dealt with, obligatory plot detail I wasn’t paying attention to dealt with, we are now free to pursue the grass.

Or will the grass pursue us.

I can’t remember how Tangela evolves normally, or how it evolves given the settings of the run, but I do think that Tangela probably could have learned Cut just fine, and I can’t remember if the Move Deleter costs anything, or even where it is in this version.

But that’s only a concern if I catch a thing that can learn Cut. Let’s do this, Boeing.

Sleep Powder is hypothetically useful. I don’t think it has ever hit when I try to use it.

Two Poke Balls and nothing. I think I am going to sacrifice the Great Ball some random NPC gave me.

Victory!

Good job, Boeing. See, isn’t life more fun when you’re useful?

You know, I don’t normally nickname my pokemon. They just keep the same name every edition of them in the wild has, and that’s perfectly fine with me.

Your name shall be... Grape.

Because look at all those vines writhing... writhe... wrath? Grapes!

Such thought. Much wow.

I think it’s time for healing and grinding.

Oh, but first, Grape! Let us find something out about you.

He is Brave and quick to flee. His Speed suggests that he isn’t that great at fleeing.

Other pokemon we could have gotten from the HM grass spot of doom include Sudowoodo and Beedrill. Tangela looks to be rarest of the set, so I suppose we can add lucky to Grape’s list of traits. There’s a Potion and a Parlyz Heal lying about that I go grab, and until the plot brings us back later (probably sometime after we get Strength), this area is just going to be a grind station.

Until I get bored after about three minutes and want to go back to exploring. I’m not sure I’m made for a Nuzlocke.

...Why is Constrict a move? It’s about as useful as Splash, only with the false hope of being capable of dealing damage.

Yeah, I don’t have the patience for this. I’m going to go left again and see what there is now that the plot isn’t keeping me trapped. ...Only after I talk to Fennel again. Apparently just letting her collect the whatever thing is not enough, I have to listen to her discoveries.

I do not. Button mashing away, we now have our C-Gear and Pal Pad. I think the first of those will end up having uses. I mostly remember all these different event skins being available for the gear.

Now I should be able to go.

Ha. I have conquered the plot barrier.

Since this is a separate section from the garden area, I think once I have some kind of rod or Surf I can come back and nab something from the water. ...I wonder if grass vs water even matters in a randomized run. Are they all completely random, or random within water? I should know these things.

My guess would be completely random. I cite the level 4 Salamence on Route 2. But either way, something to come back to.

Aw, how cute. I’m gonna demolish you (I hope).

It looks like battling is going to happen before finding out what pokemon belong to this route. In the interest of learning how to do this better bit by bit, I think I’ll limit capping battles unless something truly ridiculous happens. This early in the game there shouldn’t be much tension.

I will probably keep track of how many times Psywave misses if I use it, though. That obviously falls into the realm of Importance.

I will also say that Lillipups continue to be terrifying. And that I am so temporarily glad that Boeing knows Cut. Consistent damage. That hits.

I can’t believe this game encourages taking preschoolers’ pocket money. I know I’m only ten, but wow.

Ah, but the nice thing about beating up preschoolers (’ pokemon) is that they have a teacher around very used to healing pokemon up. Walking back to centers to heal is one of the not so fun aspects of

Whoops.

So it’s a good thing I only did grinding, because I clicked the load file option instead of the save file when I was trying to save. Good grief. I am become error. Will return momentarily. With one fresh water short, because I was stupid and a Beedrill almost murdered Timon. Also Timon now knows Flame Charge.

Okay.

Back to making forward progress, hopefully.

Let me go in the grass, Cheren. You’re supposed to be one of my two best friends. The fact that I had to be reminded by a professor whose name I also couldn’t be counted on to remember myself does not take away from our friendly bonds.

There really are a lot of non-NPC duels at the start of this version.

Okay, let’s go squad.

Boeing and Timon do a good job taking down his Meganium. I think I’ll let Frogger take the Purrloin. As the one on the team who did not need grinding, he hasn’t been used in a bit.

And that’s that. Cheren is sad/frustrated because we have the same number of badges, his starter is fully evolved and useful, and yet he still can’t win. Of course he can’t; the run would be over if he did.

But before we can celebrate and get into the grass, the plot arrives.

Team Plasma please. At least I have the option of going into the grass before getting the little girl’s pokemon back. Which I will take.

Let’s see what we get!

...Another thing that doesn’t need my help to evolve. Sigh.

As ever, that only gets a chance to annoy me if I catch it, so time to see how that train goes. I’m going to try throwing my only Great Ball. Psywave got it into the red, so...

Awesome! Based on videos I have seen recently most people aren’t that lucky when it comes to catching these things. Now I can sulk about having a fully evolved team (except for the treasured Timon) in peace.

What the heck do I name you, though? You’re a dinobird... Oh, I know. I’ll call you Ptera. Welcome to the team, Ptera. Let’s check you out.

He has a Mild nature, and he’s proud of his power. I feel like that Defense is going to end up making me cry, and I don’t think you’re a Special Attacker, so the Nature is pretty much all flavor. It’s nice to have something that can Fly; hopefully he’ll be around to use it.

...Oh geez, that Ability. Ptera Ptera Ptera... You are going to make me so sad.

The good news is he can kill his wild kin in one hit. So that’s convenient.

I’m sorry, what.

This is the exp grass now. Other finds include Octillery. Grape eats them for breakfast.

...

Oh.

It knows Aurora Beam.

It got a critical hit.

Grape was only a few points off of full health.

There was no way to know.

This is really sad.

I am so sorry Grape. You were a valued member of the team. You were only with us a short while, but you knew Grass moves. You balanced everything out wonderfully.

The exp grass is a dangerous place.

Maybe if I had just gone after the little girl’s pokemon...

It’s too late.

Grape is a raisin.

In the process of going after Team Plasma, it looks like Chimecho might be replacing Audino in the rustling grass. Maybe once, maybe always. Who can say. That would take paying more attention when messing with the settings.

A place to find Grape’s replacement. It would have been where we’d finally have a team of six, but...

Oh hey we found something already.

Okay, I can roll with that.

......Surprise, Ptera is stronger than expected. I knew enough to use Wing Attack, not Rock Throw, but I guess Ptera is just that good. Filed away for future reference. No new pokemon. A fitting tribute to Grape’s absence. The slot may remain empty for a little longer.

We get some Heal Balls from the little girl, and those could actually really come in handy. Assuming I ever properly catch a new teammate again.

One battle against an NPC later, and I think it’s safe to say Ptera is the new Frogger. He is overpowered for this section of the game.

You know what wouldn’t be overpowered? A Slugma.

I forgot about the darker grass. Route 3′s has Minccino, Teddiursa, Quilava, and Emolga.

Boeing could you please just learn something good. Please.

Whenever I see an Octillery now I’m just going to be filled with so much hate. I will kill every one that comes across my path. Unless I screw up and it kills me again, which is an absolute possibility.

We’ve made it to the next Gym city. Normal type. That shouldn’t cause any particular problem, but I do remember this fight packing more of a punch than I was expecting the first time I played, so cue the grinding montage I’m not going to screencap.

As well as the exploring the town montage I’m not going to screencap.

One of the NPCs asked me what I started with, so like a fool, I said Snivy, since that’s what Boeing replaced.

Now I have a Miracle Seed. And nothing that knows Grass moves.

