#Despite having no human genes but boy was engineered to look like one and not with good intentions.

[nyokacore]

Do you guys fw fragmented mentally unstable non-human humanoids with cosmic repercussions?

[spitblaze]

Aaaaah I have so many questions for the Android Therion AU. Ravus Industries has def used Therion for Less Than Legal activities and I wonder how much of their treatment of him skirts on the rights of an android as well (honestly in a capitalist hellscape I'm surprised they have any at all as much as there's a sense of 'we made you we own you forever unless you can afford to buy yourself outright')

That aside, I am *very worried* for Alfyn's safety as Ravus Industries tries to get Therion back. Like... they don't have issues killing if they use androids for assassinations. owo;;

Well, even in a capitalist hellscape there's civil rights lawyers. How far the rights of artificial lives go is...up in the air, at this point. Can they vote? Can they own property? Are they considered citizens? Do anti-discrimination and labor laws apply to them? Unclear, and probably varies between jurisdictions. Either way, androids have at least been around long enough at this point that they're not like, a chattel slave class outright. Also not super common, maybe one out of every 50 or 100 people is an android, but enough that it's a sizeable population, enough that they cannot be considered property outside of specific circumstances, and Therion happens to fall under that legal category.

Therion (and by extension Gareth) are officially and legally, despite having just as much going on upstairs as any human being, property of Ravus Industries. The paperwork was all filed beforehand, he's made with a specific purpose in mind and 'would pose a danger to others' if not under the control of the company, or they claim that he has no true intelligence and is therefore not sentient enough to qualify as a citizen, or something. I'm not gonna pretend I know enough about civil rights law to make up what those exceptions are, but just know that Ravus either fudged most of em or paid off some politicians to let them keep the whole thing hush-hush or both.

There's probably a good few sympathetic scientists and engineers who consider him fully human but unable to really do anything about his situation without jeopardizing their own. There's clearly others, like whoever wrote his file, who look at Therion and only see a tool. One that's helped Ravus Industries take down competitors and acquire their tech and research illicitly, but in this case one of the benefits of Therion being private property is that responsibility lies on the company, not him. Legally speaking, at least. I'm sure some of the less-sympathetic caretakers threaten to reprogram or scrap or replace his parts every time there's a mistake, because he's not a person, he can't learn, he's a machine who has defective parts.

At any rate, uh...Alfyn is definitely in trouble, lol. Like luckily he's still a country boy who can handle himself (Still has swarthy carpenter genes and experience with an axe, probably has a shotgun or whatever the 31st century equivalent would be), and magic is probably still a thing in the 'sufficiently advanced science' way (still thinking about how osvald just does math so hard it makes fire. baller), but ultimately the one thing that's keeping him safest is the fact that all of Therion's remote activation and tracking parts were disabled or removed after his initial escape. That's it. Ravus wants to turn Therion into a Homing Murderbot so bad so they can just retrieve him very easy so they can make him. idk. steal whatever the Wyndhams are doing or murder union organizers or something. The Fantasy Pinkertons are absolutely on his ass.

Luckily Alf at least has his trusty repair van and mobile engineering kits, as well as his usual irresistible charm that nets them allies wherever they go. Ravus Industries is a well-known company that employs a lot of people, but, uh. So are Nestle and Apple, if you catch my drift here. And it's not like they're alone, either! Tressa knows enough about how businesses and boards of investors work to predict what Ravus is gonna try, Olberic and Cyrus together have enough practical and theoretical knowledge of tactics to make for very effective planners, H'aanit knows how to live off the grid and hide your tracks and is the only member of the party who can wield a shotgun with more precision than Alfyn. Ophilia and Prim are also there, idk what they do, Prim is better with diplomacy and has less qualms with muder than Therion and Ophilia is probably very good at finding them allies or places to lay low (what are you going to do, say no to a bishop???).

I have MANY thoughts. some of them related (Cordelia may or may not be a C-suite at Ravus and is very conflicted on what to do about the situation bc she thinks the robot is hot and should go free but knows the practical use he has to the company. either way therion doesnt like her) some of them not (prim has her own goals and possible beef with Ravus but keeps getting distracted by h'aanit who is a lethally hot butch lesbian) but. im having a lot of fun thinking about the whole thing. heehee hoohoo funny sci-fi au

[the-void-writes]

Intro Post: The Freaks of Preston

Genre: Urban Fantasy

Contains: Superpowers, Lots of injuries and illnesses, a group of neglected and abused children who find a better family in each other, an antagonist with a million secrets, adopted families being sweet and supportive, and an unbelievably powerful protagonist who just wants to be loved.

Summary:

Freaks are a different species of human with incredible powers, and the rest of the world wants them dead for it. Young Will Shapiro is no exception, as his father’s cruel attack brings the unwanted attention of the entire town. Luckily, a kind, widowed Freak named Jason teaches him that he is worthy of life and love, and ends up becoming his godfather. Unfortunately, a calculated hit-and-run splits Jason and Will apart, both believing that they killed each other. Jason is taken in by Ves Corp, a secret organization built to look after Freak-children, while Will continues to grow up in a hateful world. When Ves Corp kidnaps Will’s family without Jason’s knowledge, they reunite to free Will’s family, while struggling to decide where they truly belong.

Taglist: @jacquesfindswritingandadvice @kashacreates @tryingtimi @circa-specturgia @sapphic-story

Characters below the cut:

Will Shapiro: A kind but insecure boy with telekinetic powers who has learned to have little regard for his own well-being. He tries to have a life with the few kind kids at school, but the events of his life have left him feeling empty. His family is very important to him, including his god-family across the street. Jason was the first person to show him that he deserved to live, and he is forever grateful to him for it. When he hears about Ves Corp, he’s determined to free everyone that he can, even if he has to use his powers.

Jason Rhodes: A graceful man with a wing mutation disguised as a tattoo. He lost his fiancé, Phil, to a hereditary illness, during which he pushed Jason away completely. Despite how badly he views himself, Jason is determined to convince Will of his own worth. He’s longed for a family of his own, and is very fond of both the Shapiro and Prescott families, especially Henry. He would do anything for them, even if he got hurt in the process.

Henry Prescott: Will’s second godfather, a large and cheerful man looking after his son after his wife, Lina, left to pursue a relationship with her friend, Lucy. He admires Jason’s generous and caring nature, and ends up developing feelings for him. They are a sweet, goofy, and loving couple, up until Jason’s “death.” Henry tries to remain strong for the kids, but he can’t bring himself to go out with another person. When he reunites with Jason, he gives everything he has to help him and his students survive.

Mary and Isaiah Shapiro: Will’s birth parents. Mary is a hard-working woman having to look after three kids, though she gets help from Jason and Henry. Isaiah is cold and stern man who hates Freaks, and is horrified to find out that not only were there some in his family, but those genes have passed to his son. Mary has Isaiah put under a restraining order after he breaks Will’s arm.

Lydia Shapiro: Will’s younger sister, a funny and not-too-bright girl who loves rock music and punk girls, and also thinks that DaVinci is a giant turtle. She may be clueless sometimes, but she means well and knows how to cheer people up. She tries to protect her family from Ves Corp by offering herself for testing, during which she receives the fire powers locked within her genes.

Maddie Shapiro: The youngest Shapiro child, a very bizarre girl with an animalistic grin that likes to chew on everything she can find. She brings home wild animals that no one can seem to identify, and she squawks at strangers. The stress of Ves Corp’s kidnapping triggers her powers, the ability to shape-shift into horrific creatures.

Alvie Prescott: Henry’s son and Will’s godbrother, a silly boy who’s very similar to Lydia, though he’s also trying to become a robotics engineer. He would do anything for the Shapiro family after all of their support.

David Sanchez: Will and Alvie’s best friend. He was paralyzed in a car accident and has to move around on a pair of crutches. He’s a problem-solver and a compassionate boy who just wants to help people.

Micah and Diane Benally: Twin siblings, both friends with Will and Lydia. Micah may be shy, but he’ll defend his sister from anyone who misgenders her. Diane is a sweetheart who makes everyone feel happy and energized.

Tiffany Bell: Diane’s girlfriend who rules the school gym. She kicks butt in sports and then writes songs for Diane.

Laylah Mathews: Will and Diane’s chill friend, who’s been searching for her missing brother after a suspicious van took him away.

Gabriel Vesely: The mysterious and manipulative owner of Ves Corp. He looks after a facility meant to house Freak-children who were abandoned or hurt by their families, though he still has them train to become his personal weapons, which he wants to use to make the world accept Freaks into society.

Rio Manuel: Vesely’s right-hand man, a brooding and scruffy soldier who just wants to make sure his adopted daughter, Jin, can survive in the world.

Avery Evans: A young doctor trying to do some good by working for Vesely to help the kids, though he doesn’t like his boss’ future plans.

Julie Valencia and Cierra Keyes: Two smart and fun wives who make weapons, gear, and serums for Vesely, but aren’t afraid to sass the old man.

Jin Cho: One of Ves Corp’s top patients, a tough but kind girl with shadow powers who lost her birth parents to fever, followed by her adoptive parents in a car crash. The accident also took her arm, and Vesely gave her a prosthetic, but Rio has trained her to fight without it just in case.

Sarah Monroe: Jin’s girlfriend, a sweet kid with metal-bending powers who just wants her friends to survive, no matter who’s looking after them.

Colin Morris: A smart and caring boy who was dropped off at Ves Corp by his cold father who wanted nothing to do with him. He wants to be a chef and cook freely without people freaking out over his disintegration powers.

Riley Brooks: A foul-mouthed but secretly friendly boy with electricity powers who was taken in after his mother had a fit over him coming out as a boy. He just wants to be himself and protect the few people who support him.

Thomas Li: Riley’s partner, a quiet kid who can phase through most solid matter. Their parents abandoned them at a park after they came out, and Ves Corp took them in. The tests are very overwhelming for them, but their friends help them get by.

Kevin Mallory: A stylish young boy who can stretch and squish his body like taffy. Ves Corp took him in after his mother scarred his eyes. He jokes around to hide his anxiety and feelings of inadequacy, and though his friends may tease him, they still adore him.

Nola Pederson: Lydia’s roommate at Ves Corp, a soft-talking and kind-hearted girl who can conjure black vine-like tendrils from the ground. Her mother offered her for testing in exchange for a good position in Ves Corp. Nola and Lydia comfort each other after long days of testing and plan to break out together.

Charlie Mathews, Sammy Lussier, Anthony Mitchell, and Jon Curtis: Maddie’s new friends who were also taken by Ves Corp. Charlie can control the dead, Sammy controls light, Anthony can possess and read minds, and Jon can replicate other people’s powers. While Charlie and Sammy get to stay with Maddie, Anthony is stuck in solitary confinement, and Jon is being looked after personally by Vesely like a father, because he sees the most potential in his powers.

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

You’re Not a Monster

Dean x Reader

a/n: I’m putting an authors note here because I don’t know how to tag the reader. She’s a werewolf shapeshifter. She shifts into a wolf like in all of my A/B/O fictions I’ve written. Basically it’s Twilight shit that I write my werewolves. XD Don’t mind me.

Bingo Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

Warnings: STRONG ANGST, Language, SPN level gore and blood, scary situations, Fluff end to the rescue.

Summary: Dean discovers something different with the reader and it changes their relationship. Is there anything worth saving after Dean learns the truth.

Word Count: 2,609

Square: Quote A (“How about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?”) @supernatural-jackles​. SPN Tell me a Story Bingo.

a/n#2: This is not part of the Finding Him storyline.

a/n #3: My dumb ass forgot to credit the creator of this gif, I space out and forget, I’m not dumb...but credit for the gif goes to @supernaturalfreewill​

~

“Shit.” She muttered, as she morphed back into her human form to find a very furious looking Dean looking back at her.

They were on a wendigo hunt, when a wendigo almost had a upper hand on Dean, she had morphed into her white wolf form to get out of a tight situation with another wendigo.

Wendigos, though fearless of their prey. But when they are the prey, it’s a whole other ballgame. They began to back off of the hunters. But Dean fired off two flare guns to kill the two wendigos before they got away.

“Dean, I can explain.”

He grabs his colt, loaded with silver bullets. Aiming it at her.

“Dean.” She begged.

“We talked about everything.” He shouted. “Whatever happened to that? When were you gonna tell me about this?”

“Well, how about we put the gun down and let’s talk about this?” she suggested with a shaky voice.

“Talk, now.” He demanded. Ignoring her suggestion. Keeping his gun up and pointed at her.

“Well, my mom was human, and my dad was a werewolf. I don’t know what else to really say.”

“You fucking morphed into a giant ass wolf!”

“I’m not that big honestly.”

“Y/N!”

“Half Breads like me are smaller than the pure breeds. And a certain gene causes the morphing. Most werewolves don’t morph, you just see the fangs and the claws. My kind morph.”

“Now answer the second question.”

She swallowed thickly. Still nervous and scared of the man she’s trusted and loved for years.

“I was never going to mention it to you because I was scared of this. I’m still scared of you finding out somehow some way, and killing me in my sleep.”

For the first time in the night, she saw her flash across the older Winchester’s face.

Faint foot falls can be heard, Sam entered the cave room where they stood. Sam seeing Dean aiming a gun at Y/N.

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam shouted at the scene.

“She’s a monster, Sam. And she’s lied to us, all this time, she’s lied to us!” he shouted.

“That’s not true, Y/N, tell him.”

“What can I tell him?”

“Dean, do you count how many times she’s had our backs?” Sam asked. “There was that werewolf case in Minnesota when the pack leader cut you up pretty badly. She murdered that son of a bitch and saved your ass. And then there was that witch in Mississippi, the witch turned you into wolf, we couldn’t move you around the city like a normal dog because people knew a wolf from a husky. She managed to find the counter spell, turn you back to human. Then there was that ---”

“I get it Sam, but she could have told me she was part fucking wolf!”

“She had all that time still, all that time to kill us and she didn’t.”

“It doesn’t matter Sammy.” He says, lowering his gun looking at her with disgust. “I can’t trust her.” He says to her.

“Dean please!” she begged tearfully.

“Don’t.” he snapped.

She snapped her jaw shut and she just let her tears fall freely.

“Find your own way back to the bunker, I expect you to be out before morning.”

They stood in the cave room in dead silence despite Y/N’s sniffles from her tears.

“Don’t ever come back.” He warns.

He holsters his gun, and turns to walk out of the cave. Sam couldn’t say anything to Y/N to make her feel better before she silently walked out not far behind his brother.

 One year turned into three, the Winchester’s and Y/N stayed apart but still kept up on hunting. That is until one hunt brought them together again.

It started with hearts being ripped out of college students in the Navajo desert.

Y/N was the first to investigate, one of the students place of death was just outside of an old reservation, a cave dwelling in northern Arizona.

Odd, I smell wolf, but I smell something else. She thought.

She heard a screech from a monster inside the cave dwelling.

Not wolf, wendigo. She panicked. Realizing she was unprepared.

The wendigo showed itself to her, being three times her size, head nearly reaching the caves ceiling.

“Oh, your one of the first wendigos…” she says to herself. Thinking out loud.

It let out another ear shattering screech. Y/N covered her ears desperately to save her hearing. But the wendigo drew its hand back, landing a hard swing of it’s claws. Knocking her across the cave dwelling, hitting the wall hard. Hearing a loud crack, she landed hard on the ground. She felt something warm and sticky ooze out of the back of her head.

She saw the wendigo crawl towards her before her world turned black.

 Weeks later, more bodies turn up, picking up the attention of the Winchester’s.

“If this is werewolves, why was the most recent death out in the desert?” Dean asked.

“Maybe their hold up in the old caves the Navajo natives stayed in? I don’t know Dean, but it was a little over two weeks ago. And their saying a person went missing last week, they were probably looking into the same thing we are.”

“Well, let’s go gank this son of a bitch, stop the bodies from dropping out here.”

With that, they loaded up the Impala for the 50 mile trek to the Navajo Cave Dwellings.

 “This looks so cool; I wonder how the Natives lived in these things.” Sam says fully mesmerized.

“Alright nerd, focus.”

Sam just rolls his eyes. As they searched higher along the cave dwellings.

“Oh my god no,” Sam breaths. His heart dropping to his stomach.

“What?” Dean asked, not far behind from Sam.

When Sam took off running, he managed to catch a good glimpse at what he was running to. More like who he was running to.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted.

Dean took off at his heel running to her side.

“Her wounds are weeks old; she may not make it Dean.”

“Don’t talk like that, she’ll make it.”

“Y/N, baby, can you hear me?” Dean asked, trying to cup her head, his fingers dragging across dried blood. Pulling away, Sam seeing the dried chips of blood on his hand.

“Can wolves like her heal?” Sam asked.

“I don’t know, I never looked into it.”

“Dean, what if she’s gonna die?”

“Sammy, listen to her heart, listen to her breathing, she’s still here with week old wounds. If she didn’t die yet, she’s not gonna.”

Sam began to investigate her wounds further. Seeing the infected gash on her stomach and chest.

“She’s running a bit of a fever Sammy; we need to get her out of here.” Dean says, after running a hand on her forehead.

“Dean, these are Wendigo wounds.” Sam says, pulling up her shirt. Causing the injured girl to groan.

“Easy, Y/N, you’re safe, we got you.” Dean soothed.

“Dean,” she groans. She seemed like she was awake, but her eyes weren’t opening.

“Hey sweetheart, it’s me. You’re okay.”

“Wendigo,” she whispers.

“I know baby, we know it’s a wendigo now.”

“Giant…Wendigo…” she mutters before her body goes limp in his arms.

“Giant wendigo?” Sam asked.

“Could be a hallucination?” Dean questioned.

There was a distant screech in the dwellings.

Sam looked on within the dwellings, and he caught first glimpses of the Wendigo.

“Um, Dean, we might have to abort this one.”

“Why---oh fucking shit.” Dean says following Sam’s gaze seeing the size of the Wendigo crawling out of the Dwellings.

“Sam, that death that was out here, was it even a werewolf?” Dean asked.

“Nope, they ranked it up to animal attack.”

“Then lets get Y/N, and lets get the hell out of here.” Dean says, scooping Y/N up with little to no effort. “Fuck this, lets get!” Dean shouts.

The Wendigo lets out a ear shattering screech. The boys didn’t stop, they hurried as fast as they could out of the cave.

A hand of the wendigo crashed near them, the impact causing them to fly out. Sam flying off left, rolling, and hitting a wall. Dean lost his footing, rolling down the walkway, loosing Y/N from his hold, his back hitting the wall of the pathway. And Y/N stopped halfway on the path.

The roll had dazed Dean a bit, before he noticed the Wendigo was moving to land his hand down to crush Y/N.

“Y/N! NO!” Dean shouted helplessly.

At the sound of Dean’s voice was enough for Y/N to find a small ounce of energy to wake and morph.

Her wolf form let out whine at the pain from the infected wounds. She stumbled to get her footing to jump towards Dean. The wendigo missing her just mere inches.

But the effort proved to be too much for her to handle. She collapsed onto Dean’s lap with a whine and huff. The wolf totally unconscious again.

Sam was first up rushing to his brother.

“Dean, we can’t fight this, it’s too big. And Y/N could be dying from those infections. Let’s get.”

“Help me carry her, she morphed.”

“I’ll grab her tail end; you grab her head.”

They did as planned, and they rushed back to the Impala. Laying the wolf in the back seat. Dean hurries to the driver seat, Sam already in the passenger seat. Dean turned the key in the ignition, roaring the engine to life. He puts it into gear, and he peels out of the canyon where the Cave Dwellings sat, driving full speed to the motel.

