#however this job isn’t a big corporate screw the little man i work for my college | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bewaretheidesofmarchyall · 4 years ago

Text

Good Omens AU Part Four

It’s back. Original is here

Wilbur didn't expect to care about Tommy, but he accepted it pretty quickly.

---------

There wasn't much to bring with him the day he moved to town. After all, it wasn't like he'd actually need to renovate the house.

He stood on the curb in front of the remnants of the house that burned down a decade ago, suitcase in hand. A bit of a fixer-upper, but I can work with this.

After checking to make sure there weren't any nosy neighbors watching, he reached out to the debris.

The charred wood and scattered bricks twitched for a few seconds, before assuming the appearance of a lovely home.

A doorbell, a porch, windows in a shade of cobalt blue, and above all else the distinct feeling that Wilbur's house (and by extension, Wilbur) had been around on the block for ages.

Even if the neighbors didn't know who he was or what he did, they would have to struggle to think of him as a stranger.

And they had their own petty human lives, which didn't contain the time or energy to waste worrying about a charming new addition to the neighborhood.

Wilbur strolled into his perfectly average house, plans whirring in his head.

Showtime.

--------------

There were quite a few houses on the block, but Wilbur was only focusing on a group of three.

House #1: Tommy's home, three houses away. A simple house that contained the most important person in the world and his intimidating dad.

House #2: That Weird Guy's house, two houses away. Wilbur had no idea who That Weird Guy was, but he was apparently close friends with Tommy's dad, and even more intimidating. Wilbur wasn't sure why the kid was surrounded by people that made him worry for his life despite being immortal.

House #3: Schlatt's house, sadly next door. He didn't need additional proof that god hated him, but apparently they'd wanted to make it even clearer.

A week or so after he'd gotten settled into his new home, Wilbur decided to go outside to get a better look at the streetlamps and the night sky while trying to find his plan.

He was feeling surprisingly positive about the whole thing. Soon, he'd be changing the fate of the world.

If this didn't get him remembered after it all, nothing else would.

A hacking cough came from the porch next door, reminding him that he wasn't the only supernatural being on the block. Wilbur took a breath, trying to be civil.

Don't get distracted from the most important mission of your life because you want to murder a goat. Just walk on by. Just keep walking, and don't acknowledge his existence. You don't know him.

However, his unwanted neighbor had no qualms about acknowledging Wilbur's existence, and he'd only taken a couple of steps onto the street before Schlatt called out to him.

"Well, would you look at that: You’re finally out of the house! This is more of a miracle than anything I’ve done.".

Wilbur turned around, counting down the seconds until he could not be where he was, having this conversation.

"Schlatt, we're supposed to be undercover."

"Oh, my bad. Guess these random humans will never get to know our big secrets.". Schlatt raised his voice slightly, yelling to the deserted cul-de-sac.

"Would be a shame if someone found out that guy over there is a demon! Yeah, the jerk with the beanie's from Hell, and I'm an angel, and we're only pretending to be human because (get this) one of the little tykes on your block is actually the antichrist!".

Wilbur pinched the bridge of his nose. Was it possible to get headaches when his mind was only semi-corporeal?

"Could you kindly shut the fuck up?"

"Nope.". I mean, that's kind of on me for phrasing it as a question.

Schlatt took a break from the Annoying Wilbur Show (airs all times that he has the poor idea to go outside) to dig into more of his tomato sauce and meat wraps.

He raised the snack like it was a holy relic. Wilbur supposed that if Schlatt really wanted to, he could make it into one.

"These are Hot Pockets. I was actually planning on taking a few over to you-know-who's family as a housewarming gift, build up good favor, you know?". Suddenly, the plan clicked in Wilbur's head. He tried to keep his face neutral and concerned, with no hint of a smirk.

"Hot Pockets? I mean, are you sure?"

"What's wrong with Hot Pockets? And choose your next words carefully.". Wilbur leaned against a streetlamp, sighing in assumed pity.

"There's nothing wrong with Hot Pockets per se. They're fine, I guess.". Schlatt sputtered, offended beyond belief.

"Fine? Fine? You see before you the one thing that has made me reconsider starting the apocalypse, and you're like "eh. fine". Fuck you and your family and whatever you call taste buds. Fine? I'd tell you to go to hell, but that doesn't work, so go to New Jersey you son of a-".