Grape casts a long shadow already.

New area means new pokemon. Ones I have no plans to murder, but might very well anyway.

!!!!!

It’s. Grape’s replacement.

I love Shroomish and Breloom. One of the best pokemon in any gen, and I would dearly love one to follow me on this journey.

Yesssssss.

Let’s see. How about Palm, because your design reminds me of a pomegranate.

Palm has a Calm nature, and is somewhat of a clown. I’m pretty sure that is not the combination I want, since Breloom is more of a physical attacker, but hopefully it won’t matter too much. Poison Heal is a useful Ability to have.

Other things we could have caught in Pinwheel Forest: Vileplume, Froslass, Klink, Clamperl, Bellossom, Glaceon, Ducklett, and Metagross.

Wow. That’s a nice collection.

Oh hey and this happened.

Timon is now a robust Pignite, and has a move that will be of great use in the Gym!

We’re just going through the forest and annihilating everyone, but I spared a moment to commemorate Palm’s moment.

Tympole confused him, and he still used Absorb twice in a row instead of hurting himself. Then he snapped out of confusion and won. Contrary Nature aside, I am liking our new addition very much.

Especially since the fight against the next Tympole followed the exact same script. Good job, Palm.

The rest of this is basically all grinding, which is fun for me since I don’t have to come up with something clever to say when nothing much is going on. That is one benefit of doing this in this format.

My usual rule of thumb for these games is ten levels per gym until that much grinding becomes unbearable. Everyone’s currently level 18 (Ptera’s 16 and trying to fix that almost resulted in a Glaceon murdering him), and I’m thinking I might have hit that point.

...Yeah, I definitely have. I’ll just hit the Gym and let Ptera nom some things. Boeing will probably have to sit this fight out, because as we all know, what Normal type really means is Lillipups that know Bite. Those are not things for Boeing to face.

It is amazing how many different patches of grass suddenly have pokemon when I’m trying to leave a place, good grief.

Hello, am I fighting you again already? Or are you just doing your mysterious thing?

No, yeah, we’re doing a battle. And he opens with a level 13 Pidove to my level 17 Ptera. I don’t think he’s going to win this one. N, of course. Ptera has it in the bag, because I think it’s fair to say I have overleveled myself.

Palm was continuing his great streak of not letting Tympoles make him hurt himself, but sadly he did hurt himself once in this fight. Still, not bad, and much better than I usually get saddled with.

Ptera fighting the Timburr might be an incredibly stupid idea. He can one-shot them, but if they get a Rock Throw crit, it will be bad. This has been learned from the Fighting trainers in the wild that I didn’t screencap.

Those guys were at level 16, though. N’s level 13 is nowhere near the same brand of problem, and Ptera cleans up.

Alright, that settled, can I enter the gym now?

I forgot about the museum in front. Lenora’s got good taste.

Another Fresh Water for me. This one I don’t plan on using up. I don’t think I’ll need to, based on N’s levels. I really overtrained for this whole badge, probably. But that’s okay. I don’t like worrying about my pokemon dying every fight. Steamrolling is fine too. The main fun with all of this is finding out what I’ll end up with and raising them.

Then the very first trainer has a level 17 Patrat.

I feel less silly in my decisions.

Followed by a level 17 Herdier.

This is where I would consider doing more grinding, except by the time I’ve decided to stop grinding, I am generally not going to start again for a while.

The trainer with more than one pokemon starts with a level 15 Lillipup, so the Gym Leader’s are probably around 17-20. That should be okay. I’m healing before I go forward anyway, and Ptera’s going to grow another level beforehand just by beating this last trainer.

I really like Lenora’s Gym. It’s educational and has a secret staircase. I don’t think you can ask for more (though if memory serves, some of these get pretty wild this version).

Heals, then fight. This should be fine.

I want this office.

Ready... FIGHT!

She’s opening with a level 18 Herdier with Intimidate. Sigh. I forgot that was an ability. That might make this a little more awkward than I want, but Ptera is still part Rock. If things are going to go wrong, they should go wrong slowly enough for me to switch.

Take Down with a Leer boost only does 12, so yeah, this should be okay.

She uses a Super Potion, it takes three of any of Ptera’s attacks to down it, but Ptera gets a crit, and it’s Watchdog time!

I remembered she had this one.

For the sake of safety, I’m going to let Timon and his super effective attack handle this one. I think the Watchdog likes to sleep things.

A level 20 Watchdog. Do not want. But I believe in you, Timon. Go for it.

Uh.

Huh.

Fuck?

That’s. Wow, okay.

Watchdog with Retaliate. Awesome.

I don’t trust Ptera’s Defense to withstand whatever comes next, so Frogger... please do not die. Please. I need you to be alive and useful, because I just lost one of the greatest helps to this run.

Of course it has Hypnosis.

It’s so red. So close.

Retaliate does 30 damage without the fainting teammate ahead of time, and now Frogger is asleep and in the red. He needs to get out of there now, but I think Pursuit could be one of Watchdog’s moves.

I have one Soda Pop. He’s asleep anyway, so I’m willing to try it.

Geez this is scary.

tfw Watchdog also has Crunch and now Frogger’s Defense is lowered.

He isn’t faster, I don’t think. Even if he wakes up...

Switched to Palm and now Palm’s asleep.

Switching back to Frogger.

Frogger takes two Crunches, needs a Fresh Water, the next Crunch is a critical hit, and Frogger is still asleep. I have two Super Potions, now one, and Frogger is still alive and still asleep.

What in the fuck.

I know the sleep counter gets reset if you pull it out, but come on.

He finally wakes up, and because Watchdog only needed one more hit, victory is achieved.

Not worth it.

Lenora I don’t like you anymore.

And before we can end this segment, Team Plasma attacks the museum. Yay, plot. Plot to distract from the pain. The horrible, sad, awful, pain.

I can’t even remember their excuse for stealing the skull. Was there one?

I don’t know and care even less.

So we are assigned to search for the thieves with Burgh, Castelia’s Gym Leader, while Cheren and Bianca stay at the museum. Bianca is playing Fennel’s gopher, so we now have Dowsing Machine (MCHN) we will never remember to use, but if you’ll excuse me, I have more important matters to attend to.

...Bye.

I know the screenshots don’t show it, but you did a great job. Nothing else would have survived the gym if you hadn’t made training in Pinwheel Forest so straightforward. You did good, Timon.

Next Gym gets grinding. No complaints.

#Pokemon #Nuzlocke Challenge

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m39 · 3 years

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Doom WADs’ Roulette (1996): Icarus: Alien Vanguard

Well folks, looks like TeamTNT decided to return and redeem themselves from their decision on commercializing TNT: Evilution with their second MegaWAD.

…

Am I repeating myself again?

#6: Icarus: Alien Vanguard

Main author(s): TeamTNT

Release date: March 21st, 1996

Version(s) played: ???

Levels: 32 (standard 30 + 2)

The story is pretty complicated so I’ll try to put it simply:

Icarus happens 12 years after the events of Doom II (even though it should technically be two years later, but let’s not change the subject), and focuses on the titular ship. It has been overrun by demons (or whatever the fucking shit was nearby) and you are tasked to sterilize the ship, the nearby planet, and some simulations from demons (and blow the ship up just in case).

Now, the design of Icarus is separated into three types of levels: The ship ones,

the planet ones,

and the simulation ones.