 Eventually she morphed back to her human form in her unconscious state as she laid healing in the older Winchester’s bed.

Dean was not letting up; he was going on two nights of no sleeps. He had not moved from his spot by her bedside.

“Dean.” Sam says entering his room.

“I’m not hungry Sammy.”

“Dean, you know when she wakes up and when she finds out you doing this to yourself she’s gonna kick your ass, you know that right.”

“Let her.”

“Dean.” Sam says with a sigh.

“I was so angry with her for her not telling me everything. But she did have a point, “hey guys I’m part monster, don’t kill me.””

Sam stayed silent. Letting Dean just talk it out.

“She would have a reaction to silver, I never looked into, I never asked her. And I pointed a gun at her. I was literally two seconds away from killing the one girl I loved. When there was nothing wrong with her.”

“Dean, your trust with her was broken. You took the time away to reflect, and you saw neither one of you were in the wrong.”

“I overreacted.” Dean says, rubbing his eyes to push the sleep away.

“You did, and there’s nothing wrong with it. She’s the most understanding girl I think, I’ve ever met. I’m sure she’ll forgive you Dean.”

“You remember that witch case?” Dean asked.

“The one where you were changed into a wolf?”

Dean nodded. “Remember you asked why a wolf?”

Sam nodded.

“It’s because of her. Somehow, some part of me knew she was a wolf. She’s my soulmate.”

“Your soulmate? So, changing what spell did that witch use on you anyway?”

“She kept saying something about me walking around this world lost and alone. She said the spell would turn me into the spirit of my soulmate.”

“Wolf, because she’s part wolf.”

Dean nods.

She stirs with a groan pulling the boys attention away from their story to her.

“Sam, did you ever look into her healing process, is it different to us?”

“It is, she heals faster. But her wounds were infected. I gave her, her a shot to help her body fight the infection. Her color is coming back, she’s looking better.”

“She does.” Dean agrees, letting out a yawn.

“Dude, get some sleep.”

“I’m fine Sammy.”

Sam rolls his eyes as he exited his brother’s room.

 She woke up to the familiar scent of the Winchester’s, but the scent of one of the brothers was stronger than the other.

Dean.

She woke up in his room. Feeling a weight on her hip, she sits up slightly seeing him use her hip as a pillow. And he was sound asleep.

His arms looked as if they were trying to hold her as best as he could from where he sat.

She tried to sit up more, but a sharp pain stopped her. She winces.

“You might want to stay in bed, you were banged up pretty bad.” She heard Sam say in Dean’s dark room.

“Wait, what? How?” she asked, trying to understand. Remember.

“We were hunting werewolves, when one death of a victim took us to where you were.”

“Did you guys?”

“Oh, hell no. That fucker was way too big. I don’t think one flare would kill it.”

“You didn’t try?” she asked.

“No, we were more worried about you. You were in pretty rough shape.”

Dean stirred, snuggling closer to her, rubbing his head into her hip.

She ran her hand through his short strands of his hair.

“He was really worried about you, believe it or not.”

“I could feel it.”

“I guess that’s the soulmate thing.”

“What?”

“You remember that witch case, when Dean was a wolf?”

She nods.

“The spell used; Dean says the witch used a spell to turn him into the spirit of his soulmate. And he turned into a wolf.”

“That’s a thing?”

“I guess.” Sam shrugs.

In his sleep, Dean let out a big yawn. Almost pulling him out of his deep slumber.

“Dean.” She says.

“hmm.” He says sleepily, not opening his eyes.

“Come to bed.”

With his eyes still closed, he works at pulling off his boots, taking off his flannel, shirt, and pants. Leaving his boxer briefs on. He pulls the covers off of her, and snuggles in close to her, wrapping an arm around her middle. And snuggling his head into the crook of her neck.

“At least he’s a sleep.”

“I know, like I said, I felt it. I could feel that he was going to wake up sore if he was gonna stay like that.”

“You two make thee most cutest couple, I’m just admitting that right now.”

“Did I just hear Sam Winchester refer to us as cute?” she smirked playfully.

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. It’s just good seeing him happy again.”

“I know, I—”

“I know you could feel it, I’m heading to bed now darlin’, good night.”

“Night Sammy.” She yawned, letting the older Winchester snuggle more into her. “Night Dean, I love you.”

She woke up feeling a hand play with her hair, petting through her long strands atop her head.

She hums, snuggling into the hand. Hearing him chuckle. And felt warm plump limps kiss her forehead briefly.

She opens her eyes to a pair of beautiful green ones. “Hi.” She says softly.

“Hi, sleep good?” Dean asked.

“Better than I had in years.”

“I bet,” he says, giving her another peck on her head. “I called Garth, I’m having him get your things and we’re moving you back in with us.”

“I take it I’m welcome back?” she asked carefully.

“You are welcome back, soulmate.” He says snuggling back into her making her giggle.

“Are all caught up now?”

“I think we are.” Dean admits. “Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Never again, no more secrets, no more mistrust. Never leave me again.”

“I don’t plan on it Winchester.”

Their lips crash into one another in a passionate, much needed kiss.

~

Tags:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/8/2021

[colehasapen]

(CHAPTER 1) there's a river full of memory STAR WARS

Comfortember no.19 - Memory Lane

Comfortember no.21 - Hugs

There’s a cadet-sized redhead standing where General Kenobi had been only moments before.

Wooley knows he’s not the only one staring in mute shock at the magically-appearing Little, but his ARC-trained mind is already churning, categorizing everything he can about the tiny Human. He’s lanky in the way that betrays a coming growth spurt that he hadn’t quite reached, and skinny enough that high cheekbones are poking through dirty, freckled cheeks that should still be round from youth. He’s missing shoes, and the way he holds himself points towards injuries hidden by his ragged, tattered robes and torn leggings that are caked in more dirt, and stains that look suspiciously like blood. Small hands are wrapped around the very Force relic General Kenobi had been studying only seconds ago, before a bright light blinded them all and replaced their Jedi with a child.

Logically, all the signs point to the Little being General Kenobi. The red hair, the pale skin, and the blue-green-gray eyes are all the same - but Wooley can’t bring himself to truly acknowledge it, because there’s thick shackles around tiny wrists and a heavy collar weighing down a thin neck. Acknowledging the kid as General Kenobi means that the 212th’s Jedi had been this child, that he hadn’t had the happy childhood they’d all imagined the man having. They’d all built this image of their General in their heads, and what they see in front of them crushes all of them.

“... General?” Commander Cody’s voice is more shaken than Wooley had ever heard before, his expression openly shocked and alarmed, and Wooley doesn’t blame him. He may not be privy to most of the details behind his brother’s relationship with the Jedi, but he knows enough. “Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

The kid’s frightened, darting eyes sharpen, shooting towards the Commander at the name, and that in itself is proof enough that it’s damning, even if the possible cadet-Kenobi doesn’t verbally respond.

The little Jedi is afraid of them.

Commander Cody steps forward, almost hesitant, and the kid stiffens, looking ready to flee but he’s also rooted in place. It’s a trained response. It reminds Wooley too much of Kamino, where fear means that they can’t step out of line. Fear keeps them obedient. It’s trained into them from a young age, but General Kenobi - Wooley had seen the shiniest Jedi in the Temple in passing, they were all so happy and free and loved . He’d never imagined General Kenobi as anything but.

The Little in the karking slave collar says otherwise, and Wooley kind of wants to shake the next High General he sees and demand to know what happened to their General when the 212th wasn’t there to watch his back.

From the tense line of Commander Cody’s shoulders and the shaking of his clenched fists his vod is probably thinking the same thing. “You’re Obi-Wan Kenobi?”

Maybe-Little Kenobi hesitates, eyes darting around the number of large armoured troopers around him, before ducking his head submissively, and it makes Wooley feel sick. “Yes sir.”

The imaginary blade hovering over their necks drops. It’s official. The bruised, beaten Little with the too-shaggy hair is - was? - their General. The tension skyrockets, and Little Kenobi flinches, hunching inwards to make himself look even smaller, as if they were a threat to him. Across the room, Pace makes a strangled sound, taking an aborted step forward. Seeing the General in such a state is upsetting all of them, but Pace is their CMO, is General Kenobi’s CMO, and he’d want to help - but Little Kenobi shies away even further, breaths coming out in uneven little pants.

Panicking.

He’s scared. Jedi can sense emotions, Wooley remembers General Kenobi saying, and he’s surrounded by tense, aggressive adults who he doesn’t know. The last place he remembers is probably wherever he had been held, by demogolke who had slapped a collar around his neck.

Taking a deep breath, Wooley carefully pushes his negative emotions into a locked box, letting himself fall into mission mode. A few carefully relaxed muscles makes him less imposing, and a couple battle signs has even Commander Cody backing down from the kid and letting Wooley take point on this.

Little Kenobi is already starting to relax, so Wooley makes sure that his posture is gentle as he approaches, and the small redhead watches him like a shriek hawk. He keeps his hands where the kid-that-was-his-General can see them, and keeps inching forward until thin shoulders start to rise defensively again. He stops.

Slowly, carefully, Wooley lowers himself to his knees, placing his bucket in front of him, and he smooths out his kama, instinctively tracing the stylized sunbursts he had painted on the edges. “Hey there, Obi-Wan.” The name feels odd rolling off his tongue, but the sound of it makes the little one relax slightly. “I’m Wooley, you’re on board the Negotiator - it’s a Venator-class Star Destroyer belonging to the Republic.” He relaxes more, and Wooley carefully makes sure he doesn’t react when the kid starts inching towards him. “How old are you, Obi-Wan?”

Little Kenobi blinks, licking his lips nervously, eyes darting around him, but it seems Wooley, at least, has won his fragile trust. “Twelve, sir.”

Twelve. Wooley doesn’t have to look to know that his brothers are flinching. Most of the command ranks are twelve, some of the few to have survived as long as they have, while Wooley himself is a few months off of ten but had been in battle for just about the same amount of time as the oldest surviving Vode. He had been sent out at 8, caught awkwardly between the generations of clones who aged twice as fast as natborns and those who ages even faster, engineered to quickly take the place of the numerous Vode who died as the War progressed. He’s from the last batches of 2X-clones - some of the few who weren’t immediately put through gene therapy to speed up his aging, and instead sent out to the frontlines without much hope for a life expectancy, but he’d proved everyone wrong - and it’s not fun, being among the youngest-looking clones in service while his younger brothers outpace him, and his older brothers look at him in pity or try to put themselves between him and the enemy, despite the fact that he’s made it to ARC Trooper.

To them, twelve is fully grown, but Kenobi is a natborn - twelve year olds are kids , and while there are young Padawan-Commanders serving in the War, they’re shielded from as much trauma as possible with the Senate shoving progressively younger weapons onto the battlefield while defending themselves by labeling those suffering in their War as ‘others’.

Wooley has to push those thoughts away when he feels his anger bubbling up again, taking a deep breath to center himself like General Kenobi had taught him. “What’s the last thing you remember, Obi-Wan?”

Blue eyes are sharp, intelligent and calculating, as they scan the conference room that currently held the highest ranking members of the 212th Attack Battalion, then the strange round artifact they had stolen out from under Dooku’s ugly nose. Hesitantly, the boy lowers himself to sit across from Wooley, placing the Force doohickey between his knees to grip the collar around his neck instead, expression intense and thoughtful. The metal makes a small flinch run through the Little’s thin body, and causes something haunted to enter his eyes. “I was on Bandomeer.” Little Kenobi murmurs quietly, and Wooley’s brows furrow. He’s never heard of the planet, but a glance at Commander Cody shows that the older clone has some idea about what it means. “Sir-” Wooley turns his eyes back to the kid, “-why am I here instead?” The little Jedi asks curiously, his confidence growing with every moment that passes without any hostility aimed towards him. Little Kenobi glances down at the artifact, chewing thoughtfully on his lip, the natural curiosity of a child starting to shine through his unease. “Does this have something to do with it? I wasn’t holding it before.”

“Smart.” Wooley says cheerfully, and Little Kenobi ducks his head, a red blush lighting up dirty cheeks. “Yeah - as of approximately ten minutes ago, a thirty-seven year old Obi-Wan Kenobi was standing in this room, studying that doohickey right there. So you can imagine that we’re all a little confused right now.”

Little Kenobi looks completely flabbergasted and even a little awed. “I’m in the future?” He actually looks a little relieved too, and like he was about to cry, Wooley notes with a little alarm. “I - I thought I was going to -” big blue eyes peer around him, misty with unshed tears, lips quivering. “I thought I was going to die down there.” Little Kenobi warbles tearfully.

This breaks whatever thin thread of control the clones in the room had over themselves, and it doesn’t surprise Wooley that it’s the Commander that moves first. His older brother sweeps past him, dropping to his knees next to the child-that-was-their-General with just enough force to make Wooley wince - Cody would be regretting that later when his bad leg started aching. Little Kenobi doesn’t flinch away from him when the Commander reaches for him this time. Instead, he leans into the touch that is offered, tears carving a path through the grime caked onto pale cheeks as Commander Cody gathers him into his arms.

Little Obi-Wan Kenobi looks completely lost, eyes wide and sightless over Cody’s broad shoulder, trapped in whatever memory is haunting him. Then he lets out a heart-wrenching sob, and the small Jedi crumbles into his Commander’s arms with the muffled wail of a hurt, scared child.

[calliecat93]

ST: TNG Watchthrough Episodes 17-20.

Home Soil: So from what I’ve read, this would be Gene Roddenberry’s final episode as showrunner before getting replaced by writer Maurice Hurly. I won’t comment on the behind the scenes drama and such that caused it because it was decades ago and not relevant for a First Watchthrough post, but since this is the last I wanted to make note of it. My thoughts? It was okay. This is very much borrowing from the TOS episode Devil in the Dark (the one with the Horta) with the plot being of an alien presence killing humans... but only because the humans were unknowingly causing it harm. It’s done fine enough, not being any better or worst than when TOS did it, but that’s about it. It does executed it a little differently with the events and the alien is FAR less willing to comply than the Horta was at first and ends with the alien backing down, but refusing contact with humans for three centuries, which DOES make it a nice contrast to how Devil in the Dark ended. It’s not great. It’s not horrible. It’s just okay with the biggest criticism being pulling too much from TOS again. Look, I love TOS and so far TNG hasn’t passed it. I outright have a 30 disc Blu-Ray set coming in the next few days of all the TOS material, including TAS and the films. If I want to revisit TOS, I’ll go watch it or read fanfiction or heck, go watch AOS. TNG has remained painfully average or not good at this point because it’s trying to retain what TOS had, despite it being over 20 years later and even the TOS films had changed how it did things compared to the show. Whatever one feels about Roddenberry, his removal I hope helped push TNG away from TOS and let it carve it’s own identity while still honoring what TOS had stood for, and according to history it did. Not sure if we’ll see the quality go up in these final few S1 episodes, but still. Sorry, felt appropriate to finally get this out here. Going back to the episode, it’s perfectly fine and it delivers it’s message well, and hey it’s not always a bad idea to showcase the same themes as the previous incarnation in a spinoff especially fi a relevant one/gets shown to viewers who hadn’t seen that TOS episode. Not the best, not the worst, and that’s not such a bad way to end up. 3/5.

Coming of Age: Alright Wesley, it took a bit but you’re starting to grow on me. So we have Wesley going through a test to get into the Academy while Picard and the crew are dealing with some rough interrogations and Picard being painted as an incompetent captain by the interrogator. They don’t seem that connected, but infact the latter is a test for Picard to determine if e’s ready for a promotion. I like how they bring up Picard’s actions in past continuity that WOULD present him as at least fallible to major error, ignoring certain conditions that caused it to begin with and how he got them out of the situation. Like I said, this was one of Wesley’s better episodes. While doing well with testing, his worry about the psyche test and not knowing his own fear and therefore worried about what the test will unleash upon him is very relatable. Heck his talk with Worf was a really nice scene, especially with Worf outright stating that only fools fear nothing which in turns add more depth and dimensions to the Klingons. The reveal fo his greatest fear, while I wish he had hesitated a little bit more, made perfect sense and he acted as a true Starfleet Officer. Which since this was before Undiscovered Country, is a VERY positive development. Picard guiding a kid who made a stupid decision was also good and shows why he’s a good captain, and his talk to him as well as encouraging a disappointed Wesley at the end was a nice moment to cap the episode off with. As far as Wesley goes, he may still be presented as too competent and intelligent, but he is more likeable and the testing setting allows him to shine like this without, again, affecting the adult characters. Plus text anxiety is super relatable haha. Now of course due to Status Quo is God, Wesley fails, but he takes it well and proved that he will be ready for it in the future. It was a pretty nice episode all in all. Nothing spectacular, but I enjoyed it, neither plot overpowered the other, had a good theme of one’s integrity as a person/doing your best, good use of past continuity, and it really shows the best in characters like Picard, Wesley, and the crew’s loyalty to the former. 4/5.

Heart of Glory: Back in TOS, the Klingons were depicted as war-loving jerks. They weren’t without some depth and episodes like Day of the Dove did attempt to give them a bit more positive limelight, but it wasn’t enough to overpower the one-dimensional characterization. The films were a bit better, Undiscovered Country especialy, but that one hadn’t been made yet and they still stuck with the ruthless characterization, just changed up the makeup to make them look more alien like. It was weird sicne whenever I ddi watch TNG back when that’s all I knew of Star Trek, Worf never came across like a ruthless warmonger but like an honorable warrior which made him stand-out amongst the cast for me (that and because I freakin’ love Michael Dorn due to his animation voice over work, anyone else remember I.M. Weasel? XD). So now we get an episode where Worf gets to interact with other Klingons. I lift a brow at Worf not knowing about most Klingon customs when he seemed perfectly knowledgeable about i in past episodes. Maybe that wad due tot he shift after getting rid of Roddenberry/ IDK, but these kinds of retcons happens sometimes. This was an interesting one for sure. The Klingons are much better presented here than the entirety of TOS, showing more of their culture/customs and compared to Worf, who was raised by humans and therefore not fully in touch with his people and their ways. This is probably one of, if not the first time he’s interacted with his full culture and naturally he’d want to interact with them and learn more now that he has the chance. There’s the themes of one growing in another culture, how they adapt while still trying to be part of that culture, and finding one’s own path. There is the question on why Worf wans’t just returned tot he Klingons as a child and IDK if they address it down the line, but that type of life and struggle with identity/culture clash due to upbringing IS real and VERY relatable. I’m really glad to see the Klingons fleshed out past their TOS depiction and it’s overall respected by the cast, showing how far things have come since Kirk’s time. It fleshes out Worf’s character a great deal and makes him more likable/relatable and giving him a very realistic struggle, and in the end he stands by his beliefs and even gets the respect and offer to serve with Klingons in the future by Klingon Captain K’Nera. Very much glad that I watched this one~ 4/5.