This continued on for a while.

Wilbur nodded along to the tirade, maintaining a poker face. All the while, he telekinetically inched the tray of wrapped (?) Hot Pockets towards him.

The tray crept ever closer, past Schlatt's lawn chair, past Schlatt's nightmarish garden gnomes, past the freshly dug earth that definitely had a body buried under it, until it was finally within reach.

Without listening to another word, Wilbur grabbed the Hot Pockets and ran for the hills, easily outrunning the outraged angel.

Sorry, Schlatt, but you're going to have to try harder to win this game.

He sprinted to House #1 and rang the doorbell, trying to look non-suspicious. After about a minute, he got an answer from the selected father (Phil, his name was Phil).

Wilbur smiled brightly and walked into the house.

------------

The initial meeting went great, putting the whole "getting threatened with a knife" thing aside.

Phil seemed to appreciate the Hot Pockets and company, and Wilbur could confidently guess that he'd managed to secure a place in helping him out in the future.

Besides being good for the plan in general, he'd liked spending time around Phil and Tommy. Wilbur didn't get to talk to people a lot, and when he did it was normally trying to scam them out of their soul.

So, this was a welcome break.

And his heart definitely hadn't been warmed when Tommy had fallen asleep to the sound of his guitar. Nope. Absolutely none of that.

Phil evidently didn't see child raising as his first priority, and Wilbur found more chances to volunteer to watch his kid than he expected.

At times, he felt like he was just as much of a parent to Tommy as Phil, if not more.

Which wasn't to say that he felt any bitterness about that. Quite the contrary. Watching after Tommy was one of the best parts of his day.

Despite being a baby, the kid already had so much personality, and his little face would light up whenever Wilbur went home to House #1.

When Wilbur held the baby in his arms, he really did feel like a guardian.

The phrase "guardian angel" had stung, but he did want to shield Tommy from harm or becoming anything like him when he grew up.

Still, it's not like his heart was at all warmed when he held Tommy in his arms-Oh, screw it. His heart was warmed. He happened to care about the adorable baby that he spent a lot of time with. Go figure.

Caring wasn't interfering with his job as a protector, informant for Hell, and general influencer of evil. So, there was no purpose in denying it.

Besides the unexpected emotional attachment, nothing really changed about the general routine.

His days consisted of maintaining the glamours around his house, reading his books, writing (it turns out that an approaching Armageddon worked wonders for deadline motivation), staring at the ceiling and wondering why God had forsaken him, looking after Tommy, talking with Phil (and on occasion, That Weird Guy), giving the Lords of Hell their required project updates, and, occasionally, almost getting murdered.

One key example of the "almost getting murdered" thing happened when Tommy was around two years old.

----------------

He'd just gotten back from another meeting with the Lords (yes, Tommy is still alive. no, he isn't evil yet, seeing as he's two years old. no, that wasn't sarcasm. no, I'd actually prefer for you to not kill me for my insolence. Same old stuff.).

It was a cold yet sunny winter afternoon when Wilbur stepped out of the office building and back into the mortal world. As he made his way towards the bus station, his phone rang.

The call was from Phil, and he moved away from the middle of the sidewalk to take it, leaning against the brick wall of a building next to an alleyway.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Will, a job came up tonight without much notice. Would you be able to watch Tommy around 7-ish?"

"Sure, I can do that."

"Great, you're a lifesaver. One last thing: If Techno decides to question you about your motives and backstory, don't take it personally, he's just in one of those suspicious phases lately. Okay?".

Wilbur would have loved to agree, nonchalantly laugh it off, and quickly go over his backstory in his head again.

Unfortunately for him, there was a weapon aimed at him from the alleyway.

It would be a funny sight to the passerby to see a normal-seeming person cower in the face of a spray bottle.

Of course, the average passerby wasn't a demon.

9 times out of 10, when a spray bottle was pointed at a demon, the spray bottle was full of holy water and the demon was in for a bad time.

Wilbur stood there, frozen. The alleyway was shady, and he couldn't quite make out who was aiming the bottle at him.

Phil's voice echoed out of his phone.

"Will? Are you still there?". Wilbur tried to keep his voice steady, and he quickly responded.

"I'm here. I got it. I'll be ho-I'll be back soon. There is no need to call me back. Goodbye."