These styles are uneven. They are all, at least, good, but still uneven. The levels that happen on Icarus itself tend to be kind of bland due to being overloaded with grey tiles and plates but they tend to have interesting locations here and there.

I have a hard time deciding if the planet-themed levels or the simulation-themed ones look the best since the authors went somewhat all out with the simulation-themed levels but sometimes, the planet-themed levels show some of the best aesthetics, like Blessed are the Quick.

The new custom textures are good. I really liked the force field one.

The soundtrack is pretty damn good. Even though it was only two members of the original music team coming back (Jonathan El-Bizri, and Tom Mustaine), some of the tracks kept the level of quality of TNT: Evilution’s soundtrack. In terms of the favorites, I like Recapture(its last part uses a cover of The Demon’s Dead), Stomp, Heart of the Hive, MAP19’s track, and Face of Evil.

Now, here is something interesting about Icarus’ music… it has a leitmotif:

youtube

Yeah, this WAD has a recurring music bit that plays in different parts of other tracks. I don’t think I stumbled onto something like this in the other WADs I’ve played, at least, from what I can remember. Doesn’t matter! I fucking love it.

The only thing I didn’t like about the soundtrack is that how some tracks just stopped after they ended, and started again after a small beat. Like the music wasn’t programmed to loop smoothly. I don’t know if this is the fault of GZDoom, or the WAD itself, but it was annoying for me.

All I can say about the level structure is that is, at least, better than TNT: Evilution. Compared to that WAD, the maps feel less sluggish to go through and have less of annoying quirks (although it still has those 30 seconds locked doors -_-).

In terms of stuff I really like:

In Shuttlecraft, you blast off to space, and then in Shuttle Bay, you can see your ship docked in.

In The Haunting some of the enemies are ghosts (it happens when an Arch-Vile resurrects the crushed carcass of another enemy) that can only be harmed either by melee damage from the other enemies, or the splash damage from the Rocket Launcher. This level even shows at the beginning how to deal with them.

WarTemple probably took some inspiration from Wormhole, since the areas that have the blue and yellow key are basically the same. It’s just one of them is upside down. A simple concept that somehow makes this level amazing.

These are just some of the examples. Unfortunately, like in every WAD (probably), there are things that are annoying.

For instance, there are two cases in Donnybrook where you have to run like a madman through the temporarily open door to go further without any mistakes. Once with the switches in hallways connected with the yellow key room, the other time with the room behind the Plasma Gun (the latter one is much worse). And these doors are quite far away from the place that opens them.

Back in WarTemple, while it might be my favorite level, for some reason, in an upside-down location, the elevator that leads to the teleporter that leads back to the main building has this stupid red pillar that makes you just barely fit on it and constantly fall down trying to run to the teleporter. Also, the elevator is too tall to stay upwards.

In order to get the yellow key in The Haunting, you have to finish the shooting gallery by shooting all of the targets dead center, otherwise, you will have to start all over again.

The worst cases are in maps from 11 to 15. Would you like to have the blue key hidden behind one of the obligatory secrets in Feeding Frenzy? How about Waste Disposal, where you have to go through the teleporter behind the unmarked wall to get the red key? Twice?!

Asylum is just a confusing mess of a map. Fortress of Evil is the best of the bunch but it still has its shit moments.

But the worst of the worst award goes to Hydroponics. It’s overall fine level, but it has this bullshit at the beginning:

This is the case of a trap that likes to scream Oi! Fuck you!, where you end up in a situation where it is little to no chance to not get hurt from the sudden trap. And this case is one of the worst. Stay in place? Dead. Move in any direction? Still dead! It’s bad enough with these barrels alone but there also other enemies peppering you! With shotgunner nearby!! I died like over dozens of times trying to go past this bullshit, intentional way or not, and I only managed to do it (somehow) once, by blowing the frontal barrels and just run before the chain reaction gets me.

I’m against cheating, but my only, reasonable advice for this part of the level is to turn on god mode before going through the teleporter and turn it off after you deal with it. Let’s hope that it will be the only time it happens.

Changing the subject, the final map is standard Icon of Sin type of level but for some reason, it feels really dumb. You think that your target is that engine in middle, this whole nucleus thing.

Except not. What you have to do is to drop into the room, circle through the elevator, shoot the skull switch that appeared on the previous platform, and then pump your rockets through the target shield that moves up and down.

…

Why? Why it has to be so overly complicated?

Okay, enough of that. Let’s change the subject and ask: Is Icarus challenging?

Uhm… Not really. Most of the time it was easy. I don’t know if it was like that because of the WAD itself, or that I’m unconsciously getting better with Doom games/WADs.

The hardest parts were basically at the very beginning and ending, where the first map was hard only because I had to kill hitscanners with the Pistol for like the first half (fun incarnate -_-), and in the last map, I was scratched from the distance by Mancubus while trying to hit the target. There were of course occasional bullshit moments here and there but I believe nothing can top the very beginning of Hydroponics.

Some parts of me want to tell you about some bugs, even though there isn’t that much to talk about. I’ve encountered like some visual glitches and at least once there was a case of monsters not going through a certain line of terrain (the latter case happened somewhat in previous WADs; I just didn’t feel any need to talk about it). You might notice it only if you take a closer look at those things.

I can definitely say, without any doubt, that this WAD should replace TNT: Evilution as one of the two WADs in Final Doom. Icarus: Alien Vanguard, in spite of its problems, takes everything from the previous work of TeamTNT and makes it all better.

There is no doubt now that this WAD’s creators redeemed themselves. Unlike the last time, when they flew too close to John Romero’s flaming head, this time, they pulled through with little to no major problems. And for that, TeamTNT earns my respect.

This is the last megaWAD on the ’96 list, so from now on, it’s just the smaller stuff for the lack of better words.

See you next time.

Bye!

#doom #review #Doom WAD #Doom 2 #doom mod #doom 1996 #doom icarus #Icarus: Alien Vanguard #Doom WADs’ Roulette

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serceleste · 7 years

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my victory over hamlet

I expect everyone who follows me knows about my Hamlet saga because I won’t shut up about it (sorry not sorry) but I really wanted to write down my experience, mostly for me, but I’m sharing it because so many of you have been amazingly supportive all the way through my disastrous first attempt to my eventual victory. So here it is, and if you just want to hear about Oscar and the play you can skip a ways down, lol.

I wanted to see this play from the moment it was announced. I mean, it’s obvious that I love Oscar’s beautiful face and he just appeals to me in general, but I absolutely love him as a performer. So the idea of seeing him live, in Shakespeare, was just… But I kind of pushed it off, because it would have been an enormous expense. The tickets weren’t cheap, I live halfway across the country so there would be airfare, hotels, Uber/taxi fare, food… I’m not where I thought I would be in life at this particular point so it just didn’t seem feasible.

And then.

The play began. I started hearing about it. And I thought… if I don’t at least try, I’m going to regret it forever. I have far too many regrets in my life for still being young, stemming from my natural introversion and anxiety and from the fact that I have always, always tried to be responsible and level-headed and do what’s expected of me. But I just thought… fuck it. I am going to do something ridiculous for once in my life just because I want to.

The tickets were sold out, obviously, so I started searching for inevitably over-priced secondhand ones. I found one that wasn’t too bad. I found a hostel a mile away from the theater, I booked a flight, I took off work. I went to NYC by myself to see Oscar Isaac play Hamlet.