The Arsenal of Freedom: Oh boy, war machines that killed everything! That theme never gets old! I’m not joking, with how modern warfare and technology are growing and being sold for profit, it feels like it just keeps getting more and more relevant. There’s a lot of tension in this one with Yar, Data, and Riker dealing with the arsenal that is intelligent and they’re unable to be beamed up, the ship getting attacked with Geordi in command and the Chief Engineer (they seem to go through a LOT of those this season, guess they couldn’t handle the strain of acting as miracle workers like Scotty) being an asshole to him, and Crusher injured with Picard trying to keep her alive and not get killed. Seriously, I loved Geordi here for being an effective acting commanding officer during a VERY intense situation AND telling off the Chief Engineer without even so much as raising is voice while encouraging the other officers. Badass and admirable. The away team scenes were also good with everyone being plain awesome~ Crusher having to explain to Picard how to treat her injuries while she’s in obvious pain was really good character stuff and Thank God that they avoided indulging in the obvious shipping fodder. I know they’ve hinted a little at Picard/Crusher... but I’m not really interested in it int he romantic sense at least currently. It comes off as a Captain and CMO trusting the other (not quite the same as say... Kirk and McCoy, but the trust is very much strong here plus Picard and Crusher should be allowed to form their own dynamic) and that’s the kind of interaction I live for~! It feels like everyone got a moment to shine, even Troi checking on Geordi’s mental well-being and letting him express some of his nervousness was really nice. And of course the arsenal having destroyed their own creators... like I said, a theme that just seems to grow more and more in relevance. Like I said above, some themes are necessary to repeat, and this one very much qualifies. But yeah this was great for it’s tensions, the characters being all great especially Geordi, and it’s themes (even fi IDK how intentional it was) being a huge reminder of the dangers of modernized warfare/using warfare for profit. It doesn’t go well. 4.5/5.

Okay, it’s late in the season, but we are FINALLY getting somewhere! The characters have truly grown on me and their characterizations are getting better (i.e. Picard is still a serious captain, but is very much warming up and not as cold as he was early on), the stories are steadily improving, and even with what I said about the first one, I really enjoyed this batch of episodes! Only five remain in the season, and the plan is to knock ‘em all out tomorrow. Might take a day or two off before tarting Season 2, but golly I’m finally feeling excited~!

[strawberrysoup]

Let’s Review || Chapter 2

Peter Parker knew that his big sister would do anything for him to be safe and happy. She’d given up everything for him twice over already and would do it again in a heartbeat. And that’s why, when the criminal mastermind Tony Stark started inextricably following him around, he didn’t say a word. Because he knew without a doubt Penny would do whatever she had to if it meant keeping Peter safe. He had to protect her, just like she always protected him. He never considered what would happen if Stark decided both Parker siblings were worth taking. Never considered who else in Stark’s inner circle would agree. He just wanted to protect her and yet somehow, they both ended up with needles in their necks.

relationship: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character/Bucky Barnes, background Peter Parker/Tony Stark rating: Explicit warnings: Dark Steve Rogers, Dark Bucky Barnes, Dark Tony Stark, Dark Avengers, kidnapping, non-con/dub-con elements, underage Peter Parker, emotional and psychological abuse, very dark, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

 Penny Parker worked, on average, 108 hours a week between three jobs to make ends meet for herself and Peter. His high school, a stupidly expensive private science academy, sucked the majority of her income up each month despite a scholarship. Rent was $1,200 a month, not including utilities. Peter ate like a quintessential teenage boy, which meant a pound of cereal every morning before school and the equivalent in the evenings when he got home from his clubs.

She didn’t sleep much and only had one rotating day off each week. After learning of Peter’s situation with Tony Stark, she slept even less and spent her days off doing any and all research she could into the man and her options for getting Peter away from him. By the time a month had passed since the revelation that her baby brother was being stalked by a super powerful, criminal mastermind pedophile piece of shit, Penny was a wreck of a human being. Even Peter, who was understandably wrapped up in his own head most of the month, had noticed the bags under his sister’s eyes and the harried look she carried about her at all times.

They joked that Penny had taken every bit of chaos from her parents combined genes, somehow managing to leave behind every ounce of intelligence for Peter. She was a walking, talking disaster on the best of days. He’d seen her stick a fork in a toaster, try to mix bleach and vinegar, hell one time she’d come home from work with a sprained wrist because she’d fallen off a ladder stocking some shelves despite the fact someone had been actively holding the ladder to spot her. But this was an entirely new level of disarray from his sister.

Peter could tell that she wasn’t coming up with any solutions that she was happy with. Despite their inside jokes, Penny had a weird sort of intuitive intelligence. She couldn’t do basic math in her head and forget anything to do with science, hell basic reading comprehension could be a trial at times.

What she knew was that Tony Stark had every police department in New York on his payroll, despite the act they put on that “they were doing everything in their power” to gather evidence on the 87 open investigations into him and his company. She knew that he had several politicians under the same thumb, not because it was public knowledge, but because somehow every bill that was put to vote that could be useful to Tony Stark passed into law (or however that sort of thing worked—Penny didn’t understand bills and laws and the senate or whatever, but who really did?).

She knew that the surrounding states were similarly within his range of power. That his companies’ holdings in California meant he had too much control there too. He had holdings in Alaska, Hawaii, and Puerto Rico as well. It wasn’t public knowledge, but Penny could read between the lines when things seemed too good to be true. Or, too good to be true for one Tony Stark. Everything aligned in a way that was so suspicious, she couldn’t figure out why the FBI or CIA or NSA weren’t on to him too.

In the end, all it meant was that nothing Penny did would really matter in the long run. Tony Stark was infinitely powerful in a multitude of states, rich and influential in a way that one person shouldn’t ever have the ability to be. And Penny Parker had $3,000 to her name and a shitty apartment and an even shittier car. Compared to Tony Stark, she wasn’t even good enough to be dirt.

It meant that she had to be more creative. Penny wasn’t smart, but thinking outside of the usually accepted parameters was kind of her specialty. There was no good way to get Peter away from Tony’s sphere of influence, but there were some ways. Maybe just a single way. A very unpleasant, single way that would rip her heart to shreds. But Penny had decided as a 13 year old that she would do everything she could to keep Peter safe and happy and fuck if she was willing to stop now.

***

“Are you still stalking the webcam feed?” Tony wondered if it was possible to push anymore exasperation into his voice as he walked into the main living room only to find Clint once again watching Peter’s empty apartment on the massive TV.

“Something might happen,” it was the same defense the assassin always used when caught in the act, but Tony knew that the blond actually just wanted to catch a glimpse of Penelope Parker.

In all fairness, even Tony could admit that the young woman was rather beautiful. Where Peter’s skin was milky white and freckled, Penelope had a tan that betrayed her father’s Israeli heritage. She was shorter than Peter, held more weight than her lanky but growing brother. Her hair was long and held a natural wave, the same colour as Peter’s. They had the same eye colour as well, but Penelope’s were more narrow and slanted. It wasn’t Tony’s cup of tea, but he could objectively understand the appeal.

In all honestly, Penelope Parker wasn’t his cup of tea as a person. Every time her name popped into his head, he felt a seething rage begin to build in his chest. Penelope fucking Parker, responsible enough to be deemed guardian of the most precious boy in New York but not responsible enough to actually take care of him.

Back when he thought Peter lived alone off his meager inheritance, the living situation had bothered Tony but not enraged him. After all, sure a teenage boy would be fine living in a shit hole if it fit his budget. But no, his sister was the one who made him live in that rat’s nest. His sister, who worked so often it left poor Peter neglected and alone, was the reason he had to walk through dangerous streets to get home at night. His sister.

His fucking sister.

No wonder Peter hadn’t told him he had a sister. She was probably a fucking monster, as selfish and miserable as the goddamn evil stepsister from Cinderella.

He’d caught enough glimpses of Penelope Goddamn Parker in the last month to last him a life time. She and Peter hardly interacted where the webcam could pick up, although sometimes they caught snippets of audio. Mostly, they witnessed just how addicted to the internet she was. She spent more time on her fucking laptop than she did talking to her own brother.

It drove Tony insane, knowing that the longer he left Peter in her care, the more neglected he would be. His baby boy was trapped in an apartment with an uncaring bitch who spent 90% of her time working and the other 10% ignoring him for whatever bullshit Instagram, Facebook nonsense she was so obsessed with. Tony didn’t even bother keeping a record of her internet history, after the first two days of monitoring had revealed she spent the entire time on Youtube.

“Yeah? And has anything happened in the last, oh, 6 hours since she left for work?”

“No but she should be getting home soon—” Clint winced, having walked directly into the trap Tony set like a dumbass.

“Stop watching the bitch on my TV, all you do is stare down her fucking shirt anyway.”

“The bitch would make a pretty decent lay if you’d give a guy a break.”

Tony Stark did not roll his eyes. Tony Stark was a genius, ran a weapons engineering empire, had the most important politicians in the United States in his back pocket. Tony Stark did not roll his eyes.

So Tony Stark Did Not Roll His Eyes at the blond parked out on his couch with a bowl of popcorn and a beer. No doubt there was a cheap ass pizza on it’s way up the elevator, despite the fact Tony employed some of the best chefs in New York for his private kitchen. Clint Barton was the worst sort of best friend Tony had, but he’d still kill for the dumbass.

“What has Penelope Goddamn Motherfucking Parker done now?” Sam Wilson questioned absently as he walked into the living room from the kitchen, quoting Tony’s general tone of voice when talking about the woman.

“She hasn’t even taken her shirt off where I can see it, can you believe that? Fucking ridiculous. With a rack like that she should be shaking her tits on camera for money daily,” Clint whined in response, gesturing to the empty room on the TV, “I swear she sleeps on that fucking couch almost every night and not once has she undressed in front of the computer.”

“You’re a freak, my dude,” Sam smacked the blond upside the head as he walked past towards the elevator, “Time table still on track, Stark?”

“Steady as she goes,” Tony replied, pulling his phone out of his back pocket, “Where are you going? Movie night starts in 20 minutes?”

Movie night was almost the most ridiculous thing Tony participated in on any given day. His inner circle was made up of the only people in the world he trusted, was made of up assassins and ex-military super soldiers and all sorts of genetically altered freaks, and somehow movie night had become a staple of their existence. To miss a movie night without a doctor’s note or a mission was a crime punishable by near exile in the form of a group silent treatment. Pepper, Happy and Pietro were currently exempt, away on a business trip as executive, body guard, and assistant.

“Just going to change,” Wilson gestured to his workout clothes and shrugged, “need to shower.”

“Now if only we could make you realize that needs to happen more than once a month,” Clint muttered quietly, only to have a dirty shoe nail him in the face a moment later.

The blond fell off the couch with a shout, popcorn flying everywhere as the bowl escaped his grip. Sam, who’s aim was almost as impeccable as Clint’s own, gave the man the finger as the elevator doors closed dramatically.

“You are a disaster of a human being,” Tony commented absently, still watching his phone as the little dot that was his baby boy moved through the city.

He ignored Clint’s protests, flopping onto the couch and making himself comfortable while the rest of the tower’s residents slowly ambled into the communal living room. Bucky and Steve were parked out on the recliner, disgustingly cute and cuddly even from a distance. They, like Clint, had a stupid fascination with fucking Penelope and were watching the webcam feed while they waited for everyone to arrive.

Natasha and Wanda wandered in while chatting, each already having a drink in their hand. Thor, Loki and Bruce all came out of the elevator at the same time, Bruce having come from the labs and the two brothers from the coffee shop on the ground floor of the tower. Sam and Rhodey entered at the same time from the stairwell, both having freshly showered after a long day.

“What are we watching tonight?”

The following argument generally lasted a solid 20 minutes, but Wanda and Natasha won out with a comedy horror they’d all already seen before. It left plenty of room for conversation while the movie played in the background, a deck of cards finding their way onto the coffee table as well.

“So what’s the plan for your boy’s sister, Tones?” Rhodey questioned as Sam dealt cards for their third game of poker of the night.

“I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic to get away from the bitch,” the man grumbled in response as he adjusted his hand, “He’d probably walk right out the front door and leave her in the dust if I asked. I figure I’ll give her an ultimatum: Peter comes with me and she shuts the fuck up, or Peter comes with me and she finds herself in a shallow grave.”

“I think I could draw her tits from memory from how often she’s on her computer and ignoring her brother,” Clint stated, because despite the fact he thought Penelope god awful Parker was hot as all Hell, he knew how much it hurt to have the person who was supposed to care for you most ignore you completely.

Rhodey hummed in agreement, “Maybe we should off her, just in case. I bet she gets some sort of welfare from the state for him and she shouldn’t get to keep raking that in.”

“She shouldn’t get it even while she’s got him,” Natasha stated from over her wine, spread out and lounging on the loveseat closest to the couch, “probably uses it for drugs. It definitely isn’t used for groceries to feed to the poor kid, he looks half starved.”

“Nah, that’s just teenage boy syndrome,” Bucky added a couple of bills to the pot on the coffee table, “Not that I think she’s winning any care taker of the year awards, but I’ve seen that him eat while doing surveillance. Kid could take down a whole ass McDonalds by himself if given the chance.”

“He’s been putting on some weight actually,” Tony felt the corners of his lips tip up in a small smirk, “Muscle mass, one of his friends started dragging him to lift weights on Thursdays.”

“Careful Stark, you get too excited by the thought and you’re gonna pop off in your jeans,” a round of snorts sounded at Rhodey’s words and Tony Stark, Who Did Not Roll His Eyes, gave his friend the finger.

“I say we just go ahead and kill her,” Bruce was focused more on his laptop and the reports there in than the movie, but made sure he always paid attention to the conversation during movie nights, “she’s a liability. It might help Peter adjust too, knowing that she’s gone.”

“And that he has nothing left and nothing to go back to,” Clint added, not mean spiritedly but pointedly and with an exaggerated head tilt.

“He won’t have anything left or anything to go back to,” it was pragmatic and a bit cold, but Steve never pulled his punches, “its best to cut all ties. The more he relies on Tony, the faster he’ll adapt to his new situation. Maybe its manipulative, but this is a weird situation and we might have to get our hands dirty to get him to a good place, mentally and physically.”

“By weird you mean kidnapping a kid?”

“For his own good!”

“Its only kidnapping until he turns eighteen, right?”

“I don’t think that’s how the concept of kidnapping works, Clint.”

“Excuse me, sir,” JARVIS suddenly interrupted, turning on the lights and turning off the movie, “I believe it is important that you watch the webcam footage I’ve been monitoring. The recording begins as of five minutes ago and is still ongoing.”

“Pull it up, J,” Tony ordered quickly, sitting forward on the couch.

Everyone in the room watched in confusion as the TV began to roll on Peter and stupid fucking Penelope sitting in front of the laptop, most likely at the kitchen table. Peter was slightly off to the side, the computer centered more on his sister.

“Penny, please just tell me what you’ve decided on? I’ve been watching you lose your mind for weeks, I know you came up with something last night.”

“You’re… not going to like it Peter,” fucking Penelope’s voice was soft, the laptop microphone too shitty to pick up the quiet cadence well, “If you can think of something better, we’ll go with that. But… I don’t think there’s another choice. I’ve gone through everything I can think of. Try to let me get through this without yelling at me, okay?”

They’d never really seen Peter and fucking Penelope interact before. Most of the time it was just her, on the laptop, all the fucking time. Peter came and went in the background, to and from school and clubs and his friend’s houses, but most of the time she closed the laptop when he was around. They were all a bit surprised by how much affection was in her expression as she looked at her brother. Peter nodded at her, lips already pursed in frustration.

“I’ve been doing as much research as I can on Tony Stark. He’s… God, he’s got more influence than the fucking president. There are entire states in his pocket, Pete. Can you believe that? From what I can figure out, he’s got just about every New York senator on his payroll and don’t even get me started on the police—”

“How’d she figure that out?” Rhodey’s frown was a mixture of concern and irritation, “There’s never been any sort of reporting on your dealings with politicians.”

“I don’t know.”

“The good news is, I don’t think he has any business in Oregon. I’ve looked through as much of the gossip as I can, he’s never spent any significant amount of time there and if I’ve been understanding the weird ass insinuations correctly, his businesses don’t operate in the area.”

“Oregon? Are we gonna go there?” Peter reached out and grabbed his sister’s hands, “I promise, I’m not upset over us having to move Penny, I—”

“Peter, I’m… I’m not moving babe, you are.”

The teenager seemed to draw back slightly, his eyebrows furrowing and his mouth dropping open as he searched for words but was unable to come up with any.

“I don’t think you remember them, the last time we saw them was before mom and dad died, but we have second cousins in Oregon, Paul and Olivia. They’re about ten years older than me, with one kid. When I got custody of you, I contacted them. I wanted to make sure that if something happened to me, I had a sure thing lined up for you. It was years ago, but they promised they’d take you in a heartbeat if I couldn’t care for you anymore, for any reason.”

“You… you wanted to give me to them?” Peter’s eyes were full of tears and they watched as Penelope reacted in horror.

“Peter, no! Never! I would never willingly let you go. I was worried, everyone around us was dropping like flies in freak accidents and I couldn’t let you go into foster care if I died. I just wanted to make sure you would have someone if something happened to me.”

“You thought you were gonna die?”

“My birth father died, and then mom and dad died, then uncle Ben, then aunt May. I didn’t want to leave you alone with no one. I didn’t think I was gonna die, I just… wanted to be prepared. Just in case.”

“Why are you bringing them up? And Oregon? What do you mean that I’m moving? Alone?”

Penelope What the Fuck is Happening Parker’s lips pursed, eyes filling with tears. There was a level of sheer pain on her face that was startling for them all to see, especially considering they’d managed to work her up as an unfeeling monster in their heads for fucking weeks now.

“I’ve tried a thousand ways for us both to go, but I just… I don’t have the money saved for us to move. We’d have to break the lease and even if we left with the clothes on our backs, we wouldn’t be able to afford getting to Oregon. The car won’t make it, I can’t afford plane tickets. I wouldn’t be able to afford to get to Oregon. But I’ve figured out a way to get you there.”

“How Penny?” Peter’s was obviously trying to sound stern, but his voice cracked slightly.

“Not tomorrow, but the day after, we’re going to put in an anonymous call to Child Protective Services and claim that I’m abusing you. Neglecting you. They’ll take you out of my custody and send you to Olivia and Paul, since they’re our ‘closest’ living relatives.” Penelope Oh Fuck Parker’s voice was cracking too, tears running down her face as she explained her batshit crazy plan to her baby brother, who they were quickly realizing was far from neglected or abused.

Tony felt his chest tightening at the sight of the siblings, both with tears streaming down their cheeks. He wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get it so incredibly wrong. Maybe he’d seen what he wanted to see, that his baby boy was easy pickings. That no one really cared for him so it would be easy to sweep him off his feet and spirit him away.

“You’ve never abused me! You’ve never neglected me! How could you even say that, Penny!? Everything you’ve ever done—”

“Peter please, listen,” Penny was nearly sobbing, grasping Peter’s hands tightly with her entire body angled downwards over them, “We have to pretend, okay? We have to pretend because they’ll send you somewhere safe.”

“You’ll go to jail!”

“That’s fine! That’s okay, Peter! As long as you’re safe, I don’t care—”

“You can’t ask me to do this, you can’t ask me to send you to jail, to send you away when you haven’t done anything wrong, ever! I wouldn’t even be able to visit you! I’d be a million miles away and you’d be rotting away in jail because I was too stupid to mind my own business!”

“Peter none of this is your fault,” the tone was so stern and determined as Penny sat straighter in her chair, squeezing her brother’s hands reassuringly even as her chest heaved with grief, “it’s that fucking pedophile, piece of shit Tony Goddamn Stark’s fault, don’t you ever think that you are at all to blame for any of this—”

“I probably deserve at least half of that rage,” Tony stated absently, almost guilty at the word ‘pedophile’.

“Half? Hah!” It was an absent response, more instinct than intention but got the point across even as the entire group was absorbed by the pain playing out on the TV.

“I went to that stupid tower!” Peter wailed suddenly, making Penny go stiff, “After you got that note telling you not to report the assault, I went to the tower because I knew he worked there and I wanted him to suffer. You wouldn’t go to the police because they threatened your family but I thought… It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I was stupid and I went to fucking Stark Tower and that’s where he saw me. It’s all my fault.” Peter’s sobbing was viscerally painful to hear, even through the shitty microphone.