"What's that supposed to mean?". He tapped the screen, ending the call. Please, don't have me die right now. It would be annoying, not to mention narratively unsatisfying.

He looked into the alleyway, addressing whoever had seen fit to threaten him today.

"Hi there. I'm guessing that spray bottle isn't full of Sprite.".

A man in a blue onesie (Sonic the Hedgehog cosplay?) emerged from the shadows.

"Yep. I mean, it technically was Sprite until it went through the blessing process, but it's a lot holier now.". Wilbur blinked a few times in confusion.

"Connor?"

"Hey."

"What's with the outfit? Why are you threatening me in an alley? What's with the outfit?"

"Don't mock the outfit, I have it on good faith that this is the height of human fashion."

"Let me guess. Schlatt told you that.".

The onesie-clad angel stood there, realizing that taking the advice of that particular coworker probably wasn't the smartest decision he'd ever made. Eventually, he shrugged it off.

"Well, I feel resplendent, so this is a win in my book.". Wilbur tapped the bricks on the wall, almost playing a rhythm.

"Listen, Connor, if you were just going to kill me with that thing you would have already pulled the trigger. Why are you here?". Connor looked a little sheepish about the whole thing.

"The higher-ups thought that I should make you an offer you can't refuse. Basically, some intern had the bright idea that we should have Hell's guardian either agree to spy for us or die."

"You're suggesting that I become a double agent?"

"Yeah. Or die, whichever is your preference."

"I think your higher-ups underestimate my importance here. Killing me won't slow our side down by much. They'll just send another guy, and you'll have to spend more time in unpleasant alleyways."

"And someday they'll send a guy who takes our offer. Trust me, we've been planning this ever since we realized Schlatt was going to be useless down there.". Wilbur thought about it.

Killing god obviously matters more than prolonging my life. And I'm a good actor, but I don't have enough time in my life to be a triple agent.

"Come on, Connor. I thought you were one of the decent ones.". Connor half-heartedly kicked at a puddle.

His face was reluctant, but he still aimed the spray bottle with precision.

"Please tell me you're going to accept the offer?"

"You've known me for years. What do you think?"

"From what Schlatt has told me, you're too stubborn for your own good.". Wilbur laughed at that.

"Yeah. So the real question is: Can you murder me, Connor?". Connor shuffled, and the spray bottle wavered. Wilbur continued talking.

"I'm actually interested to see what you do next. You've got my full attention.". The two of them stood there, completely still. Finally, Connor pointed the spray bottle away from Wilbur and aimed for the sky.

"You've kind of made this whole thing weird, man. So, I'll give you a 15-second head start.".

Wilbur didn't waste time thanking him, and he sprinted away.

He fled through shadows and smoke, barely remembering to keep some trace of a physical body. He scrambled his way towards the bus station, reaching the glass doors.

However, that was where his luck ran out.

"Sorry, Wilbur. That's the power of the Sonic onesie: I'm really fast.".

I'm going to need to invest in a Sonic onesie. Except I can't, because I'm about to be shot. Fuck, those are terrible last thoughts.

Out of desperation, he grabbed the lid of the spray bottle and twisted it off, before punching Connor in the gut. The angel doubled over, and the holy water spilled out of the bottle.

Wilbur scrambled away from the spill, trying to keep from making contact.

He ran through the doors and into the bus station.

Some of the holy water had gotten on his coat, and he awkwardly shrugged it off in a corner, which was a shame. He'd really liked the aesthetic of having a trench coat. Sure, he could glamour another one in a few seconds, but it wouldn't feel the same.

Connor walked towards him, and Wilbur glared.

"You made me lose my trench coat!"

"Again, sorry about all of this, it was just business.". Connor held out his arm in an almost peaceful gesture.

And Wilbur, tired and overconfident, made the first stupid decision for the day. He took the peace offering and took Connor's hand.

The white-hot pain nearly knocked him to the ground.

There had been less than a drop of holy water on his hand, but it was more than enough to stop Wilbur from breathing for a few minutes.

In and of itself, that was fine. He didn't need to breathe to stay alive. All that he had to do was stay away from holy things, what had he done.

In the background, Connor was frantically apologizing and claiming that he "didn't mean to do that". Wilbur wondered distantly why he'd still be lying to him.

And here I was thinking that there were one or two decent angels. How laughable.