And then it got cancelled. I was devastated, guys, I think you all know that. The theater employee told me Oscar was ill and I just thought… you know what? That figures. It figures that I would do this crazy thing and it would crash to hell.

So I went back home. I’d had a nice time beforehand exploring parts of the city on my own but the memory of standing there and hearing that lady tell me it was cancelled and going back outside and just… It soured the whole thing.

I called my mother. I told her I was so disappointed that all I could think about was trying to go back. She told me that I should take a few days and let it settle, think about it, but it was my money.

That was Thursday. On Friday I was checking StubHub again and figuring out what day I could make it work. August is our busiest month of the year and a blackout period where no one can take off. Because of my promotion last year I don’t work weekends anymore but in August I do. I thought, okay, I’m working weekends the second half of the month, but if I go just before then, on a Friday evening or Saturday morning, see the play Saturday, and come back on Sunday, that won’t affect anything. Saturday the 12th was squashed right in between undoable time periods and literally the only day all month I thought I could make work.

On Saturday I went back to looking for tickets and flights and the hostel. I found one ticket, more expensive than last time but not overly ridiculous (and I had had my first ticket refunded) for Saturday the 12th. I found plane tickets only slightly higher than before. The hostel was 20 bucks a night more than when I’d stayed during the week but still cheap. I dithered.

Then chelliaphra told me that was the day she and her friend were going, and then she offered to let me stay in their hotel room, and I went !!!!!

I dithered a bit more, the seller upped their ticket price (BASTARD), I bought it anyway. I was going to fucking see this fucking play if it killed me, which seemed better than stewing in regret and disappointment.

This time it was a physical ticket they mailed to me. It arrived and the seller had SCRATCHED THEIR NAME OUT SO IT LOOKED LIKE I FUCKING STOLE IT. I mean, the name on the ticket was bad last time, it gave me anxiety, but at least it was a woman’s name so unless they ID’ed me, which seemed unlikely, it would have been fine. But this was SCRATCHED OUT LIKE I STOLE IT OH MY GOD. I had to call StubHub because I was freaking out. StubHub, or at least the woman I spoke with, has excellent service and made me feel better. I was still going to freak out until my butt was actually in my seat in the theater, but I felt reassured.

My dad’s reaction was the greatest. I told him, hey, so you know how I went to New York to see a play and the play was cancelled? Well, I bought another ticket and I’m going back. My dad just went, ‘oh no’. LMAO. Then he said he hoped it was a hell of a play and I was too embarrassed to admit that I cared less about what the play was than who was in it. :D (I mean, Oscar could have been in the shittiest production of fuck knows what and I would have wanted to see it.)

So I went back to NYC! I was so anxious I was nauseous, I slept maybe 4 or 5 hours, I got up at 3:30 am Saturday morning to catch my flight. I wandered around midtown partly to pass the time, partly to do the tourist thing because it was a different part of the city from what I’d seen last time, and partly to distract myself from how badly I was freaking out, to minor success.

I met chelliaphra and brehaaorgana, who were totally lovely (and I know this wasn’t your intent but thanks for actually making me eat! I was in NYC roughly 48 hours last time and ate exactly one actual meal, and I know myself enough to know I would not have eaten at all this time if I hadn’t been with you so thank you, lol) and we went to our hotel, which was AMAZING, I will never stay anywhere that nice again for the rest of my life, I am sure. Yay accidental free upgrades! \o/ There was a pillow menu!!

I got my period in the hotel, of course, which helped contribute to my severe nausea, like, omg, I was dying. I was so anxious over everything, over my ticket, over the play actually happening, over every stupid thing I could be anxious about. No even the truly magnificent comic book store (next to door to the magnificent bookstore I explored last time) could do much for me.

Actually arriving at the Public made me feel worse, if that can be believed, I was having flashbacks of how utterly shitty I had felt, looking at the corner where I’d called my mom and cried, remembering how fucking horrible I had felt walking down the street and figuring out what the hell I was going to do now. Thankfully we didn’t pass the awful bench I’d sat on feeling miserable, lol, before I walked to the park and wrote fanfic.

We took obligatory pics next to the poster of Oscar. We went inside. I was dying. Chelliaphra went with me to the desk to see if they could reassure me about the ticket but mostly it was down to StubHub. The announcement that the doors had opened came over the speaker and we went up so at least if there was a problem I’d be at the front. I thought I might vomit.

When the woman scanned my barcode and the “good!” beep happened I almost cried I was so relieved, it was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard in my life.

And then my butt was in the seat!!!!! It was fine!!! I was going to see the play!!!!

Chelliaphra and brehaaorgana had seats in the front row and my jealousy was epic, tbh, but honestly I was so happy just to actually be there, after everything, that I would have stood in the doorway or something and thought that was good enough. The theater was very small, anyway, so all the seats felt pretty intimate. I was in the first row at the top of one of the aisles so it was actually rather nice, though I did end up having a bad angle for a little bit of it, Oscar had his back to me for one of the really key emotional scenes, which was a bummer, but whatever.

And the play! If you are looking for a critical evaluation of the play, this is not it. I had never seen Hamlet performed before and I read it once in school but that was a while ago. The closest I’ve come to seeing it was watching the movie version of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead, lol. I had zero expectations of how it should be.

I fucking loved it. It was wild. It clearly was a non-traditional staging and I dug every minute of it. Oscar was phenomenal. Just… OMG. He is such a brilliant performer and seeing him live was something else, I will never forget it. He has so much energy and intensity and he knew how to play to the entire room; he made you feel like he cared about every person in the audience and he made eye contact with EVERYONE, no matter how crappy your seat was.

He speaks Shakespeare as naturally as you or I would speak to each other, like it’s how he normally talks, so it feels conversational and everyday. You forgot he was actually speaking Shakespeare because it just rolled off his tongue as if that’s how he always speaks. His comedic timing is SO GOOD, I did not know Hamlet could be that funny. He pushed troll!Hamlet to a whole new level. His gestures, his body language, everything. A few favorite moments were when he makes this mocking kissing gesture to his mother, and when he was running around dragging Polonius’ body in a sheet before stowing it in the audience, and the ‘may I lay my head in your lap’ bit, when he’s joking about his, uh, parts, and he just like raises his leg up and gestures and I died for multiple reasons. I also loved the use of the comfy sweater, Ophelia wears it, and then throws it back at Hamlet when she’s returning his gifts, and then Hamlet wears it.

And he was so moving, dear lord. Watching him play Hamlet’s grief and loss was incredible. Knowing that he lost his mother this year really gave it an extra emotional impact, because you know that had to have informed his performance, I mean, the thrust of the play is the loss of Hamlet’s father. (Also I would just like to say that I was attacked by the playbill, like, it literally says the play is dedicated to Oscar’s mother, and in his little bio bit it says it again, ‘dedicated to my mother’, GOD I HATE FEELINGS.) When he cried it was impossible not to cry with him, he was so heartbreaking and moving. You could literally hear the sniffling across the audience. The scene where he sees his father’s ghost was amazing, and he was so good in Act Two in the big emotional part with Gertrude.

And, you know, Oscar with blood on his face is the most Extra.

Everyone knows about the lasagna but watching it was… I mean, he sat on a table and railed at a tray of lasagna with a knife and you could not look away, and when he says, ‘why what an ass am I,’ it was like you could finally breathe again.