“What assault? A note? JARVIS, figure out what he’s talking about!” Tony barked, already on his feet and pulling out his phone, “Give me the surveillance footage from that day, who was my boy here looking for?!”

“As the conversation is roughly five minutes delayed, I took the liberty of deciphering Mr. Parker’s statements already, sir,” the AI stated calmly, “six months ago, Mr. Brock Rumlow of level six security sexually assaulted Ms. Penelope Parker in a club in Queens. In order to prevent any bad press upon the company, a persuasive letter was sent from the Tower’s security to Ms. Parker to ensure her silence on the matter. I assume the day you came across Mr. Parker was the day he arrived to confront Mr. Rumlow over the assault and threat.”

“Find him,” Tony snarled towards Rhodey, who was already on his feet and typing away at his phone, heading towards the elevator, “Alive, Rhodey!”

“I’ll see what I can manage,” the man muttered darkly as the doors shut and he began descending towards level six, leaving the rest of them in the living room.

“He… he saw you… there? Oh, god… Oh god he saw you because you went to the tower, oh my God you went there because of me and he saw you— Oh my God!” Penny’s reaction was so emotionally brutal that it verged on physically violent. Her entire body seemed to lock up for a solid thirty seconds before she threw herself out of the chair and they could hear retching in the background a moment later. Peter was still sitting on the far side of the screen, sobbing into his hands.

Almost five minutes later, Penny ambled back into view. Her face was so pale compared to her usually tan complexion that she looked like a ghost. A fine tremble ran through her entire body, goosebumps visible on her exposed arms.

“I’m so sorry,” Peter’s voice broke through his sobs, bone achingly sad, “I’m so sorry I did this to us.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, bud,” Penny’s eyes were almost blank, the pain so overwhelming that she couldn’t force any other expression, “I set all of this in motion. I made a mistake and I’m so sorry you’re having to pay for it. I should’ve protected you better, you never should’ve even known what happened, let alone who�� it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. Everything is going to be okay Peter. We have a plan and everything is going to be alright.”

“You’re going to go to jail, Penny! For a horrible crime that you’d never, ever commit! Because I was stupid and immature and—”

“Stop Peter,” Tony’s eyes watered as Penny gently ran her fingers through Peter’s hair and left it to rest on his cheek, “don’t blame yourself for this. No matter what you did, no matter what choices you made, you didn’t deserve to be frightened and stalked. What’s happening is happening because there’s a man out there with a sick mind, who thinks he can take whatever and whoever he wants for whatever he wants. That’s not on you, babe. That’s on him. And everyone who built him up and let him get to this point.”

She let Peter cry for several minutes and the group in the living room found themselves left to digest the situation to the sound of his sobs. Discomfort ran through all of them, for different reasons. Because they’d judged Penelope Too Good for This World Parker so wrong. Because they were the ones enabling Tony to do something terrible. Because they didn’t actually feel guilty for enabling Tony but they did feel guilty for the pain it was causing the Parker siblings.

“You’ll take such good care of him, Tony,” Natasha said quietly after a moment, seeing the pain in the man’s face, “He’s never going to want for anything ever again. He’s going to live in comfort and luxury for the rest of his life and that’s because of you.”

“He’s scared right now, Tones,” Clint jumped in quickly when it looked like Tony might protest, “They both are and we can’t blame them for that. But once they’re—he’s here, he’ll realize that it’s not a bad thing and that he has nothing to be afraid of. That we’re going to take care of them—him, all of us.”

Mind running at a million times per hour, Tony considered their words. Actually, he considered Clint’s words. Clint’s misspoken statements that implied both Parker siblings would be in the tower. Both of them would be safe and cared for. Both.

“They’ll never want for anything ever again,” Tony repeated quietly, all eyes in the room locked carefully on him, “Peter and Penny shouldn’t be separated.”

“You’ve given up everything for me, Penny,” Peter whispered after his cries calmed, “You dropped out of high school, dropped out of college, started working three jobs so I could go to that stupid school, you don’t sleep, you hardly eat, and I know it’s all for me. I can’t let you give up your freedom, I can’t let you give up anything else for me.”

“Oh my God no wonder she’s so skinny,” Wanda suddenly gasped, tears pouring down her cheeks in continuous rivers, “we thought Peter was skinny, but look at her, look at her collar bones! JARVIS, give me a record of all credit and debit card transactions she’s made in the last month and—” The redhead cut herself off when Penny began speaking again.

“All I want is for you to be happy Peter,” Penny whispered, the blank look in her eyes fading into grief again, “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to be happy. You’re everything to me, you’re my baby brother. I’ll do anything to keep you safe, bud, anything.”

“I won’t do it, Penny, I won’t—”

“Yes, you will, Peter,” resolve hardened Penny’s voice and she squeezed her brother’s hands, “You’re going to do as I say. Tomorrow you’re going to go to school and I’m going to call out of work. I’m going to throw most of your clothes away, all of the food in the house. I’m going to switch my stuff for yours, so it looks like I make you sleep on the couch while I take the bedroom.”

“Oh God she does sleep on the couch every night,” Professional Perfect Person Penelope Parker Stalker Clint Barton gasped in horror as he recalled his earlier comment on her sleeping habits and her undressing habits oh no.

“I’m going to trash the place as authentically as I can and I’m… God I’m going to destroy some of your stuff, Pete,” Penny looked pained at the thought, scraping a hand down her face, “But I’m going to transfer all of my savings into your name, so you’ll only be without your stuff for a little while. You can rebuy everything you need once this is over.”

“I can’t take your money, Pen—”

“Hush Peter. I don’t have much saved up, but I’ll put it under your name tomorrow. Now, when I turn 25 in a few months I’ll be able to use my portion of the money mom and dad left us. I’m going to transfer that to you as soon as I can, it should be enough for you to live off of once you turn 18 as long as you use it wisely.”

“Penny, please, you can’t expect—”

“I expect you to do as I say, Peter!” She cut him off with all the flare of a bossy big sister, “I want you to apply to universities outside of the United States. Focus on places like Norway, Australia and New Zealand. Avoid Mexico, Canada and the UK because I think he has business dealings in those countries and I don’t know how long he’ll be willing to search for you, so don’t risk it.”

“How does she know about our business in those places?” Tony threw his hands up in confusion.

“Sir, from what I can gather from Ms. Parker’s search history, she has done her best to track yours and your staff’s movements around the world for the last five or so years by means of social media and gossip blogs—”

“Well holy fuck, who would’ve thought to do that?” Sam’s eyebrows were raised nearly to his hairline, “that’s ridiculous, no wonder she was on the laptop constantly.”

“Once you turn 25 you’ll come into your inheritance too. By that time I’ll probably be out of jail but… Peter I want you to leave me alone, okay? We don’t know… we don’t know if Stark will let this go, if he loses you. He might use my location and contacts to find you and I can’t let that happen.”

“You want me to just cut you out of my life forever? Like you’re some horrible monster I never want to see again? I can’t—”

“We don’t have a choice bud,” Penny was quiet, soothing as she ran her fingers over his wrists and hands, “Tony Stark is a dangerous man and he has more connections and money than we could ever hope to fight. The police won’t help us, the law won’t help us. All we have is this plan and I need you to follow it. I need to be able to trust that you’ll follow the plan, so that you’ll be safe.”

“What about you, Penny!? You won’t be safe! You’re always so worried about, about me being safe and happy that you forget about yourself! Do you understand that you’re telling me you want to go to jail? That you want me to abandon you forever?”

Penny seemed to waiver for just a second, as if she might actually let some tiny ounce of selfishness set in and change her mind, before her resolve hardened once again and she stood, putting herself nearly out of frame, “This is happening, Peter. This is the plan. This is what we’re doing. Because I won’t let him hurt you. I will literally do anything to keep you safe Peter, this doesn’t even make a wave in the pool of batshit crazy I’m willing to go if I need to. I love you. Now go to bed, you have school in the morning.”

[thedefinitionofbts]

Upon Your Existence (3)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3

Pairings: Jeon Jungkook x Reader (ft. the rest of BTS)

Genre: Science Fantasy, Angst, Apocalypse Au

Words: 7K

Description: …and so they just meet each other in these stories written inside these worlds built in their minds. Of course some will be sad, and others happy, but that’s just the way the universe is…chaotic, imperfect, but magnificently beautiful.  

You’ll always remember his eyes, a pair of dark obsidian orbs, cloudy and unreadable to many but to you they were always crystal clear like the polycrystalline structure of black diamonds.

“Hurry, we need to go!” He beckons urgently as you remained huddled in the corner of your bedroom closet, arms wrapped around your legs and chin resting on the caps of your knees.

“Where’s mommy and daddy?” You peer up at your older brother, eyes wide and stricken with fear.

It was already dark outside. The bright glow of blue and red lights flicker through the glass windows, ricocheting off the walls of the room your parents once read you bedtime stories in. You can hear the voices of police officers and military personnel through the loud speakers, advising everyone to evacuate the city.  

“They’re waiting for us, come on.” Yoongi responds more softly, flashing you a tender smile, one that you have witnessed more than anyone else, giving you more than enough strength to latch on to his extended hand.

You were just nine years old when news of the first outbreak was broadcasted over the television. At the time, it had not occurred to you how strange it all was, or perhaps it did, but it was all too confusing to even begin questioning any of it. You knew nothing about viruses or the spread of diseases in general, but after moving to the designated “safe haven” for your district and continuing your education through your teens, some things have naturally come to light.

Like back in high school chemistry, when your teacher demonstrated the effects of acid on protein to show students how you could go blind if it got in your eye. It was simply to remind everyone to wear goggles, but you’ll never forget the way the drop of HCl seared the egg white, making the fluid bubble up and solidify instantly. You imagine the virus doing the same to human flesh, only with a more complicated mechanism that had less to do with altering the structure of existing proteins and more to do with actually changing gene expression.

It only takes one person. One mutation. One strand of viral DNA to contaminate it all.

It almost sounded too easy, and though the official announcement stated the virus originated in the jungle off the coast, countless people had suspected it was actually developed by the government, a biological weapon gone awry. It wasn’t until over a decade later that it became quite clear, though still unofficial since the elite would never admit to such a horrendous act publicly, that everything was more or less planned as a means to control the population.

So no, the virus did not entail the end of the world. The world government had actually done a pretty job controlling it. How could they not since they planned it all anyways? But of course, if the world wants to end, it’ll find a way to end.

That, you had also learned through a news broadcast.  

“Karma” Hoseok exhales, twisting the key and turning off the engine.

“Hoseok, it’s not Karma if the top 1% still survive.” Yoongi mumbles, stepping out of the passenger door and stretching out his back.  

“The biggest fuck you would be if the comet just disintegrates right before it strikes.” Hoseok scoffs. “If only…”

You ponder the possibility of this all being a false positive. “Maybe it’ll miss Earth, and everyone will have evacuated the planet for no reason at all.” It’s a joke, but not the funny kind. You know it’s impossible, but you didn’t really say it for the purpose of anyone agreeing with you or even refuting the statement, considering the nonexistent possibility.

“Maybe…” Hoseok exhales, not entirely paying attention to what he was even responding to but rather just blankly gazing at the open field with its tall grasses swaying in the wind.

Yoongi remains silent. He has been the whole trip for the most part, and in a way, his nonchalance was peaceful and reassuring as it had always been for you growing up.

But this is it. This is where you part ways.

It’s a strange feeling, really. You’ve always imagined this moment to be more emotionally overwhelming, saying goodbye to your brother forever and all. He was the only person you’d ever really trusted, and the only other person who has felt like the closest thing to home, a place that never really existed, and even if it did, it won’t for long. Maybe habituation, or months of convinced acceptance has left you numb, or maybe it's the effect of building something so much up in your head that the actual experience doesn’t live up to what you’ve expected all this time.

“Are you sure?” Yoongi’s voice is low and subdued. He doesn’t make eye contact as he awaits your response, and perhaps it’s because he’s never questioned your personal decisions or the fact that he’s directly expressing his concern for you that you find yourself hesitating for the first time in months.

Did he invite you on this trip hoping you would change your mind in the end?

The thought makes your heart clench, and you have to tell yourself you’re overanalyzing. Yoongi wasn’t the kind to hint at what he wanted. He always directly expressed his thoughts no matter how offensive or uncalled for they are. You’ve always admired him for that sort of bravery, so it wouldn’t make sense for him to change now. Besides, you had made up your mind half a year ago, ever since you saw the timer flash across the T.V. screen.

Six months was how long they gave the general population to decide. Either you were rich enough to leave earth or you had to come to terms with the end. They had known about it years in advance, and though it’s unclear whether or not the planned viral outbreak was related to the detection of the comet’s trajectory, what’s undeniable is that they had kept everyone in the dark to avoid chaos.

You had no interest in space, nor did you want to be a part of a system so cruel. Yoongi didn’t either, not initially, but you weren’t going to blame him for meeting a boy who was the literal manifestation of the sun, someone who could make his heart beat in ways it never did.

“Your spot will always be open” Hoseok chimes in with his bright sunshine of a smile, and you can almost feel a fraction of what Yoongi feels when he sees it too.

“There’s more I want to see before it’s too late.” It’s not like you were alone. There were millions of other people staying on the planet- those who couldn’t afford a ticket on the escape ship.

Yoongi nods lightly, turning to walk up the steps to join Hoseok, who was already at the top still looking at you standing below, perhaps also hoping you would change your mind. Even now, you can see the softness in the latter’s eyes, the tangibility of the warmth that he radiates, and you have no trouble understanding why your bother fell for him.

And that’s the last image you see of the two. Hoseok’s melancholic gaze and the slight upturn of Yoongi’s lip as the doors close.  

…

There’s a certain kind of calmness that accompanies solitude, even when the entire world is ready to burst under suppressed chaos. There’s also a strange detachment that comes with wanting to do everything while at the same time not wanting to do anything at all because none of it mattered anymore.

Stepping onto the train, you immediately get a whiff of the stench of sweat and body odor, the kind that tells you you’re not the only one who thought spending the next few days just gazing at the world was a good way to ride through the end. Most of the seats were taken, homeless people with all their bags large and small, scattered across the floor. You almost trip on someone’s sleeping bag as you navigate down the aisle, looking for a less crowded cart, which you are fortunate enough to find just as the train begins to move.

Settling down in the seat closest to the window, you momentarily let your eyes dwell on someone sitting a couple seats away. His attention was focused on the scenery outside, but he somehow sensed the weight of your scrutiny as he turns just as you were about to lean to get a better view.    

You barely avert your gaze before he catches you staring, though you’re pretty sure he noticed because the next thing you know, he’s made his way over and is now seated across from you. Despite the sudden proximity and the bout of nerves it has initiated, you choose to keep your attention pointed at the passing scenery now zipping by in parallel with the train’s increasing speed.  

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” His voice is light with a deep, husky undertone that glides through the air.  

You look up to find that he isn’t even looking out the window. You swallow, finding it bizarre that he’s staring at you so intently. “Indeed.”

“Traveling?”

You nod.

“Going anywhere in particular?” He tilts his head curiously; a motion almost child-like in nature and it makes you relax for the first time since you started this solo venture.

“Nope.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges. “So your plan was to just sit on this train and look out the window?”

“Pretty much, yeah” You shrug, sensing your anxieties dissipate as he does not seem to pose a threat of any kind.

He chuckles softly. “But don’t you want to go out there and really feel the earth. Really experience being alive on this planet one last time?”

“It’s dangerous.”

“It’s the end of the world. What do you have to lose?”

He was right, and your excuses don’t even sound convincing to yourself anymore.

“So what exactly are you proposing?”

“This train loops around the entire continent. I say we get off at each stop and do one thing we’ve always wanted to do.”

“We?” You’re thrown off by how easily he placed the word in his sentence. How he didn’t even hesitate to include you in his spur of the moment proposal.

He nods.

“Together?” You ask again, still skeptical.

He laughs softly; looking down and back up again with a playful smirk.

“What if we want to do different things?” You counter, still unsure why you are playing along with this stranger who hasn’t even introduced himself. 

“Ok. We’ll get off at each stop and do one thing you’ve always wanted to do.”

“You’re sure putting a lot of bets on someone you don’t even know.” You comment, waiting to see how he’s going to react.

There’s a peculiar look in his eyes, one that speaks of anticipation precipitously lost to the wind. He drops his gaze momentarily, smiling to himself before looking up at you once more.  

“Or you could say I’m going all in on someone I would like to get to know.” There’s cheerfulness in his voice that you haven’t heard in a long time, an unfamiliar yet heart racing aura of beginnings rather than the familiar imminent end that has surrounded your life for months. It makes you smile, but you can’t help but notice the sad glint in his eyes merely seconds before it’s gone.

“I…actually haven’t really thought about what I want to do.” You confess, diverting your attention to the landscape outside. Your life had always been planned. Whether it was wandering down paths that others had led you towards or the world leaving you no alternative option, you had never been offered the freedom of uninhibited choice. It was like the events had already been written, and you were just living it out like a character in a story everyone already knows the end to.

“Maybe you shouldn’t think about it.” His voice startles you, making you realize you had paused mid conversation.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve found that overthinking leads to indecisiveness.” He tilts his head, analyzing your reaction as if waiting for a specific response.

“I’m not indecisive, and I don’t overthink.” You deny, despite knowing full well you are and have always been.  

He doesn’t look convinced. “Ok, then you’re afraid of regrets?”

“I’m just…I dunno…scared?”

He nods, displaying that he understands what you mean. “But you are here now, so you must’ve found some source of courage.”

You wouldn’t really consider your decision to stay on earth courageous. To you it was more like the final act of rebellion you had the chance of carrying out, not that you ever came close to rebelling in the past.

“Well?” The train has stopped, and you can tell he’s waiting for you to decide to get off with him or not.

It’s not forceful or pressuring in anyway, but communicates an air of patience you find to be very comforting. And there’s something about the way he speaks to you, the way he gauges your response as if he already knows what you’re about to say that inclines you to believe he knows more about you than logically possible for someone you just met. Maybe you were just easy to read, or this guy is just really good at reading social cues. Whatever it may be, you had two seconds to make your decision, and if the past has taught you anything, you already know that there’s no turning back.

…

Getting off the train, you’re surprised by the number of people still around and the cultural music dancing through the air. You expected the city to be less crowded and the mood to be more somber, a scene that makes the end of the world more obvious, in what way you weren’t sure, but definitely nothing close to what you were currently presented.  

“They’re just here, like us, enjoying these last days.” He blinks slowly, somehow able to tell that the scene has left you dumbfounded.

“I guess I just expected something different” You reply, still looking around at the people laughing and chatting away in the outdoor seating areas of restaurants and coffee shops.  

“Only 1% of the population left, and most of them probably didn’t live in old towns like this.” He glances at you from under the sunhat he had put on right after exiting the train.

His response puts a smile on your face. A picture of a smiling Hoseok and Yoongi flashes through your mind as you are remembered how they spoke about the privileged. It had been a long time since your mood has felt this light.

“So are you going to properly introduce yourself? Or am I going to have to ask you questions?” You narrow your eyes, feeling mischievous all of a sudden.

He laughs, eyes crinkling at the edges again. “It’s the end of the world. I could tell you anything and it wouldn’t even matter.” He skips a few feet ahead of you before twirling around and offering you his hand.

You’re surprised by your own lack of hesitation as you reach out almost instinctively.