No one's decent 14 years from Armageddon. Not humans, not angels, and not me.

Wilbur shoved Connor away and walked up to the ticket counter.

His hands were shaking and his words all over the place, but somehow he managed to convey that he wanted to take a bus back to town and pay for it.

If I can get back to my house, I should be okay. Or, at the very least, not dead.

The bus ride was tricky. For one, part of the route was along Fundy's cursed highway (one of the demon’s more useless inventions), so things were significantly slowed down.

Also, everything felt far away and cold, and it was a bit difficult to keep focus on which stop was his.

It took far too much time to reach town, and even more to make his way back to his street.

On auto-pilot, he ended up at House #1 first, panicking slightly when neither Tommy nor Phil was inside.

Trying to keep calm, he checked House #2, and thankfully That Weird Guy (he knew his name was Technoblade, but that was a ridiculous name, and he'd been thinking of him as That Weird Guy for so long that it was hard to stop) was keeping watch over Tommy. Relief washed over him.

I don't know what I'd do if he got hurt.

That Weird Guy seemed fine with taking care of Tommy for a little longer, which Wilbur was secretly grateful for.

He also seemed convinced that Wilbur was going to pass out, which was hilarious, seeing as Wilbur didn't need to sleep or breathe unless he wanted to.

After a brief moment of rest in a bush, he made his way to his house.

He tried to unlock the door, but his hands were trembling too much to use the key, and he was seeing two locks instead of one, and he slowly slid to the ground.

Is this actually how it's happening?

I know I'm not long for this world, but I always expected a better exit. Something with fanfare and sacrifice and meaning.

Our so-called "immortality" is a conditional one. The instant we dare to touch something holy, it all goes, and there's no soul or afterlife for us castaways.

I wish I was human.

Wilbur struggled to look up at the sky.

It was still daytime, and the stars weren't out yet. That was a shame, he'd worked hard on those. He shivered.

I know we're doomed to fail come Doomsday. I know that there's no way out of Your ineffable plan. But I'm trying to make directorial choices with your script, trying to make a good story. This is a terrible ending.

It was quiet. That was probably for the best.

Do I deserve it?

Of course I do.

But I didn't always, and you're not blameless either.

I hope that Tommy's too young to remember me.

The world was cold, but peacefully quiet, and the pain was mostly beyond his reach. This wasn't bad, all things considered. Wilbur's eyes closed.

A few minutes later, he was rudely awakened by Phil shaking him.

"Are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re not, but can you stand?". He opened one eye.

"I'm fine.". Phil laughed at that. Part of Wilbur considered laughing along, while what was left of his common sense informed him that Phil sounded like he was laughing out of shock.

"Fine? Will, there were a few seconds where I thought you were dead!"

"Well, as you can see, I'm not. If you could just unlock the door, that would be great.". The door unlocked behind him.

He struggled to rise to his feet, and Phil caught his arm, supporting him.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"Minor business conflict."

"There is a hole in your hand.”

"That happens at my job sometimes. I'm in the mafia."

"Have you considered other career options?"

"The insurance benefits are too good.". Phil set Wilbur down on a couch and left the room. As was to be expected.

Wilbur reached under the couch cushions to grab a hidden cigarette lighter.

He had no intention of smoking while bleeding out, obviously.

The cigarette lighter had been modified slightly, another one of Fundy's inventions.

The fire of the lighter was no regular thing, but rather hellfire. Hopefully, that would be enough of a cure.

The warmth of the hellfire slowly and painfully chipped away at the ice and purity, and he took a few seconds to internally mock god.

Maybe a bit of a hubris-related thing to do, but Wilbur was glad to live another day, and that meant spite.

For whatever reason, Phil stuck around to make sure he was okay.

Wilbur hadn't quite expected that.

He wasn't in the best state, but Phil seemed to believe that it was better for him to be talking than unconscious.

So, in a half-delirious state, he rambled about mercy, and free will, and falling.

And when he whispered that he missed flying, he could have sworn that Phil agreed.

----------------------

Anyway, aside from dramatic moments like those, life was okay.

Wilbur was there for every milestone in Tommy's life, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

He was there for his first few words when Tommy was a baby (the first word was "kaboom", but the second was "Wilby").

He was there for his first steps, and once Tommy learned to walk there was no stopping him from running everywhere.