(The lasagna was an A+ prop, btw, for the way Oscar murders it and for the way Ophelia just digs into it post-spurning Hamlet. And my friends informed me it smelled amazing, lol.)

And, yes, he spends a lot of time in his underwear (very small well-fitted underwear that sometimes rode up a bit one side and obviously I noticed, sorry not sorry). Um. He looked great in it. His ass is FINE, and I feel like this post would be lacking if I didn’t call attention to that. (He killed the lasagna in his underwear, for the record.) There was a bit in Act Two when he was watching the players where he was leaning over the back of a chair just in front of where I was sitting and that was indeed a perfect angle because DAMN. His shirt fell down to cover the front most of the time but yeah, that was not bad either, lol (and my friends confirm the answer to the question is cut, in case you were wondering). But all that being said, he was running around in his underwear and you couldn’t not look but he is also just such a fantastic performer that he was in his underwear and you were still mesmerized by the actual performance. Also I just liked it as a dramatic interpretation, I mean, he comes out when Hamlet’s meant to be a bit mad, no pants, a toilet seat protector around his neck, his hair sopping, reading the newspaper. It worked. Later on when he’s dressed again he whips the sweats back off to show his madness (or, as can be debated, his “madness”) again and I just really bought it.

Plus, he sang! Having never seen it, and only read it the once, I have no idea if that’s common practice or if it was just Oscar (I feel like it was just Oscar??), but I Approve. God his voice is lovely, I have witnessed Oscar singing in person, I can die happy.

Also I would be remiss if I didn’t talk about his hair because it’s me, hair is my thing, and Oscar’s hair… It was shorter but it was on point, and let me tell you, his hair just does that naturally. You know what I mean. It got wet a bunch of times and he would run his hands through it and it just curls like that, like, ridiculous, his hair is fucking amazing.

Of course I was there for Oscar but I greatly enjoyed the cast in general. I thought Gertrude and Claudius were amazing playing off each other and off Oscar, Ophelia was lovely (and what a beautiful voice!), Polonius was especially amusing in his ‘imparting wisdom’ bits (and looool at the bathroom as set piece), I really liked Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, and Laertes was from Preacher! The gravediggers were played by Ophelia and Polonius and they were very funny. Ophelia knocked me in the head with her potted plant when she came down the aisle to cover Polonius with dirt and flowers and I felt blessed, lol.

But Keegan-Michael Key, OMG. What a fabulous actor. I knew he would be hilarious but I wasn’t expecting to be moved quite so much by his drama, his closing lines were especially good. I loved how much they played up the Hamlet/Horatio relationship, all the face touching, dear lord, and Oscar kissed him on the mouth! I kinda ship it now, tbh. I know Hamlet/Horatio fic exists and I feel like this performance should inspire more, lol.

But, you know, I have to note the play within a play, the reenactment of the murder of the king to try to provoke Claudius, with Keegan as the king and Rosencrantz and Guildenstern as the faux Gertrude and Claudius. It was EPIC. They were all great, with their large, overdrawn movements, but Keegan was… The audience was in hysterics watching his over-played parody of a death, and damn if he didn’t go Extra for us. Oscar was sitting there covering his face to try to hide that he was laughing (we all saw you Oscar) and you could just see his OH MY GOD. Keegan did a ‘thank you!!’ to us at the end.

Oh, and the cellist! There was a cellist playing background music and they used him quite amusingly at times, like when Claudius basically tells him to fuck off.

For the gravediggers scene, Oscar and Keegan came down the aisle to sit in the audience, and Oscar was perfectly diagonal to my seat and let me tell you, his eyelashes are INCREDIBLE. So fucking long. Ridiculous. How is he real, seriously. But that was an impressive bit, Oscar is stunning in the famous ‘Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him, Horatio’ monologue, and the actual funeral, fucking hell, he killed it and he killed me, and the way it cuts out after he and Laertes have just wrestled over the burial ground with Horatio trying to stop it and Hamlet is just lying there clutching Ophelia to himself killed me again.

And there was fencing, of course! I loved the fencing. Oscar put on the white shirt with the codpiece thing and I approved. Damn the fencing was excellent. And obviously then it was sad because it’s Hamlet and everyone dies. The finale was all rather gutting, good job all around.

So the play was wild and I loved it in a very non-judging way, I was just immensely entertained and I loved the cast and Oscar was fucking phenomenal. Obviously we gave them all a standing ovation.

I feel like I should mention now just how fucking tired I was. By this point I’d been awake about 20 hours on almost no sleep, and had spent the day an anxious, nauseous wreck. I was SO TIRED. OMG.

THEN. OSCAR. We asked an usher about seeing the actors and she told us that unfortunately, if we were hoping to see Mr. Isaac, he usually didn’t stay on Saturday nights. So we were bummed and went outside to find somewhere to get food. But I had to pee horribly so I went back inside and I won’t lie, I was totally taking my time because I was thinking maaaaaaybe, maybe if I stay long enough he actually will come out, or maybe the other actors will, and then I came out and thought damn, it’s louder than when I went in, and there was a crowd, and I looked, and THERE WAS OSCAR OH MY GOD OMG!!!!!!!!!

Chelliaphra and brehaaorgana had already come back in on account of the commotion so yay! We waited for Oscar! There were so many people! He looked fucking exhausted! I felt so bad, actually, at taking up his time when he probably wanted to go eat and be face first in his bed, but he was such a sweetheart and stayed and smiled for everyone, he was so lovely and gracious.

I tried taking some pics of him standing there but there were seriously so many people. But I got my moment! He was so nice!! He smiled at me and made eye contact and John Boyega is 10000000% correct, it is really hard to look away from his face, he is so damned handsome. Like, fuck. He is a beautiful man. No one should be that beautiful in real life, it is unreal, like, you look at celebrities and you know there’s make-up, there’s photoshop and airbrushing, but goddamn, he is so beautiful up close. SO BEAUTIFUL. Also he smells great. And he is so small! I did not expect him to be so small! Like, I knew he wasn’t actually very tall but it’s just startling in person how small he actually is, he’s just tiny and compact and cute, I love him.

So it is a miracle I actually formed words. I was so nervous my hand was shaking and my brain would not function properly, IDK, partly how tired I was, partly how shy I am, partly OSCAR ISAAC IS LOOKING RIGHT AT ME FUUUUUUUCK. I also was so anxious not to bother him any more than I already was, or take up more of his time, because I felt so bad, he looked so tired and he was being so sweet, I felt guilty at bothering him. So I really barely could make myself say anything beyond asking for what I wanted and thanking him five thousand times, I don’t even know if I ever told him how much I loved the play, like, damn, I hope I did.