“Wow, that was easier than expected.” He comments, referring to how quickly you accepted his offer compared to your obvious indecision back on the train, eyes almost wide as he gives your hand a light squeeze, making sure that it was indeed real, and his eyes weren’t just playing tricks on him.  

“It’s the end of the world.” You shrug, repeating the words he had been reiterating since the two of you met. An unfamiliar fullness engulfs your heart, and you wonder if the boy next to you feels it too. You don’t remember the last time you had held someone’s hand like this or if you had ever held a hand that fit to yours so perfectly.  

“Jungkook.” He suddenly breathes out, probably noticing the way you’ve been staring at your interlinked hands like he would suddenly let go or disappear into thin air.

“Huh?” You look up almost dazed.

“My name. It’s Jungkook.” He smiles, gripping your hand a bit tighter.

“Oh, um, I’m Y/N.” You response almost awkwardly, unprepared for his sudden revelation of sorts, trying to recall why the name seemed familiar while at the same time knowing with the utmost certainty you had never known a person with that name.  

He bobs, the expression on his face making you almost suspect that this wasn’t new information to him.  

“So what would you like to do, Miss Y/N?” He gestures at the completely foreign town, the lake and mountains not too far in the distance.

“I don’t know.” You reveal truthfully, not having thought this far yet. You were kind of just banking on intuition, but you were so caught up analyzing him along with your own shifting disposition that you hadn’t actually thought about the actual world and what you wanted to do. “With the virus and all, I had never made a bucket list or anything. I just assumed I would never get a chance to come to places like this anyways.”

“Even when it was nearly eradicated?”

“Then came this whole comet ordeal.” You sigh. “End of the world, remember?”

“Not like I could forget.” He starts swinging your interlinked arms causally. “Shall we just walk around then? Explore some abandoned buildings that may or may not be haunted.”

“You can’t seriously believe in ghosts, can you?” You cock a brow. “In this day and age?”

He cackles. “I was just testing you.”

“Sure you were” You flash him the look, but it doesn't last before you’re consumed by his contagious laughter.

It wasn’t long before the two of you stumble upon a rather decent looking lodging facility, not that you were looking for anything fancy. The walls were made of stone, a suitable complement to the cobblestone roads you had been walking along since leaving the train station, with ivy crawling up the sides and lining the windows. The building gave off the impression that it was an affordable choice for two broke travelers, not that money really mattered anymore.  

“We should probably put some of our stuff down and explore the city.” Jungkook suggests, looking up from the map on his phone.

You exhale slowly, almost having forgotten how heavy your backpack weighed on your shoulders. The sun had moved to the middle of the sky, causing beads of sweat to form and start sliding down your forehead. It wasn’t extremely hot, but you had opted to wear a few extra layers in an attempt to keep your bags a bit lighter.

Following him into the lobby, you don’t expect Jungkook to arrange a room for you as well, but he comes back with two keys to two separate rooms.

“Thanks” You voice softly as hands one of them to you.

“It would probably be safer to stay in the same room, but I don’t want you to think I’m some perverted stalker trying to take advantage of you.”  

You smirk before failing to contain your own laughter. “I already assumed you were.”

He rolls his eyes. “Just let me know if you need anything, ok?”

You nod, glancing at him one last time before heading towards your room. He seemed concerned, or his mind was thinking about something else.

The room smelled moist and musky, with an almost rotten scent, like it hadn’t been cleaned in quite some time. Not that you were expecting some pristine hotel room or sterilized classroom like the facilities back in the cities during the viral outbreak, but it was pretty clear the place hadn’t been tidied in weeks. The bed sheets were unwashed, and the trash bins hadn’t even been emptied.

You walk over to open a window, hoping the air outside would somehow neutralize the pungent odor. Just as you were contemplating going over to suggest exploring the markets, you hear a knock at your door.

“Who is it?” You call out, hoping that it was just Jungkook coming back to check up on you.

There’s no answer, but you can hear the pounding get louder, like whoever was on the other side was trying to break down the door. There’s a loud crack as the wooden door pane splinters, the rusty knob just falling off and rolling across the floor. You’re frozen in place, eyes full of fear as you stare at the large man standing at the entrance.

He slowly walks towards you with a frown on his face, blocking your view of the hallway and only escape.

Before you could scream, you hear a loud bang and the next thing you know, the man was on the ground. Your eyes immediately dart up and to your uttermost relief, you see Jungkook with a lamp clasped in his hand, eyes wide with alarm.

“We need to get out of here” He exhales, quickly grabbing your hand and making a run for it.

You don’t get a chance to look back, all you can focus on is keeping up with Jungkook’s speed as he leads you back out to the street and navigates through the crowds of people.

“Wha-how did you…?” You look at him and back in the direction the two of you ran from, mind still reeling from the hasty course of events.  

“It was my bad really, I should’ve know most places aren’t safe anymore.” He shakes his head, looking around at the people still gathered in large crowds when you’re finally at a safe distance from the lodge. “Maybe that’s why everyone is here out in the open.”

“Hey, it’s ok, we’re fine and there’s only like three weeks left anyways” You give his hand a tight squeeze, unsure of why you felt so compelled to make him feel better. Perhaps it was the sadness in his eyes, something you can’t seem to ignore because it looked so familiar yet you’re unable to comprehend it fully.

He sighs. “Three weeks…are you the type who prefers to count down?”

You want to forget about it, to not be constantly reminded that the world you once knew is gone and these last moments will soon be swallowed in the same way. But no matter how hard you try to ignore the thought, it’s always there at the back of your mind, a subconscious countdown that keeps showing up intermittently.

“I just want to be as prepared as possible, and I don’t like surprises.”

“Somehow that’s not so surprising.” He smiles for the first time in a while, and you don’t miss the hint of playfulness in his words. It’s reassuring and quells some of your anxiety.

“You don’t seem to mind this whole ordeal.” You suddenly blurt out. Ever since you met this dark haired doe-eyed Jungkook, he’s seemed so…okay with everything, like the end of the world was some kind of adventure and not a dark and dreary end to existence.

He cocks a brow. “Almost getting us into some deep shit back there?”

“No, the fact that we have three weeks left, and then it’s over.” You exhale, letting out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding in for so long and finally feeling that weight being lifted off your chest.

His features relax as he turns to face you. “I’m looking forward to what lies beyond the end and in the meantime, making the most of what we are given now.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, and there are so many questions you want to ask, but the determined look in his eyes makes you wonder if you’re missing something deeper, something he wants to convey but is waiting for you to reach your own conclusion.

“Beyond the end?”

He chuckles lightly. “Like how people say endings give birth to new beginnings?”

“You sound like my mom.” You huff, knowing that he’s just playing around again and avoiding the real answer to your question.

“Do you miss her?” He suddenly asks.

“She was never really around much. Neither was my dad.” There’s an extended pause as Jungkook waits for you to continue, almost like he senses there’s more you want to say. “My brother Yoongi was my rock, the only person in my life that I could turn towards for guidance like an actual parental figure. My parents were loving and all, but being adopted, they were just nice picture parents. They didn’t offer me the kind of depth I needed. And my brother, you know, was older and I’m sure he didn’t think much of it at the time, but his advice was something I always took seriously, whether it was subconscious or not. His opinions impacted a lot of my decisions in life…” You trail off, thinking back to all the decisions you had made because Yoongi had expressed some form of bias towards it and still question to this day if they were the right ones. It’s not like you had that many regrets, but you can’t help but wonder if your life would’ve turned out differently had you made more choices independently. “You know I could’ve just said fuck it and did the thing I actually wanted to do.”

“Well, here’s your chance.”

…

The two of you decide that the safest place to sleep is the train.

Though it was often crowded and smelled of human sweat, it was still better than figuring how to set up a tent or having to climb a tree. And after the incident at the lodge, neither of you really wanted to risk it again. Besides, spending one or two days in one city is more than enough to grab some local food and do some sightseeing. You also realize that all of the towns sort of start blending into one another, like the days you’re still trying not to countdown. You’ve gotten to the point where it doesn’t bother you as much, at least not when you’re with traveling with someone you’ve grown too fond of too quickly, but in the best way ever.  

“I guess I really didn’t think any of this through, but none of it really matters now, does it?”  

You were trailing behind him in the orchard, the sun’s rays filtering through the leaves casting moving patterns on the ground. Spending the past few days visiting gardens and vineyards had been more fun than you had expected. The fruit was sweet and the flowers were bright and lively. Each farm you visited looked to stretch on for miles and miles, twisting and twirling along the hills and rivers. You had always been told that beauty existed in the most unexpected of places, and you were finally given the chance to witness it for yourself.

“You know there’s no point in living every day thinking about the fact that you’re going to die anyways.” He takes a bite of the apple he just picked off of one of the lower branches of the tree. The sound so crisp and juicy, you can feel your mouth salivating.

You release a light chuckle. “You’re telling me this when it’s literally the end of the world?”

He turns to toss you an apple. “I’m advising you to stop thinking about endings.”

Catching it in your hands, you stare at the intermingled colors for a moment, red, yellow, and a tad bit of green merging but never really mixing to become one. Taking a bite you realize its sweetness is lace with a tangy after taste, like those bittersweet endings you’ve come to know so well.  

“I used to come to these places filled with so many thoughts on how to remember the details that I forget to enjoy the actual experience.” You pause, taking the time to decide if you wanted to continue.

Jungkook doesn’t make a sound, no signal to hint that he was going throw in commentary or interrupt your train of thought. You turn to glance at him, wondering if he’s wrapped in his own contemplation, only to find that he just looking at you, staring so intently you have to look away as you feel the blood rush to face.

“You’re still afraid of losing your memories, huh?”

It leaves his lips as a whisper, so soft that you are compelled to believe he was just mumbling to himself. You want to linger over his interesting choice of words, but you try not to think much of it and continue.

“So I tried to reason that if the journey is what we should be focusing on, I should just set goals that I’ll never reach. That way I wouldn’t have to deal with endings or being directionless in life.” You laugh. “And of course that backfired.”

“Continuously chasing after something you’ll never obtain?” He tilts his head towards the sun, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

You observe his side profile, visually drawing the outline of his silhouette and carving the image of his physical form into your brain knowing that it will last only as long as the end of time will allow.

“I just don’t like endings…or goodbyes…or even the thought that this is all there is to it.” You murmur, shifting your eyes back to the ground.

“There’s always more too it than you think.”  

“And then I read somewhere that people don’t remember what you do but they remember how you made them feel.” You don’t know where you’re going with your outburst of thoughts, and maybe the diminishing days are convincing you to let it all out before it’s too late no matter how nonsensical everything you are saying is.  

The breeze blowing by emphasizes the brief silence that follows, in which only the gentle rustling of leaves can be heard. You don’t know what else to say. You’ve never gotten this far in a conversation where your thoughts have been unhindered and you hadn’t planned an entire speech out. At this point you’re just waiting for him to respond, to tell you that you should stop thinking about uselessly irrelevant things or at least question why you’re telling him all this.

You watch as he turns to face you, not having realized you had closed the distance between you whilst ranting. He was so close you can almost feel the light brush of his shirt as it lifts up slightly in the wind and the heat of his body radiating off his smooth skin. His gaze is distracting. It’s something you’ve learned over the past week and then some. The way his dark pupils twinkle mysteriously almost mimicking those of someone’s you will never forget, but there’s something different about his. His eyes reflected the sunlight like there were stars inside.

You’re so enraptured by his beauty that you don’t realize he’s reduced the remaining space between the two of you to almost nothing, lips just millimeters away now. Without another thought, you lean forward and kiss him, mouth clumsily crashing with his. You can feel his lips curve into a smile as he kisses you back much in a much more composed and practiced manner, like he has done it a million times before, only you know that’s not possible. He breaks free temporarily only to murmur one sentence in response.

“I’ll always remember the way you made me feel.”

…

Time starts to fluctuate in ways you begin to lose track of.

Sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night confused about where you were and frantically searching for something to calm your racing thoughts. You have dreams about different phases of your life, places you’ve been, people you used to know, only they are distorted in ways that make them almost unrecognizable. And then when you try to dig them up from your memories, you find that they are lost and everything has changed.

Now you find solace in the moonlight pouring through the curtain windows of the train and the solidity of Jungkook’s hand intertwined with yours as his jacket covers both of your bodies. The way he never leaves your side is unusual for someone you didn’t even know existed until about two weeks ago, and yet he gives you no reason to doubt that he would ever leave.

It’s something you’ve too grown familiar with, the scent of his body and the warmth of his smile. And as you walk the streets of foreign cities, navigating through crowds of strange people whose faces you won’t even remember, you choose to inscribe the details of his features in your memoirs, the softness of his skin, the width of his shoulders, the veins on his forearms...

You’ve learned that he enjoys gazing at large bodies of water, lakes, rivers, and oceans, which is why you find yourself on the beach at the last stop of your journey.

“Would it make sense to say I’ve always liked being alone, but I’m not too fond of being lonely?”

He takes a minute to contemplate your seemingly contradictory statement.

“Makes perfect sense to me.” He absentmindedly tosses a seashell at the incoming wave. It’s swallowed instantly, and all you can focus on is the foamy ripples that wane back into the seemingly endless blue. “I think what makes us feel lonely is being with people who don’t really understand us, and that doesn’t happen when you’re alone since you’re just by yourself. ”

“Wow, you’re the first person who hasn’t just told me I’m just being anti-social…well, technically the second.” You smile, breathing out slowly. “I think you and my brother, Yoongi, would’ve gotten along pretty well.”

“Did he leave?”

You nod, recalling the last image of him still safely tucked away in your memories.

“And you wanted to stay to enjoy these last few weeks.”

You arch a brow, having expected him to ask why you didn’t leave rather than stating the exact answer you would’ve given him had he asked.

“How’d you guess?”

He laughs. “I figured, since you don’t seem bothered wasting all this time with me.”

“True.” You smile. “Although I wouldn’t call it wasting…”

The salty sea breeze is something you definitely didn’t have the luxury of smelling growing up. This is your first time visiting the beach, first time seeing the ocean. Each day you’ve spent on this adventure of sorts with Jungkook has been a first…and a last now that you think about it.

“You’re right. I couldn’t have asked for a better end to life on earth.”

…

Home.

It’s not a concept you are familiar with in the traditional sense. It’s not a feeling you’ve experienced first hand nor is it a place you’ve truly been to.

But looking into Jungkook’s eyes you can see it.

You can see it in the way he looks at you, the way he embraces you in his arms not because it's the end of the world and there is no one else to hold, but because it's where you belong and neither of you would have it any other way. 

“This can’t be it.” You choke out, already losing yourself to the rush of tears, though you had tried so hard to keep it together until the end. “W-we j-just met…”

He doesn’t say anything, but instead holds you tighter.

“I never even asked you anything about yourself. All I did was ramble on and on about me, throwing all my stupid thoughts out there like any of it mattered.” You’re tears won’t stop. You had always hated endings; putting the utmost effort into not caring so you wouldn’t have anything you were afraid of losing. But you just couldn’t do it. Not with him.

He flashes you one last smile as he gently cups your tear-streamed cheeks in his hands, a gesture that is not overpowered by a deep sense of hollowness but rather reflects an almost peaceful ray of hope.

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”

…

...

“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched him die. I just remember always crying until I have no tears left to shed. But he always gives me that reassuring look, with those stars in his eyes and that twitch of his soft lips like it isn’t the last time, that we’ll for sure meet again.” You release a trivial laugh, already feeling the effects of the alcohol. “Of course, I never pick up on it until I’m about to wake up.”

The bar was dim and comparably quiet, being that it was only you and Namjoon sitting at the counter. It was a Monday night, not exactly the best of days to get drunk, but it’s not like you really cared, though you probably should. You had invited the entire lab out for dinner to celebrate the publishing of your most recent paper, which turned out quite pleasant and ended roughly an hour ago. All the other students and professors had gone home.

“He’s always waiting.” You murmur, staring at the shot glass in front of you, still talking as if you were by yourself, reiterating the words that continuously circle back in your head.

Namjoon looks up, startled by your sudden comment after a lengthy pause.

“I never have to look for him because he always comes back to me.” You scoff, bringing the glass up to your lips, tilting your head, and letting the liquid burn down your throat. “And then when I react like I’ve just met him for the first time, he just flashes that gentle smile of acceptance like I didn’t just break his heart.”

Your bottom lip quivers, and before you know it, tears are streaming down your face. God, you feel ridiculous.

“And that happens every time?” Namjoon’s voice is barely a whisper, his eyes focused on his own glass.

“Never misses a beat.” You sniffle softy, picking up a napkin to dot away your tears. “I thought I was ok, but I guess I am insane.” You laugh pathetically.

“I understand. He means a lot to you.”

“He’s the kind of forever that never changes, the kind of time that does not reach an end just to continue that moment you’ve always wanted to last for an eternity.” You don’t even know what’s gotten into you, and though you’re aware of the mess you must look like right now, you can’t seem to pull it together.

There’s a long pause, and nothing but the sound of stifled music and distant footsteps can be heard.

“Professor Y/L/N, I know it’s not my place to be curious about your personal life, but can you really not think of a single person that resembles him, whether it is in the past or now?” Namjoon voice is more desperate than he probably intended, but any could tell you were not being quite yourself.

A forced smile makes it’s way to your lips as you shake your head. “He was always exactly what I needed. He was always too good to be real.”

“It’s not impossible.”

“It’s bad to be too dependent on other people.” You flash him an amused look, not really knowing what you are saying anymore as your head begins to spin from the alcohol. “And please, please, don’t get me wrong. I’m not weak or insecure.”

Namjoon doesn’t respond, sensing your tipsiness.

“It’s not that he gives my life meaning or that he makes me feel complete.” You run your hands through your hair, trying to keep your cool, but anyone could tell you’re losing it. “He’s the only truth in a world of lies. Even when I’m not aware that everything around me is merely a dream, he always feels like the only thing that is real, and for him I would be content never waking up because the rest of reality doesn’t even matter. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve long learned to be independent and logical, to refrain from getting lost in dreams, relying on others, and carrying expectations that will only result in disappointment. I’ve practiced the art of self-love for all my life, and I’m fine. My life has purpose, and I am complete the way I am.” You release a shaky breath, palms feeling cold and clammy. “I’ve always felt that I’ve had everything and yet… he offers more.”

You look up to meet Namjoon’s eyes that are nothing but sympathetic.

“How could I not want more?” You croak, beginning to cry again. “I’m so greedy.”

That’s what it is. Always wanting more, never feeling like what you have is enough. When will you learn to be grateful for what is and stop trying to obtain what is not yours to begin with?

“You are not greedy.” Namjoon’s voice is discreet, but firm. “You’re afraid to believe of his existence.”

Your eyes shoot up to meet his. “Because I know he doesn’t exist.”

“Then why do you keep going back?” His question is not for the purpose of attacking you or for blatantly calling you out for something you’ve been guilty of for years, but it catches you off guard, and you suddenly find yourself exposed… vulnerable.

“My research” You reply dryly, maintaining a steady voice amidst the fable you’ve been repeatedly telling everyone who’s ever asked. “I don’t really have a choice.”

Namjoon doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t try to force the truth out of you even though he knows exactly why. “No, I mean, why does your mind subconsciously always go back to him?” He murmurs, staring at the table solemnly.

His query once again seizes you in unfamiliar territory, and for the first time, you don’t know what to say or at least can’t come up with an answer that will not expose the true reason you’ve been experimenting. Because you know Namjoon is right.

You just don’t know how right he is.  

...

[elisaphoenix13]

A Sick Tell

The family had a tell when they were sick. Tony zoned out in the lab when he was supposedly 'working', Stephen napped in the middle of the day, Peter and Harley tried to hide it even though Stephen would immediately find out, and Diana immediately called for one of her parents. Then there were the Avengers. Most of them were smart enough to admit they were sick and stay in bed, but there were those that weren't so smart. Scott and Quill being among them. Scott's tell was someone finding him sitting cross-legged on the island counter and taking some electrical thing apart. It was usually something small and fixable like the tv remote. Quill on the other hand...well no one even knew he could actually get sick. Drunk, sure...but not sick. They got a scare when they first found out too.

Namely, Quill arrived on the family floor looking a little dazed (which was understandable because it was still pretty early), and stumbled over to the fridge. Stephen was immediately on alert because the moment the pirate passed behind him, he could feel the heat. Quill was like a walking furnace. Stephen watched him grab a can of whipped cream and make his way over to the living room where he promptly fell back onto and fell asleep.

"Victor...give me Quill's temperature please." Stephen asks his AI calmly.

A few beats pass before he responds. "One hundred and five Doctor."

"What?! Call Bruce and--"

"He's stable. According to my data, his fever is equal to a regular human fever of one hundred and two." Victor interrupts and Stephen sighs.

"His Celestial genes...right. Let me know if anything changes."

Then Stephen started on some soup before taking back the can of cream through a small portal and returning it to the fridge. The only reaction he got was a groan of relief when he took a cold washcloth over to Quill and placed it on his forehead. With a small spell, the cloth would stay cold and wet and would hopefully help as long as Quill didn't move and dislodge it. Not that he was going to do much moving now. Based off the quiet rumbling coming from Quill's spot on the couch, he was out cold despite being sick, but that was good. He was getting actual sleep. Stephen would just have to keep the floor quiet. He wasn't going to risk waking the man up by trying to portal him back down to bed, especially since Scott was out of town. That was probably the only reason Quill came up in the first place.

"I thought one of the kids were hiding a dog." Tony says as he walks into the kitchen and straight to the coffee pot. "But no...it's just our resident god. What's Porcupine doing up here anyway?" 

Stephen throws some noodles into the broth and looks over at his husband to accept his coffee flavored morning kiss. "He's sick and Scott isn't home."

"So he just came up and asked you to take care of him?"

"No. I don't even think he was aware he came up here in the first place. He grabbed our whipped cream and then fell back asleep on the couch." Stephen says and Tony raises an eyebrow over his mug.

"Didn't even eat any of it did he?"

"He probably forgot about it as soon as he grabbed it."

"At least he's got pajamas on."

Stephen snickers and leaves the soup to sit for a bit as he walks back into the living room after grabbing a spare blanket, and throws it over the snoring celestial. If one could call the rumbling coming from Quill snoring. It was more like purring. It was weird but Stephen wasn't complaining. It was much more tolerant than actual snoring. Scott had brought it up one day and said it was actually really nice and calming, and that it didn't keep him from sleeping. Which if Tony snored like that, Stephen might like it too...but he didn't. The sorcerer was stuck with the engineer periodically snoring right in his ear at three in the morning. The urge to bunk with one of the kids always followed, but before he could act on that urge, Tony would stop snoring and Stephen could go back to sleep.

"Damn." Tony sits on one of the adjacent couches with his coffee and turns on the tv. "He's like a furnace."

"What's considered an emergency temperature to us is just a high temperature for him." Stephen sits next to Tony and uses a portal to grab his cup of tea he left on the counter.

"How high?"

"He's currently sitting at a hundred and five."

A giggle sounds from behind them. "Uncle Quill sounds like a big kitty."

Diana rounds the couch with a blanket in one of her hands and crawls onto the couch between her parents, and Tony helps her with her blanket when she snuggles into his side. Once comfortably covered, Stephen changes the channel to something more child friendly, and both men secretly die a little inside when it's an episode of Dia's favorite show that they had seen and heard at least five times now. A repeat episode was a million times better than glitter though. Stephen banned glitter after Diana brought some home and easily convinced Harley to use it in his potato gun inside. Everyone still walked away with some part of their body dusted with sparkles.

"Uncle Quill isn't feeling good so we're all going to have a quiet day today." Stephen says as he weaves his hand through Diana's hair.

Tony snorts. "We're going to try at least. The boys don't really know what quiet is."

"Why is there soup on the stove?!" Harley yells from the kitchen and Stephen sighs before getting up.

"You better not touch that soup Harley." The sorcerer walks into the kitchen and finds the teen replacing the lid and taking a bite out of the apple in his other hand. "What did you do to it?"

"Nothing. Didn't get a chance to." When Stephen narrows his eyes, Harley grins. "I'm kidding Mom. But seriously, what's with the soup?"

"Quill is sick."

"Spacecase can get sick?"

"Apparently."

Stephen bats away Harley's hands and the teen turns his attention to the cupboards to grab cereal and grabs a few bowls from a second cupboard. One going to Stephen so he can fill it with some soup, the other three being webbed from Harley's hands. He didn't even blink. He just opened a drawer to dig out some spoons as Peter crawled across the ceiling to put the bowls on the table. Stephen and Tony had tried to get Peter to stop crawling on the ceiling, but the farthest they got to succeeding was him only doing it weekend mornings. They figured they could deal with that if it meant no more heart attacks for Tony. Well, Tony, the kids, and some of the Avengers. Peter successfully scared the crap out of Rhodes and Tony thought it was hilarious.

"Quiet day today." Harley and Peter look at Stephen and he gives them a look when they open their mouths. "Yes, seriously. Either find something quiet to do or see if you can go to a friend's house."

Nothing more is said and the boys sit at the table with a couple of boxes of cereal, and as soon as the first bits clatter into a bowl, Diana hops off the couch and joins her brothers at the table. Stephen of course had to confiscate the coffee that Harley tried to sneak past him and pour into his cereal, and the teen grumbles.

"It was worth a shot."

"It's bad enough that your father tries it. Don't pick up his bad habits." Stephen replies easily and takes both the mug of coffee and the soup into the living room.

Just in time too. Quill had woken up from his nap when Stephen stepped in and he was looking around in dazed confusion. The pirate definitely didn't remember coming up, but he was more lucid than he had been. Quill even sat up, causing the cloth on his forehead to fall down into his lap.

"How did I get up here?" Quill asks with a bit of a slur.

"You walked with your own two legs!" Tony says dramatically. "And with clothes on!"

Stephen rolls his eyes and walks over to Quill to hand him the bowl of soup. "Eat. You're welcome to stay on the couch if you want."

"...where's Scotty?" The celestial asks as he accepts the soup.

"Out of town. How long have you been sick?" Stephen questions.

"Dunno. Since maybe a day before he left?"

Stephen raises an eyebrow. "The last time you ate?"

Quill replied with a lazy shrug and eats his soup with a bit of a grimace. Stephen wasn't offended though because it wasn't a grimace of disgust, it was a grimace of discomfort. Quill's stomach was very likely churning but he wasn't about to argue with an actual doctor. So the bowl of soup was slowly, but surely, polished off. A few minutes pass as the man makes sure his breakfast isn't going to come back up, and then lays back down on the couch before sending a dirty look to the children's show on the tv.

"Hey, you came up here, you have to suffer through kid shows." Tony points out.

"At least make it a Disney movie." Quill grumbles out as he makes himself comfortable again.

Stephen grabs the washcloth and hands it to Quill and he holds it to his forehead with another relieved groan. Diana scrambles in the living room after she finishes her cereal and changes the kid show to a Disney movie (for Uncle Quill), but it ended up being pointless since Quill fell asleep in the first five minutes of Sleeping Beauty. Harley made a joke about the pirate having the right idea and that comment had Diana chucking a crayon at his head. She had taken over the coffee table with coloring supplies (the entire living room if you asked everyone else), watching movies, and enjoying listening to Quill purr (snore) like a big cat. Cassie did end up joining them not much later, actually looking for Quill, and when she found him conked out on the couch and being taken care of, she sat with Diana and colored with her. That was how most of them spent their day. Coloring, watching Disney movies, or in Tony and the boys cases, down in the lab. After the second movie started, the three if them fled to the lab and left Stephen to the girls and the sick god.

Fine by him. It was much quieter that way.

"Cassie, were you aware that Quill was sick?" Stephen asks as he cleans up the kitchen.

"Hmm? Yeah. I've been taking care of him the last couple of days. He's been doing...this." She motions toward the slumbering god.

"Why didn't you say anything?"

"Victor said he was fine and there wasn't much for me to do since he was always sleeping."

"Well...I'll help you keep an eye on him until he gets better or Scott gets home. Whatever comes first." The sorcerer rejoins the two girls and sits on one of the empty couches grabbing a crayon and inspecting it closely. "Is this a glitter-"

Diana grabs it. "It's in the crayon Mommy!"

Stephen sighs and looks down just as Tibbs walks past them and over to Quill. He jumps up on the celestial, kneads his still rumbling chest, and then turns around once before laying down. Tibbs' purring adds to Quill's snoring and the girls giggle.

"Uncle Quill really is a big cat!"

Stephen smiles. "Our actual cat isn't affected by much."

"Peter's right. Tibbs is the chillest cat in the world." Cassie reaches up to pet Tibbs, and the feline responds with louder purring.

"Victor, take a picture and send it to Scott please."

"Yes Doctor."

Quill blinks his eyes open once again and finds himself staring at a furry lump on his chest. "Wha--What's on my chest?" He mumbles and Cassie grins.

"Just a fuzzy multitentacled otherworldly being. No big deal."

"...kay."

Quill falls back asleep and Stephen snorts. Healthy celestial god Quill would have sprung to his feet in an instant. Sick Quill? He didn't give a single shit.

[starship-imzadi]

S1 E1 Encounter at Farpoint: parts 1 & 2

I'm going to just start by saying I love TNG, but that doesn't mean it isn't painful to watch at times. The first season has a lot of painful moments.

The opening shot of the Enterprise is very clearly and brightly lit from beneath...what is the light source supposed to be?

Troi's hair is so ridiculous it's only surpassed by her dialogue. And oh how painful her dialogue is. Props to Marnia for sticking with it.

Data clearly needs access to the urban dictionary.

This two part episode does a lot for establishing the TNG world. Gene Roddenberry is known for being a progressive but often he, or the writers, seem to get in their own way. Q as a tool for testing that progressiveness is very important if imperfect. As a product of the show himself, he fails in many respects to be properly progressive in his own right.

Notice Troi is in uniform, but with short sleeves and a short skirt. By contrast Tasha has trousers and long sleeves like the men, all of which seem to be one piece suits. In engineering you can see one man also dressed in short sleeves and skirt around 11:00 and one in the hall around 14:00.

I'm curious what a "printout message" is. It sounds analog but I'm not sure how that manifests. I certainly don't remember hearing it used ever again.

The pacing for this feels quite slow and the saucer separation is reminiscent of Star Trek The Motion Picture and all of their special effects "showing off".

Tasha wants a fight so bad.

Troi actually get to do something with communications!

I wonder what the "frozen" stuff is.... It makes me think of old Hollywood asbestos snow

I know Patrick has done a lot of Shakespearean theatre but are we really suposed to believe the first "classic" quote uttered by a progressive egalitarian society is from a white male?

Riker without a beard is so uptight. Riker does some dumb stuff in this show, BUT I also really like him (I'll point out why as I go). Okay, so every character is a synthetic construct built by the opinions and ideas of writers, producers, costumers, directors, the show runner, other creatives, and ultimately the actor who portrays that character. So, there's a lot of opportunities for inconsistencies or poor development (I know that a pessimistic perspective.) I appreciate subtly in writing but at the same time I'm not looking to explain away poor writing or creative choices either.

An issue I have with Roddenberry's vision for the future is how synthetic everything is. Half of the props look like they're made of plastic and most of the costumes look like polyester.

The video they show Riker makes me wonder how was it recorded, and edited, and why is it so uninformative?

Data says the saucer section will be there in 51 minutes but then two minutes later tells Picard they've arrived.

I've seen a quote attributed to Patrick Stewart saying "Jonathan Frakes couldn't manually dock a bicycle." The real question is why make Riker dock the saucer section manually?

Riker: permission to speak candidly sir

Picard: always

"I don't feel comfortable with children"

Geordi is in constant pain from his visor. What an odd detail to include. I think it's mentioned only once more in "Loud as a Whisper".

Data exists as a character to fill the spot of Spock. In philosophical terms they are perhaps the reciprocal of each other, one wishing to avoid his humanity the other wishing to embrace it. Despite being a beloved character, Bones has a prejudice against Vulcans he's not to shy about showing, often references physical difference he's uncomfortable with like green blood and pointed ears. It is fitting to note he treats Data with a similar "skepticism". He even calls Data "boy" which is reminiscent of racist terminology used against black men in the southern United States. In TNG season 2 Dr. Pulaski feels to me to be very much like Bones in her demeanor and proves to share the same prejudices against Data.

It's admirable that Worf admits his mistake and his desire to learn from it.

The fish is the Captain's ready room really completes the image of the entire Enterprise being decorated like a doctor's office in the 90's. Even the carpet on the floor fits.

IMZADI!!! Sorry, it's my weakness (no one will ship them harder than Marina and Jonathan and I'll happily be a crew member on that ship)

But honestly, this is awkward. Picard introduces them and they just stare at each other....not.... blinking. (As they talk telepathically) which I think the writers forget is a thing after this episode.

"I consider it important for my key officers to know each other's abilities"....that almost sounds suggestive.

Riker's movement to kneel next to Troi when she experiences emotional distress is one of the first specific moments to note of what might be called "emotional physicality". The blocking allows Jonathan to be in frame but opposite Patrick for dialogue exchange but emotionally it allows Riker the character to be in a closer, supportive place for Troi. Troi and Riker's initial meeting is one of shock, they know each other and seeing each other is significant but we don't really know if that's good or bad. Riker's movement here shows that beyond the shock of seeing each other the emotional reaction he has is one of concern and affection.

This ensign is totally flirting with Riker and ....Riker doesn't flirt back. Not sure if Riker just wasn't comfortable yet or if the writers hadn't developed that part of his character yet.

So...if the holodeck makes stuff like a food replicator...what are the people made of? (I guess more on that with Moriarty).

I know a lot of people dislike Wesley but... let's be fair, the writers didn't do him any favours.

I'm not really sure why Troi suggested she go with Riker to look around but it certainly gave him the opportunity to reject her.

I just noticed Troi's painted nails.

Marina is really giving a performance above and beyond everyone else in this episode. And it's sweet that Riker goes to comfort her.

Oooo! Picard and Crusher....also, mama Crusher going to bat for Wesley is important.

Of the Enterprise crew, Tasha and Troi have definitely displayed the most emotion of anyone in this episode set.

I'm not really sure how Riker is supposed to have impressed Q...

Hurray for the space jellyfish

Some of the camera work in this episode is just weird...

Engage!

[heathcliffdt]

Eremika! I'm craving mikasa/eren hugs.

Title: Skinny Love

an: heeey I know song fics are waay too 2005-ish. i struggled so hard as to whether i will use this song for an edwin or an eremika fic. i decided to do both bec this song is so precious i highly suggest u listen to bon iver’s version simply because it is majestic.

I Told You to Be Patient

When Mikasa was younger, her mother told her a tale of how each person is born with a fairy whose heart is distinct from the others. Since they were too small for the eyes to be seen, the hearts of these fairies could only store one trait so one must take good care of it. They were unique like the first snowflakes that shower so tenderly during early December. For an inquisitive kid like Mikasa, she didn’t initially believe her mother. But despite being dubious, she did wonder what her own fairy looked like and what trait did her heart actually carried.

When she met Eren however, Mikasa’s suspicions on her mother’s stories were easily debunked. Looking at Eren, her eyesight immensely improved that she could swear that she could make out Eren’s tiny fairy through her naked eye. She would describe his fairy as a stubbier version of him, with the eyes the color of seafoam dreams, and his hair untidy and naughty like the scrunch on the eyebrows he sported. But the one trait Eren’s fairy carried in his heart was the cadmium yellow of cascading sun, or the endless sprint in an unwalled field: it was freedom.

Eren’s fairy served as his propeller, his engine, the cherub that whispered to his ears to heed impulse. Sometimes, Eren’s fairy and himself defied reasons. Mikasa would at how an arguing Armin to not stupidly head on with the snotty bullies or how Carla exasperatedly placed her hands on her hips as she sternly reprimand Eren. Mikasa witnessed how his fairy just buzzed in tantrum like a bee, catching his attention thus he never actually paid attention to what Armin nor Carla said.

“How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t always barge into fights?” Carla pulled a damp face towel from her fresh laundry and wiped Eren’s black swollen eye. “Someday you have to grow up. You know, young man, you need to protect Mikasa too?”

Mikasa could hear the tiny fairy constantly buzzing; Eren shoved Carla’s hands and just ran off inside the house, leaving both Carla and Mikasa and a pile of clothes alone.

“He never listens,” Carla said.

“Mikasa, keep Eren in check, okay? He may think that he needs to prove something else. He fails to see he is already special because he is born into this world.”

-

I Told You To Be Fine

The stark difference between Eren’s frail little fairy and the others’ was the fact that the shrill voice never disappeared for Eren. Overtime, these small hovering stout pixies should disappear; Eren’s however just made itself more known. Mikasa was a witness to this.

There was an account wherein Eren was too disoriented to listen to the tiny voice. It was when he needed it the most, for the lions who sprint for the antelopes would one day meet its demise. Who would have thought something so glorious would meet its decay immediately?

Eren was shaken to the core, and Mikasa was immobilized. Before them was the monster, sporting a devious smile, who killed Carla. Had Mikasa not promised Carla that she would not be Eren’s rock, she would have believed that it was the last setting of the sun their eyes had laid sight on.

“Eren,” Mikasa placed a tender hand over Eren’s shaking fists. “Listen carefully, for I have to tell you something.”

And all the world had muted its color and silenced its agony. “Thank you for being there for me. And for teaching me how to live.”

Like a child clinging to its comfort thing, Mikasa pulled the shabby red muffler closer to her face, “thank you for wrapping this scarf around me. Thank you.”

She was certain they were about to die that moment.

On that day, two things occurred: one: she was wrong about thinking they would die that day; and two: Eren sealed a promise.

-

I Told You To Be Balanced

When the rage and the thirst for freedom got so enmeshed in Eren’s world, she sometimes had a hard time locating the thin line which bordered it. Armin was the most articulate among the three of them, and Mikasa was the most empathic, and Eren…well, he was a boy whose fairy’s heart was too big to house.

Mikasa had grown familiar to Armin’s exasperated smile when Eren’s assertion was coupled with defiance. It was impossible to separate his indomitable heart from him—it was the imprint of his soul.

One precious sunset was all that they needed for Eren to regain his moment of inertia as he treaded his own tightrope. Just when everyone was ready to sacrifice themselves for the glory and restoration of those whom the world branded as devils, Eren just turned them all down.

“I’m not going to leave the titans to any of you,” he said. “Because you are all too important. More than anybody else.”

Mikasa thought Armin’s allusion to the watercolor orange of the twilight sun was perfect to Eren’s sincerity. It had been so long since Mikasa witnessed Eren’s heart tendered through the course of the ongoing bloodshed.

-

I Told You To Be Kind

She never doubted him.

But when one heartbreak succeeded another, a vicious circle was bound to exist.

She failed to understand as there were too many puzzle pieces scattered all around. Right now, there seemed to be not one sensible person within her reach who still fostered a heart. There was not much room for that anymore because apparently, in war and the struggle for power, even the fundamental principles of a person are compromised. Could she even dare call herself a human still after taking part of such atrocities?