He took a pic with me, I think you’ve already all seen it!! I stood right next to Oscar and he took a pic with his face next to my face!!! And he totally signed my Kylo Ren journal, that is full of fanfic, a good deal of which is Poe/everyone, I am deeply, deeply amused by this. I had originally wanted him to sign my playbill too but I felt guilty asking so I just got the journal. I’d thought about bringing a Poe comic for him to sign, maybe the #1 variant that has him on the cover, but it wouldn’t fit in my purse and I had like this tremendous embarrassment at the idea of having to carry it around and keep it on my lap during the play (I was already a bundle of anxious nerves so this probably sounds stupid to everyone else but I just did not need the added anxiety), so the journal worked because I always have it in my purse anyway, and it just really really amused me to have Oscar Isaac sign my Kylo Ren fanfic journal. I half want to never touch it again because I’m afraid of wrecking it but I also want to, like, write something particularly trashy in it now, haha. (Of course, a lot of what it currently contains is plenty trashy!!) Because I am an awkward dork when I went to the comic shop and was struggling to think of something to say to not-boyfriend beyond ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ I blurted out some nonsense about wondering if he knew how to take care of autographs, and I ended up showing him my Oscar Isaac signed Kylo Ren journal (WHY AM I LIKE THIS I HATE MYSELF), but I might take his suggestion and put it in one of my comic protector bags.

Oh, also! He was wearing that backpack he always has, that he clips in the front like a 5 yo whose mom made him do it except he’s a grown ass man and chooses to do it, he is so adorable and dorky, I love him.

As we were leaving we saw Gayle Rankin (Ophelia) by the door so we stopped and talked to her and she signed our playbills. I’m a bit bummed we didn’t see anyone else but tbh, Keegan-Michael Key could have been standing right next to me and I would not have noticed because OSCAR OH MY GOD.

We found out later that Lupita Nyong’o had been there too, and I’m so sad I didn’t see her, her bone structure is sooooo lovely, it would have been so cool to see her beautiful face in person, plus I think she and Oscar are so cute. But alas. I suppose at least I can say I was in the same room as Lupita!

So we went for pizza (again, thanks for making me eat guys, even if you didn’t know you were doing it!) and went back to the amazing fancy hotel and I sent my pic to like everyone I know, and I was just so blindingly happy, and I was fucking exhausted but I was so hyped I barely slept anyway, I would doze a little and go back on Tumblr and doze a little and text my mom, it was ridiculous, lol.

And that was my adventure with Hamlet and Oscar! It was so stressful and I was ridden with anxiety and I spent way too much money I shouldn’t have spent and at times it was crushingly disappointing, but in the end it all worked out and I had an amazing time, definitely one of my greatest experiences ever that I will cherish forever. I’m so glad I got to meet chelliaphra and brehaaorgana, as much of an introvert as I am and as much as I did like wandering around NYC on my own without any socialization pressure, it was so great getting to nerd out with them over Oscar and the play and they made it so much more fun. Plus, I appreciated the moral support when I was dying beforehand, lol. Thank you so much to everyone who put up with me through this whole thing, when I was freaking out and when I was miserable and when I was exploding with nerdy joy. <3 I’m sorry this is so long! I feel like I am leaving things out anyway!

Bottom line: OSCAR ISAAC IS BEAUTIFUL AND A FANTASTIC ACTOR AND A LOVELY HUMAN BEING AND HE HAS A GREAT ASS.

Sometimes being utterly ridiculous and just saying ‘fuck it’ totally works out, guys!

#me #me vs hamlet #hamlet #oscar isaac

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tancong · 7 years

Text

Modus Operandi (Chapter 2)

“You sure agreed rather easily.”

Nyx looked over at Akande who was flanked by Reaper. The wound in the man’s torso seemed to already have started healing. In all honesty, that man was a monster. Not because of his appearance or abilities. Well, ok his abilities may play a part in it. But he was someone who would walk through an army and come back fully healthy within a day if he really needed to.

Nyx had done this research of course but even then there was only so much he could do. There were no advanced combat gear designed to fight a person who can literally turn into smoke, walk up to your squad, and instantly kill everyone. Even he barely managed to dodge the shots and preemptively move in and engage at close range. If he had tried to run, it was unlikely that he would be walking right now.

Believe it or not, getting shot with a shotgun was not a pleasant experience. While it may not have immediately resulted in his death depending on the angle, it was always preferable to not be shot with one at all. Or be shot by anything actually. But one man could only do so much.

As such, Nyx simply focused his attention back in front of him with a sigh. At least they didn’t cuff him and shove him around like some sort of rebellious slave. There was some respect among mercenaries at the very least. While a bit unexpected, he was glad he was being treated with it.

“Contrary to popular belief, death is not all that exciting from what I heard. Well, at least the people I introduced the concept to didn’t seem to like it. I figured I would postpone on trying it myself for now.”

Nyx then shrugged and places his hands behind his head as he walked, looking up at the roof of the facility for a moment before back down again after finding nothing of interest.

“Besides, it’s not as if I have any loyalty to my employer. I don’t even know who they are.”

Akande raised an eyebrow. “Is that so. I am inclined to express my disbelief and propose that you reconsider your answer before I figure out another way to express my disbelief.”

“For once, I think he’s telling the truth.”

The owner of the Spanish-laced voice appeared in purple sporting an … interesting hairstyle stepped out handing Akande a tablet and crossing her arms over her chest. She looked Nyx over before smirking.

“Well, at least you look the part of a mercenary with 156 completed contracts. It’s a shame we have to put one termination on your record. You are quite popular you know. The name is Sombra.”

Akande handed the tablet back to Sombra, the four standing there for a moment as he turned to address Nyx. “Can you prove that this is you?”

Nyx let out a soft sigh and threw a glance at the backpack that Reaper had in hand. It was a bit tattered from all the rolling and crushing during the fight but its content was probably fine. With a nod from Akande, Nyx got his backpack back, retrieving his phone and used his fingerprint to unlock it.

There were only three icons on the device. The phone, a GPS tracking application, and one called Crime.Net. Nyx tapped on the Crime Net icon and brought up the application, allowing it to scan his thumbprint, iris, and voice sample.

“Is the login process always this damn complicated?”

Sombra chuckled at Reaper as if chastising the figure in black for a naive question. “Why do you think I haven’t been able to hack it out of all things? A server ran by multiple instances on every device that accesses it, verifying and cross-checking every detail between all the clients in real-time with data encrypted with a unique 400 character code. Of course the login process is going to be just as bad. Now we not only need to cut out his eyes and thumb but get him to talk normally as well.”

Nyx navigated to his crime net profile, phone still in plain sight of the other three as to ensure them that he was not doing anything sneaky. Akande took it and compared it to the profile on Sombra’s tablet, making a semi-impressed expression on his face that quickly vanished as soon as it appeared.

Meanwhile, Nyx did not waste a moment to join in with bullying the man who had taken him down. Or perhaps it was trying to ensure that Reaper and the others wouldn’t try to actually take his thumb and eye. He was rather fond of them after all.

“Besides, there’s no point in gaining access to my profile. There’s really nothing interesting on there. It doesn’t have my information or any of my clients’ information. Hell, it doesn’t even have my face on it.”

Sombra sighed. “You’re lucky your name is somewhat famous on crime net and that Akande here heard about you from your other targets in prison. Otherwise, you’d be a human boat in the nearby river by now.”

She then smirked. “Actually, I could use your account to try and spread a virus to the other servers. It’s hard to find crime net account holders after all. The verification and access level progression is hell after all.”

Nyx sighed as he received his phone back, gazing down at the screen and terminating the contract to assassinate the figure in black.

“Sounds like you already tried once. You must realize by now that you would need to shut down more systems that to gain a majority vote to override the main server’s information. With the encryption system now relying on the atmospheric ambiance that refreshes every 2 minutes, you wouldn’t even be able to shut down a tenth of the systems online, let alone half of them.”