How she wished they had the luxury of time to at least lament the passing of Sasha.

Eren had been compromising a lot lately. Mikasa always knew Eren’s ethics was not of utilitarianism, so when they left Liberio to smithereens, she knew something’s not right. In Mikasa’s opinions, Eren had been compromising too much. He was probably not being patient, he was not being fine, he was not being balanced.

Little to her knowledge, Eren could go as far as compromising her and Armin by his side. Apprehensions creep through the mind like savage murderers trespassing a house at night, but what she failed to comprehend was how the very person who taught her to live was the same person who tore her apart.

When Eren told her that the old Mikasa, the deliberately thinking Mikasa, was already gone when she was nine years old because some gene was activated, her senses shut off. How could her own faculty be nothing but merely a database, and her affection and care for Eren was just because of a goddamn imprint?

She fished for validation, that no, Eren, you saved me from the kidnappers and wrapped this scarf around me out of your kindness. There had been no bearing. But it wasn’t enough that Eren consciously triggered her and Armin’s vulnerabilities.

She wondered if Eren was telling the truth because at the time he told her that he felt nothing for her but hatred, she couldn’t feel a thing. It surprised her that tears could stream down from eyes.

Who will love you? Who will fight? Who will fall far behind?

[nigiyakapepper]

magic | voltron; allurance

For Allurance Week 2017 Day 1 - AU: Modern w/ Magic

Summary/Excerpt: “Hey baby, if I were an enzyme, I’d be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”

That was Lance McClain, obnoxious flirt, with unfairly pretty handwriting and meticulous notes, never without hand cream and a glass bottle of gourmet-looking tea, whose best friend made the. best. cookies in the entire world.

magic | ao3

“Have a nice day, Mrs. Reyes!”

“You too, dear!”

The door closes with a merry jingle and Allura sighs, a small bemused smile playing on her lips. She looks around the shop—at its shelves of homemade tea, candles, oils, dried herbs, jars of spices and powdered roots, crystals, glass eyes to ward off evil and hammered gold amulets to protect the wearer from various things, and thinks, This is my life now.

She supposes she remembers how this started. She was a nervous freshman in college, about to embark on the treacherous, glorious road to becoming a surgeon just like her father. A boy had waltzed into her bio class, stopped dead when he saw her, beamed like a kid on Christmas, sat beside her and delivered the most awful pick-up line in the history of pick-up lines.

“Hey baby, if I were an enzyme, I’d be a DNA helicase so I could unzip your genes.”

That was Lance McClain, obnoxious flirt, with unfairly pretty handwriting and meticulous notes, never without hand cream and a glass bottle of gourmet-looking tea, whose best friend made the. best. cookies in the entire world.

(She was also wearing a skirt that day.)

Somewhere in between the professor pairing them up for the final requirement of the semester, spending endless hours in the library, enduring the cheesiest pick-up lines with increasingly fond exasperation, and arguing over a lot of things from the cohesion of a paper to whether or not sugar scrubs were really good for your skin, Allura fell in love.

It wasn’t anything monumental, only a realization that built up in moments and made itself known in the quiet afternoons they spent together.

“Lance, you’ve already read this week’s chapter?” “I have to. I’m bad at studying. It takes a while for me to understand things.”

“Hey, Princess!” “Ugh…kill me.” “Nope. Nu-uh. Eat this turkey and cheese. Get through Wednesday’s report then ask me again, okay?”

“Hunk wants to change majors?” “Oh yeah. But he’s on scholarship so he has to stay in Engineering for at least a year.” “Why is he taking Biology with us?” “Because he’s crazy? Who takes this course for fun? Apparently him!” “He knows you need his madeleines.” “God yes, we need his madeleines.”

“Good morning, Princess! Are you today’s date? Because you’re ten outta ten!” “Aaaand it has been zero days since our last pick-up line.” That’d been Hunk. “I’m surprised you didn’t use that for tomorrow. Eleven out of ten,” she’d replied, more amused now than annoyed. “And miss the chance to tell you you’re beautiful today? I would never.” Hunk laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“'Llura, why did you decide to be a surgeon?” “Well…it’s always been something I thought I’d head towards. There aren’t a lot of women in surgery, you know?” A pause, where Lance had waited for her to go on. “I know it sounds silly, wanting to follow in my father’s footsteps, but wanting to break new ground. I won’t be surprised if my connections get me places, because I know that’s how it is in medicine. But…but I want to make it on my own too.” Lance had smiled at her, when she looked up from her hands that she couldn’t keep from fidgeting. “Nothin’ less from our Princess.”

“What about you, Lance? Why do you want to be a nurse?” “I wanna take care of my grandparents, then my parents, when they get old.” “Your grandparents are still alive, aren’t they?” “Mmhmm, both sides. After I get my license, I’m gonna go back home and take care of them.” Allura had made a noise of confusion, to which Lance followed up with, “Grandpa on my mom’s side owns a shop. I want to help him run it.” “What kind of shop?” “…a magical shop.” Allura had looked at him, and Lance made a strange face that was sheepish, defensive, and proud. “We sell magic.” A pause. “What?” “Nothing. It kind of makes sense.” “What does?” “With the tea. And your energy.” “You believe me?” “Sure.” Allura was familiar with some traditional doctors because of her father’s work. “I’ve been with you on days we get an hour of sleep and you clearly aren’t human.” Lance had waggled his eyebrows at her. “Now that might just be talent—oof!” “Your liver is going to pay in thirty years,” she said, her palm on his face.

“Going home for the weekend, Lance?” “M’thinkin’ about it. My brothers are taking the bar exam soon and I’d rather not be home.” “You’re that kind of youngest child?” “The ‘you’re our seventh offspring, go do whatever you want’ kind? Yeah. I was thinkin’ of going with Hunk but his nieces are over.” “I could stay with you.” He stared and Allura flushed. “I mean not go home either. Stay at my own dorm, but keep you company. So the long weekend won’t be too boring.” She tried to ignore the way her heart squeezed when Lance smiled like the sun.

Small gestures followed that. Lance brought her tea along with his own, and sometimes enchanted coffee. They literally burned midnight oil when they needed to—a soothing, energizing blend of eucalyptus, lavender, lemon, and rosemary while cramming for Finals Week. When she was stuck on a paper for History, he placed a gorgeous oval of Tiger’s Eye on her laptop keyboard, “For focus,” he said brightly.

“This question might offend you,” Allura told him one day over lunch. “Hmm?” Lance was in mid-bite. “Have you ever thought…well, have you ever thought of magic not working?” “Oh, loads of times.” He swallowed before continuing. “Grandpa explained it to me once, like, he’d do the rituals, brew those teas, and make all sorts of stuff not because he believed them, y’know? But because they worked. Like sometimes he’d do things to prove they wouldn’t work but they do. So he keeps doing them.” Allura smiled.

Somehow, like that, four years pass. They spend even more time together after Hunk shifts to Food Science, despite the increasing number of classes they don’t share. Lance invites her over to his house for lunch one weekend thinking nothing of it, until his mother asks, “Are you two dating?”

And before Lance could sputter out his embarrassed denial, Allura took hold of his hand, looked at him and said, “Why not?”

He sputtered anyway. “I mean…are you sure?”

“I’m sure, you silly. Even if I don’t know why myself.”

His chin had scrunched up in the most adorable way and he stared at her in some sort of weird defiance she didn’t understand until she heard his next words, “Allura, I swear I’d never ever put a love spell on you. Pipo, tell me you didn’t.”

Lance’s grandfather laughed a hearty belly laugh that warmed up the dining room. “You don’t leave matters of the heart to magic, mijo. Though I get why you think I would.”

“Hey!”

Allura herself had taken Lance to meet her own parents the weekend after that. Her father was already alright with him but pretended to be intimidating anyway, because it was fun.

She smiles at the memories. And here she is now, supposedly studying for med school, but the shop is peaceful, the air heavy with summer heat, earthy scents, and something else she’s becoming increasingly aware of since she’s met Lance—a pleasant thrum of energy that can be directed into anything from sleepy to electric.

She moves from the counter to peek into the office, where she knows Lance is working on some spell jars. She has mind to tell him to take a break, when she stops and watches.

Lance’s eyes are closed. He is surrounded by candles and his body sways to the easy beat of Wang Chung’s Dance Hall Days. He was never one for sitting still in anything. He meditates in movement, and going into a trance is no different. Allura’s breath catches when he opens his eyes. They’re unfocused yet a brighter blue in the glow of candlelight. His face is relaxed, lines smoothed out and cut in sharp shadows. His whole self is seemingly charged enough to vibrate out of his skin, body barely containing raw energy waiting to be directed. He starts singing a little, more loose and free.

It looks like a whole lot of nothing, but Allura feels drawn to him, like a stray thread of light’s hooked into her navel and tugs her forward. She smiles as her heart swells, feeling a bit like she’s too big for her body too.

“What about you?” “What about me?” “Do you believe in magic? And don’t say what I know you want to say—” she said, catching Lance’s smirk a little too late. “—If the universe has allowed me to meet you, then yes I do.” “Dear god…” “You walked right into that one, Princess.”

END

[arcadioadell1990]

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[orrtala]

Post-season 1 mini-analysis of the characters

It's a liveblog! I only finished season one, please no spoilers in the comments/reblogs!

I won’t be going into details here; the proper character and relationships analyses will be written after S2. But, since few people did want to see my opinion about character after S1, and to help collect my thoughts, here’s this little thing.

I’m going with alphabetic order cause why not.

Hunk

First impression: Please tell me he’s not going to be that fat best friend comic relief. He definitely lives up to his name (nickname?) though.

Actually: Sweetheart genius pun-making big beautiful yellow child. Team’s tank and support. Had a really nice character arc. Gut feeling power. Great chef and mechanic. Anxious and nervous, but also strong and ready to be here when needed by space family and Zarkon’s victims.

I don’t really know that much about him? Nothing about his parents, potential siblings, etc. Heck, I don’t even know if “Hunk” is actually his name! DreamWorks I demand justice, give me his backstory! His family, how did he become friends with Lance, just give me something!

At first he was a cowardly lion (…pun not entirely intended,) and didn’t really have a motivation for being a Paladin except, you know, the whole “universe will be destroyed if I won’t do something” thing. But once the things are calm (before the storm) and Pidge wants to leave the team he expresses a desire to leave as well. So he gets an arc. First of all he gets motivation to save Lance, which is personal to him. Then gets to meet Shay, learns how life looks like on the Balmera, what does it mean to live under Zarkon’s rule. And only then it also gets personal for him. Basically if you want this guy’s help you need to shove the rightful issue right under his nose. And boy, the help he delivers. I’m so proud. Hunk used to be an engineer back at the Garrison; he’s quite knowledgeable when it comes to technology. In addition he’s a good cook, so let’s hope Paladins won’t have to deal with green goo all the time in the future. I’m not exactly sure what writers are planning to do with him in a future, since he does have a motivation and means to continue being a Paladin. The continuation of his arc, I think, will need some big event that will result in things for him to overcome. What it’s going to be? No clue right now. On an ending note: he loves puns. And I don’t think there’s a faster way to worm into my heart than being a pun lover.

Katie “Pidge” Holt

First impression: Okay, so is that a boy or a girl? What kind of name is Pidge? Ah, apparently a guy. A guy that gets angry when Kerberos mission is involved. Hmmmm.

Actually: Poor kid who lost half of her family and is determined to get them back no matter what. A genius, a nice kid, MVP who almost single-handedly managed to save the Castle, the Lions, and her space family.

The character with most known background; we know her family, we know that her father and brother were taken by Galra, we know she has a dog, we know her full name, we got some flashbacks about her life for a last year, when she wanted to find out the truth about her missing family. It’s also implied that while she’s a prodigy two captured Holts apparently were also good enough to be chosen for Kerberos mission. Must be genes.

Pidge might be a prodigy, but is also a little kid who just wants to get her father and brother back. An awkward kid, who rambles when she gets nervous and overthinks things, and, similiary to Keith has a little problem with handling other people. At first solely motivated by rescuing her family “I’m not here to make friends” Pidge initially refuses Lance and Hunk’s friendship at the Garrison, but they got through to her, at least partially. When she wants to leave she’s stopped by Lance getting hurt and decides to stay after seeing how much the team (and by extension the universe) needs her and because she actually cares about her new family. As the season went on she got close to Shiro and Hunk, finding a support in them, just like she had with her family back home. She trusts all six of them and they trust and respect her in turn. The future? Working with Voltron and saving all of them multiple times. Won’t stop searching for her family until she finds them.

Keith

First impression: What is mullet. Why does this kid look like Shadow the Human. He’s going to be one of these edgy kids, isn’t he, he has motorcycle and everything. Also he looks too similiar to Lance from Sym-Bionic Titan, let’s hope I won’t have any problem with mixing their names, that would be awkward.

Actually: My poor isolated red kid not used to relying on others. Good instincs, good fighter, bad at socializing, touch-starved, probably autistic. Survivalist who doesn’t really think much of his safety and is ready to be sacrificial when he thinks the situation calls for it.

His background isn’t explored, but I’m pretty sure it was purposeful. He lives alone in a shack after being thrown out of the Garrison and knew Shiro. Most probably an orphan (or at the very least his parents/one of the parents disappeared and we’ll know more about it later). Too many hints made me believe he’s part Galra. And perhaps even has some space magicks?

The right arm, a pilot prodigy, sadly didn’t get an arc yet. If I’d have to guess it will tie-in with his heritage (*cough*Galra Keith*cough*) and finding answers about who he is. He’s not… great with people; he can’t understand some jokes, he yells at Pidge instead of properly reasoning with her in a calm when she wants to leave, and while he’s not bad at coming up with plans, he usually carries them out alone (though he does have his moments of being Shiro’s substitute when he’s indisposed like in the “Return of the Gladiator”, he is a lancer of the team after all.) Dude lived on a desert for a year and was somehow fine with, I presume, very minimal human contact. Self-sufficient person who now has to learn to work with others. And he tries! …Sometimes. One of the things that confuses me about him is his sword training. Where exactly did he get it? He was being trained for pilot in the Garrison, I doubt they thought he needed such practice. Another thing to add to his secret past? I guess so. From what I’ve seen Keith is a person who relies mostly on his instincts and feelings. Once he sets his mind on something he’s going to do it, unless you’ll give him a good reason (good enough for him) to act differently. He does spend at least a few months in the shack, searching for the source of some energy connected to Blue Lion. And he can’t even explain why he does it. However he is thorough with his search, as his cork board has shown. Has an eye for detail and at times can be inquiring. Knows his faults (when Lance calls him out on the actual mistake on his part he backpedals and agrees,) tries to focus on a bigger picture (Voltron vs Allura in the finale, Pidge leaving the team,) ready to sacrifice himself if he thinks the situation calls for it (stalling Zarkon in the finale.) He is loyal to his team, frequently tries to bond with them despite being a loner (pretty much every free time he spends with a team he’s smiling,) and his actions are focused on helping others and, by extension, saving the universe.

Lance

First impression: An embodiment of DreamWorks Eyebrow™, full of false over-confidence, ruins everything with his actions and- did he just protect his teammate and then took the Sergeant Drill Nasty’s ire on himself and was reminded that he wasn’t supposed to be there? Ohkaaaaay. Also really, really pointy chin.

Actually: Child with self-confidence issues, trusts easily, everyone’s friend (unless you’re Keith and only at the beginning, they’re good-ish now!) team’s heart, relies on his eyesight a lot, self-proclaimed laaaaaaadies man. Probably a hipster.

He’s a Cuban with a family he misses very much. We even get a look at them during the mind-melding scene. Tried to be a fighter pilot and only became one after Keith dropped out.

Ah, Lance. Kid doesn’t really know who he is. I mean, if I was compared to Keith so much and then started to compare myself to him too I’d also get confused. His arc, amusingly, is similiar to Keith’s as in it’s also a quest for identity. Except Keith has some knowledge about his abilities and doesn’t feel overshadowed by anyone, but he has no place outside Voltron. Lance meanwhile has a family back on Earth which he dearly misses, but doesn’t know who he is in a team, can’t recognize his talents. And here’s a thing: not only he’s confused, the audience is supposed to be confused too. It’s really weird how these little things point Lance into different directions, when, ultimately (I think,) he’s Blue Paladin. He likes people, he likes paying attention to them, he’s perceptive, observes their reactions. Easily befriends everyone, even when they refuse his friendship (Pidge.) The only exception being Keith, though before S1 ended they became friend-ish despite initial petty hostility (but didn’t really have that much problem with working with him when the situation calls for it from the very beginning - they did carry Shiro out of the tent together after all.) It’s not a coicidence that he’s a person who gets to interact with everyone first - with a sole exception of Shiro, though even their handshake was a focus for few moments. He’s a team player, something that Pidge considers a dangerous trait. I think the moment that showed best how important and valuable he was to the team when he was out of commision. Literally right after he leaves the party Allura learns that Pidge wants to leave Voltron and can not be deterred by anyone else. The fake Rover blows up, he saves the life of a guy he only just met, and everyone are suddenly working together cause Lance is injured he needs a pod, they need a crystal, Pidge doesn’t even hesitate at offering help, and essentialy it’s a Voltron’s darkest hour so far. He’s a heart, he’s a glue to a team. I don’t really want to think what would happen if he got seperated from space family for a long time; nobody would handle it well.

Takashi “Shiro” Shirogane

First impression: Protagonist’s voice. Also nice eyeliner, man! … …Oh no, poor guy.

Actually: Poor guy. Taken by aliens, forced to fight in the arena, has been experimented on, developed PTSD. And yet despite his experiences he’s a good man with a sense of morality. Deep-rooted issues about him being a Paladin and protector of all these children. Doesn’t fear death, not anymore.

We know his full name. We know he is a great pilot, he can be seen wearing a medal, good enough to be chosen for Kerberos mission. Captured by Galra he essentially lost a year of his life and forgot most of it, only recalling bits and pieces. There are no hints about his family and he didn’t think about them when Paladins were looking into each other’s headholes. Could it be that he doesn’t really have anyone? Might be an extra reason how ge got along with Keith pre-show.

Shiro’s a perfectionist, who tries not let others know about his problems, but is ready to solve everybody else’s. And, sadly, he’s not handling his issues very well, choosing to internalize them instead of talking about them to somebody. It makes sense though, not only he tries to look as a steady figure who’s always in control of his actions, not when these kids rely and look up to him, but also when you consider the nature of his troubles. After a year spent fighting, being experimented on, losing his arm, having his appearence changed (and now I’m imagining how he must have felt when he finally looked into mirror and saw all the scars for the first time brain stop please) he’s not sure who he is anymore. And to add to that he doesn’t know what exactly he did during that year. Who knows, maybe he commited monstrosities for the sake of survival and he just doesn’t remember it? Is he enough to be a Black Paladin? He has PTSD, isn’t that a good trait for a leader. And what could they even say if he did spill his problems to them? They wouldn’t even know how to help him, right? Or worse, Sendak was right all along and they actually don’t need him. Despite his inner turmoils Shiro tries, and tries to be a good leader and wants his new family to survive the war, and for the most part he succeeds! He comes up with good plans on a fly, he knows when teammate’s ability is needed, he’s charismatic, he has commanding presence, he helps others and is always willing to listen to them. The only times I can think of that his ideas weren’t that great were a) letting Pidge leave the team and b) I agree that saving Allura was a Right Thing but in the end it did put everyone in danger and if it wasn’t for Thace’s intervention, well… What really gets me when it comes to Shiro, that despite his experiences he’s a good guy. Yeah, I know that all our heroes are the good guys but Shiro? Shiro was put through unspeakable pain and suffering, and yet he has his morals and sticks to them. He’s also the only person who knows how laser guns sounds like. Good on you, Shiro!

Allura

First impression: !!!! She’s so pretty! And will kick your butt. Effortlessly.

Actually: Do you have any idea how much I wish Allura existed when I was a kid? Hands down favorite Disney DreamWorks princess. Headstrong, brave, kind, strong, sad but tries not to show it, lost everything and instead of wallowing in sadness she wants to fight back the best she can.

Her backstory is pretty straightforward: only child of the space elf alien king, her planet and people were destroyed and she spent 10 000 years sleeping. Not much is known about her mother, but I’m gonna go ahead and assume she died before Zarkon turned out evil. Allura remembers her though.

Allura’s not your usual Princess. And I made no secret of how much I love her character. She lost everything thanks to Zarkon: her father, her people, her planet; the only Altean alive besides her is Coran, there are also her pet mice (to whom she is connected, and, uh, I guess it’s a space magicks explanation for her having an animal companions she doesn’t have to sing to; shame, I’d really like to hear her singing,) the Castle and Voltron. That’s it, that’s all she has. Oh, she used to have her father’s AI as a companion but… But… I’m not going to cry again. Our Princess is terrified of the war, but it doesn’t stop her in her quest of not letting Zarkon destroy any more worlds. She’s sad beyond belief, but she puts a smile on her face in front of others. She’s there to have your back, she’s there to fight when she has to, she’s there to save you. Allura has shown on more than one occasion, that she’s ready to die for others (getting captured by Galra so Shiro could be free, healing Balmera though she knew very well it might have cost her her life.) She’s very strong, and very capable in close combat and using her surroundings. …Not much luck with distance weapons. Unless throwing poeple at others can be called figthing at distance. Also she shows promise in using space magicks, and I’m not sure how much it ties to being an Altean, being an Altean royalty, or something else.

Coran

First impression: Nigel Thornberry. A comic relief, bigger than Lance and Hunk.

Actually: Team’s support, probably smarter than everyone else combined, full of pent up anger at Zarkon that we finally got to witness in the season finale. Knowledgeable about many things. Very old, very sad.

Similiary to Allura he lost everything (besides the Princess) after Zarkon destroyed Altea. But I don’t really know the extent of his loss - did he have any family? Spouse, children? Alfor trusted him and Allura apparently was alway close to him. I’d really love to see some kind of backstory episode for this guy, I bet it’d leave us all in tears.

Coran is a tricky case; he’s the least prominent part of the cast, most of the time spent on being a team’s support. And that’s exactly his role, it’s apparently what he was doing most of his life: serving the royal family. First it was Alfor, now it’s Allura. Trustworthy and capable enough to be left with a Princess, a Black Lion, and a quest on flying a Castle to Arus and then freezing himself up as well. That picture above? It’s a first expression he makes, sad, but solemn in his duties. And it last barely a second before starting some background shenanigans with Lance. And since he is an Altean, experienced at that, I don’t think he’d have that much problem with handling down a teenager. He took a look at the situation, saw that Allura isn’t actually in any danger, but just in case presented himself as harmless, so the newcomers would underestimate him. And, I guess, it was also supposed to be audience’s reaction as well: “Oh look, haha, a comic relief.” He actually is a comic relief, but non-offensive, quite astute, with vast knowledge. Treats his duties seriously, and, unsurprisingly, is very protective when it comes to Princess, trying to not let her step right into danger. Also trolls Paladins while trying to teach them something in a process. It’s also suggested that he’s 600 years old (the Castle is 10 600 and Coran’s grandfather took him to see it being built) and while we don’t really know that much about him it’s not out of reach to think he had family on his own before the war. He definitely has paternal instincts towards the Paladins and especially Allura. So yeah, Coran’s there for you whenever you need him, but he’s not going to step into spotlight, rather choosing to help others in achieving their goal.

Tl;dr: I love them all so much.

[elspethdixon]

Look!  It’s an untitled Steve/Tony WWII AU

Well, the first scene of one, anyway. There are about 35,000 more words where this came from, but no title. Our working title of "Captain America & Iron Man vs. the Nazi Mummies" had to be discarded, because there are no mummies nor indeed anything remotely resembling mummies anywhere in the fic.

The warehouses in the East End were burning again – he could smell the chemical tang in the smoke, underneath the acrid smell of explosives and the heavy scent of a gas leak from somewhere uncomfortably close. Fire itself made a noise, Tony had learned that in China, but he couldn’t hear it over the drone of airplane engines and the ear-splitting rattle of the anti-aircraft gun on the next block.

Nearly two months in London, and he still hadn’t gotten used to how loud it was.

The hotel that took up most of the block was already burning, the front façade and half the roof missing and the top three floors caved in. A building like that would have a big basement, and since the closest subway station had been damaged in the last raid, it would be packed with people.

He cut his jet boots a good six feet above the ground and let himself fall the rest of the way, just to be safe. Tony had replaced the original rocket boots with a combination of miniaturized jet engines and vectored thrust when he’d built his second suit, but there was still enough heat and flame to be deadly if he landed too close to that gas leak.

Close up, it was obvious that the hotel was no longer structurally sound. He was going to have to be careful moving the rubble.

Tony activated the armor’s cooling fans and strode forward, chunks of plaster crunching under his boots. That partially collapsed section of wall and the fallen ceiling beam resting across it were the only things holding up the weight of the upper floors; he couldn’t move them, or anything that was holding them in place. If the entrance to the cellars was under any of that, the people inside were – he’d find a way to get them out.

Inside the building the air was thick with smoke and almost too hot to breathe, and Tony thought briefly and uselessly of Gene’s ice ring. His air filters had already failed, and his armor’s internal oxygen supply was exhausted. It didn’t matter; it wasn’t that hard to breathe in here, not yet.

The grand staircase to the second floor had collapsed into a heap of smoldering rubble, partially blocking what had to be the cellar entrance. Someone on the inside had pulled the door inward, and as Tony came closer, he could hear the sound of panicked voices, and the high pitched wailing of a small child.

“Hush,” a woman’s voice said firmly. “Up you go.”

A small, round face appeared in the opening, belonging to a child of indeterminate gender. It saw Tony and shrieked.

A heavy overcoat had been laid across the top of the pile of rubble, enough to offer some protection against the heat, but it didn’t stretch all the way to the floor. The little boy – girl? – stared at Tony with huge eyes, frozen in place, unable to back away without falling into the cellar.

“It’s okay,” Tony tried. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Mommy!” the child wailed. “Mommy, there’s a robot!”

He should have listened to Happy and painted his armor, but the dull grey was harder to see at night, and kept the German fighters from firing on him.

“I’m a nice robot,” he offered, painfully aware of the weight of the upper stories hanging over their heads. The ceiling beams were heavy, and would take hours to burn through, but the heat would already be weakening them. They would crack and splinter long before they turned into char.

“Andrew, if you don’t climb down and run outside like a good boy, I will give you such a smack.”

The little boy inched forward, his face screwed up as if he were about to cry, and Tony snatched him off the heap of rubble before he could fall off the coat and onto the burning remains of the staircase. He set him on the floor, and looked up to find that a little girl had already taken his place atop the rubble. She looked a year or two older than the boy, and was clutching a stuffed giraffe.

She gave him a wary look, but kept quiet as he lifted her down, then immediately latched on to the little boy.

Three more children followed, and then Tony looked up, ready for the next one, to find himself staring at the blood-covered face of a woman.

“There are nearly fifty more people down here,” she said. “At least ten more are children, but they’re all too big to fit through this gap. We have to move some of the rubble out of the way.”

“I’ll do it,” he said. “You’ll burn your hands. Is anyone hurt?”

“Mrs. Shores has a broken arm, and she’s lost consciousness. I think her husband is dead. They were the closest to the door.” She didn’t mention herself, despite the vicious gash that stretched from her hairline nearly to her jaw.

Tony didn’t mention it either. He just started shifting rubble, careful not to destabilize the pile.

The last collapsing building he’d gone into had been full of dead bodies, and there had been the shattered remains of someone impossible to identify on the street outside. One death and one broken arm was a hell of a lot better than he’d expected.

His chest started to ache halfway through shifting the pile, and the armor’s cooling fans were wheezing loudly enough that he could hear them even over the roar of the fire and the sound of engines and gunfire overhead. English fighter planes, this time; the Merlin engine had a different pitch than the Daimlers and Jumos that powered Messerschmitts, Junkers, and Heinkels.

Junkers and Heinkels with Stark Industries-inspired bomb sites, thanks to dear old dad selling SI’s designs to anyone who could pay for most of the thirties.

Without the armor’s gauntlets, his hands would have been a mass of burns by now, past the point of uselessness. As it was, the metal was starting to get uncomfortably hot.

“Right. I think that’s done it,” the woman announced. She coughed, holding the end of her sleeve over her face, then went on, her voice hoarse. “We’ll pass Mrs. Shores up to you first.”

Tony gave her his most charming smile; the helmet would hide it, but those kind of things came through in the voice. “If I weren’t wearing this metal helmet, I could kiss you.” He’d expected frightened, panicking people, or shell-shocked casualties too stunned by disaster to be any help to him.

She touched the back of her hand to her forehead, pushing back hair sticky with blood, then winced. Whatever had cut open her face had also raised a bruised lump the size of a silver dollar over her left eye, and it was already starting to swell shut. “Not with the way I probably look,” she said.

“I like my women covered in soot and plaster dust,” Tony assured her. Then the armor’s low power warning sounded.

No more time for flirting with strangers who probably needed medical attention more than they needed attention from Tony Stark. He tore one of the sleeves off the now-smoldering overcoat and wrapped it around his gauntlets, insulation between the hot metal and the next person he touched. “Pass Mrs. Shores up.”

They had rigged up a crude stretcher using parts of a folding chair and several blankets. The woman on it was old enough to be Tony’s mother, and her left arm was a bloody, swollen mess. She didn’t even twitch when he hauled the stretcher up and over the remains of the rubble, even when a shower of sparks from the ceiling fell onto her dress and Tony had to clumsily pat them out.

He should have installed some kind of fire-fighting upgrade weeks ago. It was ridiculous to be putting out sparks with his hands, not to mention incredibly inefficient.

“Who the hell are you, and what are you doing to that woman?”

Tony whirled, automatically bringing up one hand – the repulsors he’d designed as flight stabilizers could take care of any human attacker as easily as they could a German plane – then forced himself to relax when he saw the distinctive shape of a civil defence helmet. “Trying to get her out of here.” It was a cliché, but- “I’m here to help.”

The air warden stared at him for a moment, then shook his head. “The little girl said there was a robot. I thought she was hysterical.” His Cockney accent was thick enough that he sounded almost like he was speaking a foreign language, all swallowed consonants and sharp vowels. “What are you?”

Almost out of power, according to the buzzer sounding annoyingly in his ear. “There are more people down there, and the ceiling’s about fifteen minutes away from caving in. You can gape at me later.” He held up one hand, and fired the repulsor at one-sixth power for a fraction of a second, just enough to shred his makeshift woolen ‘glove.’ “I even do tricks.”

The air warden called him an uncomplimentary name, but more people were arriving now, hustling bombing victims out of the building and throwing wet blankets down across the partially cleared entrance to cellar to make it easier for people to crawl out. Tony waiting just long enough to see the woman with the injured face emerge from the rubble, then left.

There was more he could have done – there was always more – but he wouldn’t be able to help anybody if he ran out of power and passed out.

He made it most of the way back to Bletchley before the armor’s power reserves ran dry and he had to switch to the nearly-empty battery powering his chest device. By the time he landed, and was climbing back through the window of his supposedly-secure room, the armor tucked back inside his briefcase, Tony could almost feel the shards of shrapnel moving around inside his chest.

He plugged himself into the electrical outlet by the nightstand and collapsed backward onto the bed, too exhausted to care how he was going to hide the blisters on his hands tomorrow.

His window faced southeast. Outside it, he could see London burning on the horizon.

[marredbyoverlength]

Super-Roundup: June and July 2017

I was out of town during June Roundup Week, so I pushed it all into this super-roundup.  Buckle up.

The Mummy (2017) Dir. Alex Kurtzman. Starring Tom Cruise, Sofia Boutella, Annabelle Wallis. For a cynical cash-in, The Mummy had a lot of cool ideas. I liked the history surrounding the evil mummy, and the monster-hunter group led by Dr. Jekyll (Russell Crowe), and even parts of the silly conclusion. There’s probably a good movie in there somewhere. But alas, those good ideas were stifled under a thick, grey blanket of unfeeling money-grubbing. Why is Tom Cruise in the film? Because Tom Cruise Makes Money. Why is every shot the same dull grey color? Because the Marvel and DC movies are grey, and those movies Make Money. The film isn’t bad exactly, but it is soulless. 5/10.

The Book of Henry (2017) Dir. Colin Trevorrow. Starring Jaeden Lieberher, Naomi Watts, Jacob Tremblay. A true cinematic disaster, magnificent in its ability to fail in ways I never dreamed possible. What begins as an inane precocious-kid flick rapidly morphs into one of the more baffling movie plots I have ever experienced, all while clinging to a totally inappropriate feel-good tone. Ever wanted to see a movie where Sarah Silverman kisses a preteen boy on the lips? This is the film for you! 2/10.

Baby Driver (2017) Dir. Edgar Wright. Starring Ansel Elgort, Lily James, Kevin Spacey. Nobody shoots action like Edgar Wright. Baby Driver is a fast-paced, high-energy car flick with a surprising amount of heart. It gets a lot of mileage out of its terrific supporting cast, especially a deranged Jamie Foxx and a slick Jon Hamm. Sometimes the dialogue gets a little hokey, and the ending stretches credulity, but overall it’s well worth the watch. 8/10.

Okja (2017) Dir. Bong Joon Ho Starring Ahn Seo-Hyun, Tilda Swinton, Jake Gyllenhaal. A semi-entertaining story about a girl and her genetically-engineered superpig. I guess this is supposed to be satire, but I’m not sure who it’s directed at. Is this anti-corporatist? Pro-vegetarian? Anti-GMO? Its total lack of focus leaves it with a toothless The Answer Lies Somewhere In The Middle message barely worth the film it’s stuck to. Not that there aren’t funny moments—Paul Dano is especially great as an animal rights revolutionary—but they don’t add up to much. The film has way more ambition than intelligence. 4/10.

I Don’t Feel At Home In This World Anymore (2017) Dir. Macon Blair. Starring Melanie Lynskey, Elijah Wood. Macon Blair’s directorial debut is a lot of fun and has some impressive flashes of style: one scene stands out in particular, where a painkiller-addled Melanie Lynskey watches a garish reverend lip-sync the soundtrack. But these stylistic efforts felt constrained, or maybe unconfident, which makes sense for a first-time director. Worth watching just for Elijah Wood as Lynskey’s weirdo neighbor. 7/10.

Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017) Dir. Jon Watts. Starring Tom Holland, Michael Keaton, Jacob Batalon. Easily the best of the MCU movies for a simple reason: it’s consistent. Spider-Man is a fun IP, and Homecoming is a fun movie, nailing the inherent humor of a high-school superhero. And Michael Keaton’s Vulture is a strong contender for Best MCU Villain (though I think Ultron still beats him). But while the film hints at some interesting class-conflict themes, it instead centers on an underdeveloped coming-of-age story that left me wondering what Peter actually learned. 7/10.

The Beguiled (2017) Dir. Sofia Coppola. Starring Colin Farrell, Nicole Kidman, Kirsten Dunst. A creepy Southern-isolation aesthetic and strong performances from the entire cast, especially Kidman and my perennial favorite Elle Fanning, aren’t enough to save this movie from itself. It’s a character-driven movie where the characterization is inconsistent, making it difficult to care about anyone, much less divine a sense of purpose from the film. The last act in particular feels totally out of nowhere. 5/10.

Dunkirk (2017) Dir. Christopher Nolan. Starring a bunch of interchangeable white guys and Mark Rylance. This is Nolan’s best movie in a long time, but boy was I still bored stiff.  Between the film’s confusing temporal structure, its cast of indistinguishable actors, and its allergy to characterization, it’s difficult to figure out what the heck is going on in any given scene and even harder to care about it. But the film deserves praise for its stunning visuals and flashes of something approaching emotion. Nolan is at his best when tethered to reality. 4/10.

Atomic Blonde (2017) Dir. David Leitch. Starring Charlize Theron, James McAvoy, Sofia Boutella. Very cool, to the exclusion of all other substance. Charlize Theron is a great action hero wasted on a character and story with no depth. But it’s entertaining, despite its lack of ambition, because of the wonderfully choreographed action sequences and visual sense of Cold-War paranoia. 6/10.

A Ghost Story (2017) Dir. David Lowery. Starring Casey Affleck, Rooney Mara. Absolutely beautiful. If you can swallow the premise (Casey Affleck is a ghost wearing a bedsheet with eyeholes), you’re rewarded with an emotionally gripping extended visual metaphor of enormous power, exploring grief, loss, and the very human habit of tethering emotions to places and things. But don’t go to this movie expecting a plotline. 9/10.

The Emoji Movie (2017) Dir. Tony Leondis. Starring T.J. Miller, James Corden, Anna Faris. I want to die. 1/10.

The Diary of a Teenage Girl (2015) Dir. Marielle Heller. Starring Bel Powley, Kristen Wiig, Alexander Skarsgard. Believable, authentic, but ultimately not much more than a run-of-the-mill coming-of-age story. Bel Powley is great as a 15-year-old girl who has a sexual affair with her stepdad, but the rest of the film doesn’t match her personality. 6/10.

Calvary (2014) Dir. John Michael McDonagh. Starring Brendan Gleeson, Kelly Reilly, Chris O’Dowd. Calvary is one of those rare films that manages to balance comedy and melancholy without detracting from either. Brendan Gleeson is excellent as a small-town Irish priest of a wayward flock, and Kelly Reilly is just as good as his daughter (from before he donned the cloth), who struggles with depression. Each individual scene is excellent, and they’re gorgeously framed, but the lack of fluid transition between them makes a thematically consistent film feel disjointed. 8/10.

Mallrats (1995) Dir. Kevin Smith. Starring Jeremy London, Jason Lee, Shannen Doherty. Defiantly juvenile for a film that tries sometimes to be emotionally serious. Where the heroes of Clerks felt like vulgar adults, these characters feel like immature kids. They’re difficult to root for, and the overall amateur look of the film doesn’t give you much to grab onto. But it does pick up a bit at the end. 4/10.

Slacker (1991) Dir. Richard Linklater. Starring: Nobody in particular. Slacker is a series of conversations between mostly unrelated characters in Austin’s early-90’s counterculture. The film is almost purposefully ugly, shot on grainy film with bad equipment, sometimes with the boom mic in the shot. With no characters or visuals to lean on, the film lives and dies by its conversational vignettes. Some are strong: I am particularly fond of the two women who pass out cards from Brian Eno’s “Oblique Strategies” deck to passersby as an art piece. But others totally miss, including the vignette at the very beginning starring Linklater himself. 6/10.

The Conversation (1974) Dir. Francis Ford Coppola. Starring Gene Hackman, John Cazale. A film that survives entirely on tension and suspicion, heightened by one of Hackman’s best performances and an all-time great score. But the plot is a little too thin to sustain the runtime, making the conclusion feel abrupt. 7/10.