Sombra frowned at him then, watching as Nyx put the phone back into the bag with a nod of thanks to Reaper. Well, technically Reaper wasn’t his bag carrier. It was for security purposes. Then again, Nyx was never one to linger on technicalities. All that mattered was that he had someone to carry his backpack for him. Now that was a pleasure he never had before in his life.

“Is that why the new encryption is such a pain. Wait, how do you know th-”

Nyx smiled coyly, “I may have slid an idea to the crime net forum and watch the others discuss and develop the algorithm. I thought I might have been able to use it to find a loophole since it’s my idea, but as it stands no one has a loophole. Not even the developers. So there’s that.”

Sombra groaned and frowned at her tablet, seeming to go and delete several pages of notes or some other documents of similar importance. As she walked off with her obligatory welcome completed, she was muttering something about ‘stupid community boy scouts’ and some obscenity about the weather.

Akande watched her walk away before turning back to Nyx. “Well, in any case, I suppose you’re truly a professional mercenary then. In that case, you should know how things are. We’ll get you some training to gauge your skill and get you acquainted with working in a team. Sombra gave me a report of your highlight contracts and what it told us about you but we gotta make sure.”

He thought for a moment before nodding. “Other than that, there is nothing else you need to know about Talon. You will be tracked for our security but since you know nothing, it comes at a greater risk to you than us if you wandered off and allowed yourself to get caught.”

Nyx raised his hand and asked very calmly, “Is dental included or do I have to buy insurance?”

Akande let out a small hmph with a half smile at the edge of his lips. “We have a doctor or two on site. They’re not great, as much as I would like to praise my organization. I’d recommend you maintain your own hygiene and try not to get hurt.”

He offered a hand which Nyx met confidently, not faltering or weakening in his own grip despite being almost crushed by the man’s iron grip on his left hand.

“It sounds like you’ll fit right in. I won’t say that I’ll look forward to working with you, I’m not so keen on putting you on a team with the same person you tried to kill. But considering your reputation and lack of loyalty toward a faceless client, I will consider it.”

As he walked away, Akande did not even bother to look over his shoulder as he gave Nyx his last words.

“You may go back to your establishment if you wish as long as you tell no one about your new involvement with us. If you want to bring anything back, inform us beforehand or else we may launch a missile or two at you. Reaper could take down a Svyatogor mech by himself you know.”

“Other than that, try to not get too comfortable. Reaper will show you to the dormitory and some other member will give you a tour. The food is not bad, give it a try.”

Only now did he stop and throw a grin at Nyx over his shoulder, “As for your pay, consider it to be your life. Don’t splurge on your paycheck too soon.”

And then, the man was gone for good, probably off to some important conference or room somewhere. The place wasn’t the headquarters of Talon for sure, the excessive surveillance he did during their walk told him that much. It was just an outpost or temporary base of operation.

Nyx walked in silence with the man in black, nodding his thanks as he inspected the tracking device he was given and clipping it securely onto his inner pocket. He then looked over Reaper while they continued to walk toward the dormitory.

“You all seem rather lax on this whole security thing. I was given my life and have the freedom to do almost whatever I wanted. Hell, I was even allowed to leave and just ditch this tracking device forever if I wanted to.”

In response, Reaper returned the backpack to Nyx, furthering his confusion about the fact of the matter. If anything, he had expected to be strong armed and be under heavy watch for a long while before he would even be allowed outside.

“The thing is, we’ve all been a mercenary or something of the sort in our lives. Every one of us has their own way to escape this contract if they wished. An operative who did not want to work here would not make an operative that was good enough. They would cause more harm than good to the organization.”

Nyx raised an eyebrow and glanced to his side at the calm, gravely explanation from his left. “And what about the infamous Widowmaker?”

Now there was a pause, the masked visage betraying no thoughts and no response that Nyx could gather. The dorm was in their sights by the time he received a reply, as unexpected as it was.

“That … was a necessary exception. I suggest you do not try to pry more into it, though it would not matter even if you found out. Your place is not to question or try to change the organization’s moral code.”

Reaper then stopped, nodding his head toward the dormitory and the people talking in the front. It was time for them to part ways. To Talon, Nyx was simply another recruit until he proved his worth. Until then, he will have to deal with boring and menial tasks. Only once he did all those things would he promote and earn more money while getting a chance to work with those three individuals he had just met. If he even wanted to.

“Besides, it’s not as if we’re losing anything by letting you go instead of killing you. I’m sure the contract won’t show up again. No one is idiotic enough to try to send a single mercenary in and reveal that they have knowledge of our outpost location. Regardless, it’s a pain that you showed up, seeing as we’ll have to relocate soon.”

The smirk beneath the man’s mask was visible despite his face being completely concealed. It was a side effect of the arrogant and challenging aura that the man gave off. That was something that Nyx had plenty of experience with. They were not so different after all.

“As for the chance of you using this excuse to try to get your revenge on losing, well we already know which one of us is the stronger fighter. There is absolutely no risk in leaving you here. A man with no motivation to damage Talon. If we give you a reason to fight for and a support for your life, that’s all you need right?”

“Who knows, maybe you’ll even be there to see when we bring the end to the world. If you’re anything like us, then I’m sure you’ll find yourself suddenly becoming a monster in a field of sheep when it comes.”

“Doesn’t that sound interesting, mercenary?”

Nyx smiled to himself and shake his head in disbelief as he watched the figure walk off. The man was something else. Beyond being a monster made of black smoke, he was a human. A man with the intuitions of a leader and a mercenary. Something about him said that had things been different, he would have made a fine commander for humanity. Alas, there he was, a monster in black and a vengeance without any lack.

He was right. It did sound interesting. There were only so many reasons that a person would become a mercenary. There were only so many things a killer could be good at. There are only so many kills that a person can take joy in before they lose their focus on what they wanted from life.

Who was he? What did he truly want? Why did he fight? These were all questions that he once had answers for. Answers that became lost with time and so he lost himself. The answers in their place that he fabricated felt empty and hollow.

He thought himself to be a man with honor once. Talon had a grand goal, even if it did not represent honor as known by the peaceful world beyond. He was sure that he was a believer in love, justice, and heroes once.

Justice. That was a pretty word. Justice came to all, in some form or another. That was what he had believed. When it died was when he realized that it was not true. Not everyone received their due of justice. Not everyone was fated to pay their dues and ‘get what they deserved.’ No, it was never so simple in this world. And when his sense of justice died, he lost his belief in everything else in the world.

Nyx shook himself mentally from these thoughts. There were many philosophical questions he could contemplate. There were many questions that he could consider and lead him to regret things in his past. However, there was no reason for him to do so.

Perhaps he had let his life waste away during the past few years. Perhaps what he did had no meaning and brought him no closer to the answers he desired. What did matter was that it all led him here. Whether by fate or his own foolishness, Nyx had arrived at a place called Talon. A place with those alike to him yet with their answers. A milestone on his path to the answers he so desired.

Yes, he was a wanderer. A wanderer on the journey of life, a journey where nothing was certain except the breath that he took. A world where death’s whispers can be ignored and rejected by smoke and angels. A world where the ground could be a precarious light bridge at the whim of an architect. A world where love, justice, honor, and so many things could be found all around, yet at the same time nowhere at all.

Yes, he was a wanderer. But a wanderer is not always lost. He just did not know where he needed to go yet. So for now, Talon will have to do.

Chapter 1: The Reaper

To be continued

#overwatch fic #overwatch fanfic #reaper #doomfist #original characters #sombra

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the-vinedresser · 6 years

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Good days and bad days; concept: Cody. LOL jk these are photos taken from my family group chat. Cody got a haircut today and was traumatized by bigger dogs? Not sure, that’s what my mom told me. Although he does seem more on edge than usual.

1. Today was a bad day. It was raining all day. Usually it doesn’t bother me, but I do notice that anytime I’m working on a rainy day, my body shuts off. I almost turn lethargic, and I’m hardly exaggerating. The fatigue is insane to the point where my eyesight sometimes gets blurred. I drink all the coffee but I still end up not being able to function, no matter how much I have to do or how much sleep I’ve gotten. But this whole season (do I really even want to call it that anymore?) has basically been me on edge of a breakdown and trying to hold it in all day and not fall into the deep end when I’m out doing obligatory things like school, work, errands, etc. But the rain, along with working with my mom, something about it all just triggered depression again and I couldn’t do anything. I was paralyzed and just wanted to cry.

2. In a way, I thought it was almost cool how connected I am to nature, but for the most part it just sucks because society doesn’t glorify stuff like that. They just like people who don’t feel as much and get the job done. I know that someday I’ll also give in and reach that point but I’m trying to delay it as much as possible.

3. Last year was interesting in part because I found myself trying to resist adulthood responsibilities as much as possible. While my friend was graduating early and asking me about my interviews for internships and all this stuff, I was fighting to keep my childlike and laid back attitude but I felt like shrewdness and worry just kept getting pushed onto me and force fed to me. I don’t want to wear loafers and be on edge all the time and become jealous of young people who don’t have any idea what’s coming to them. I mean, that was me less than a year ago.

4. I shut down and sat at my desk just thinking about how enormous life is (again) and how people are so selfish and hypocritical and how I would love to have a zombie apocalypse come in. I told my friend that and I realized then that I would actually be in the most in my element of a zombie apocalypse occurred because of anxiety. I told her that I definitely don’t want to die, but I also would not mind having a terminal disease.

5. I was angry at my mom because I felt forced into doing this job because she kept begging me to and my dad said I should help out my mom. All good intentions and that’s what I went into it with. But I started growing bitter because I feel like she has selective hearing and never truly hears what I’m saying. Is this a universal mom/parent problem? Why do I feel like it is? I’ll say something like hey mom, I really want to see a psychiatrist to get medication because I’m really struggling. I thought it out and I’ve tried a lot of things, but this is the step I want to take. However, I’m really scared to make an appointment. Can you help me out? This went on for a really long time. I had to keep reminding her which is fine because she’s busy, but she didn’t seem to have any problem calling massage parlors to see if they have any appointments available multiple times. That made me pretty angry. Because it’s honestly enough to feel like I’m going crazy and I’m making all this shit up and doing this to myself, let alone not getting help on something I made really clear. At work I kept telling her I feel really nauseous and I’m losing feeling in my hands and feet. I think I’m going to throw up. But she kept teaching me how to do this complicated work thing and I have no idea what’s going on and I’m only working there for three more days so why would she even teach me this when there’s someone who already knows how to do it really well? Also, why does it take crying and throwing a shit fit to get people to actually hear you out? Like why does it have to get to that point? Can’t people just listen when you say something to them is it really that hard I don’t understand

6. So I went home early. This is great, nobody knows enough about mental illness and it’s also on me too because I don’t know how to communicate my needs either. I just know someone is going to need help in the future with some sort of mental cloudiness and struggles and I’m going to tell them it’s ok to seek help and I highly recommend it and they’re going to immediately retract in repulsion because all society ever told them was that therapy was for crazies. I hate this. I know because I did the exact same thing instead of listening to the 4 people who told me it’s ok to seek help.

7. I don’t know why I don’t think of myself and why I constantly stretch myself too much and let myself be taken advantage of, even by my own mother. I used to think of it as sacrifices you take to make a relationship grow and to make other people happy, but now it just seems like people expect me to act this way to them all the time. You like going to the mall and that’s how you relieve stress? Ok, I’ll go spend the day with you at the mall even though I get really tired but I try not to show it too much because you’re energetic and you’re having a fun time. Why am I always thinking about ways to make my mother happy and feel like it’s my duty to put her needs before mine? She always brings up her childhood and then I just feel bad for her.

8. The weird thing is I would never like or hang out with or look up to people like my parents, if I just objectively look at them as people and not my parents. My mom is the neurotic boss who won’t leave me alone, is entirely insensitive to the nuance of feeling in other people, and makes it clear to everyone that’s she’s sad when we don’t do things as she expected, like going to the mall. My dad is the boss that makes sexist and racist jokes and pretends he knows everything by making vague, cryptic statements in a loud voice. But I can’t bash them, they’re great parents and good people and they have me a good childhood that could’ve been significantly worse. I just wish I could look up to them more as mentors because it was easier that way, but our interests and the way we deal with problems can’t be more different.

9. I’m not sure why, but another thing that really annoys me is how everyone I know seems to use my education at NYU as a thing for them. Like, oh I know someone who goes to this top-ish college like honestly I feel like nobody should care, especially because I personally don’t, but everyone does for some reason. Like does that grant me the access to be prideful and feel like I’m better than you just because I went to a college? Every time we meet a group of people, nobody else ever says anything more than their name or talk about what college they go to but somehow someone else always has to mention it. Like my dad was like oh she’ll get the job for sure, I mean, she went to NYU. WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN. ARE WE REALLY ATTACHING VALUE JUST TO A NAME OF AN INSTITUTION. Like we’re all depressed and in debt I’m glad you like using the institution of college, a place that brutally preps people for nauseating adulthood and crushes people’s dreams, as a way to boost yourself up that’s great. Let’s encourage more people to hate their lives and work under insane amounts of pressure it’s great.

10. People are so stupid I can’t deal with the lack of knowing and disregard for other human life that is happening. Do you think videos about glitter on instagram are going to make your lives meaningful? THAT’S GREAT GOOD FOR YOU I am honestly so jealous, I’m not even kidding. People suck so much which was why being a Christian was so frustrating at times because they’re so exclusionary. They say, no gay marriage no this, no that but the Bible also says to be compassionate and giving, and they all of a sudden become so shy when it comes to outreach and showing grace to other people. I guess my perspective is just different because I don’t have those deep relationships where I can tell people anything on my mind and vent to, I’m too busy trying to just help other people who I barely know WHY DO I DO THIS

11. Life sucks and nowadays I’m drawn to topics about death, sex and drugs. Just stupid counterculture things because I feel like they hold more truth amongst whatever the fuck people are doing these days? My teenage angst seems to have delayed about 5 years it’s great. I mean, the later the better for this kind of stuff so in a way I’m thankful I guess. I just don’t believe in humanity or anyone anymore I hope we all die in some kind of natural disaster to be completely honest. Like I heard people all the time saying that politicians suck and the world is corrupt but it isn’t until now that I truly understand what they mean. Capitalism literally drives everything. This is why I would rather kill myself than go to most things that are business related. I refuse to be part of the problem just so I could live a quaint life, not unless I had my future children in mind or something more altruistic like that. Other than that, it’s terrible and takes advantage of the most vulnerable people. Our president is a narcissist. I want to just live on an island for a little while and do something like make surfboards or something this is bullshit

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