He was there for preschool graduations and first days of kindergarten and beyond.

-----------------------

Of course, Wilbur's job was to teach the kid to want to kill god, and he tried to do that too.

From the moment Tommy learned how to read, Wilbur kept trying to get him to read Paradise Lost. Sadly, he was six and Milton wasn't to his taste at the moment.

Wilbur wasn't sure how well he did on that front, but he tried.

Either way, he wasn't sure if he raised a suitably evil kid, but he raised a good one.

Not good as in morally, obviously. Tommy was still a rascal at times, but he was the rascal that Wilbur cared about.

-----------------------------

Wilbur was the one to teach him how to ride a bike.

Tommy was so determined to learn how to do it, and he kept getting up even when his knees were scratched up from crashing.

When putting on band-aids, sometimes Wilbur would slightly heal him. Not so much that he wouldn't know to be careful, but just enough to ease the pain a bit.

Wilbur also taught him other valuable life skills like lock picking, lying, good taste in music, and how to pick pockets. The stuff every kid needed to know!

His reports to the Lords of Hell became less clinical, and more chatting about Tommy finally figured out how to ride a bike, and he's getting good grades in language arts, and he likes musicals too, and he's such a wonderful kid.

They'd mostly stare in confusion, and awkwardly ask him how that was helping Satan.

--------------------------

And he knew that every birthday meant that the two of them were one year closer to Doomsday.

And he knew that he wasn't going to survive Doomsday.

Wilbur had a feeling since the moment he first fell that he'd have to redeem himself or go out in a blaze of glory. And, frankly, he felt too bitter towards his creator to aim for a redemption arc.

So, when Tommy turned eight, he knew that he had eight years left to live.

And when he was ten, he knew he had six, and so on.

That didn't stop Wilbur from baking a cake for him and singing.

He cared about Tommy quickly, and he later grew to care for Phil, and maybe even he would be vaguely upset if That Weird Guy died.

Wilbur couldn't call this place a home, and he couldn't say they were his family, but it was the closest he'd ever gotten to that sort of thing.

And sometimes, he could fool himself into thinking it could stay like this.

-------------------------

Once, he'd made the mistake of trying to taunt Schlatt about it.

They'd been talking, and Schlatt made one too many jabs about how he spent his days babysitting.

He'd mocked the patch that Tommy had clumsily sewed into his new trenchcoat, and Wilbur got a bit annoyed.

"At least I've been doing my job and spending time with the antichrist! You've been completely useless down here, just sitting around in that lawn chair and drinking. I mean, it makes everything easier for me, but the fact still remains that I've been getting stuff done while you've been treating this like a paid vacation.".

Schlatt looked him dead in the eyes, setting down his glass.

"You think that you were smart, getting close to their family? Turning up the charm, making friends, stealing my goddamn Hot Pockets (which I'm still mad about)?". He laughed in his face.

"Wilbur, you're a fucking moron. You say that I haven't spent enough time around the family? You've spent way too much, and it's given you a bleeding heart."

"I don't have a-"

"Tommy's going to die in six years, you know. Kid's cute, but he's not going to survive the end of the world. He's a child, and God is God, and he's going to get smote like burnt chicken. It's just the facts.". Wilbur recoiled from him, hissing his next words through his teeth.

"Shut up."

"Did you even think about anything besides your own stupid martyrdom? Or were you too busy playing house and getting attachments? Face it, Wilbur: It's lunchboxes today, graves tomorrow.".

For once, Wilbur had nothing to say. No clever response, nothing. Just pure panic.

He touched the patch on his trench coat covering his heart, looking to the sky.

Please. I know you're a bastard. I know you hate me, and I hate you, and that can't change. But if you gave me some sign, some promise that you wouldn't hurt Tommy, I'd do anything.

As always, there was no response.

-----------------------------

Wilbur cared about Tommy, and he knew, and even if it was a weakness he couldn't stop.

All of Tommy's family cared about him, wanting him protected and alive.

But Schlatt?

Schlatt didn't give a damn about Tommy, and he never would.

There was no care weighing him down. And that meant that he had infinitely more options than everyone else.

#dream smp #dsmp #good omens au #beware the drafts of march #c!wilbur #sbi #sbi family dynamic #writing #fan fiction #wilbur soot

10 notes · View notes

bibbykins · 8 years ago

Text

Moonlight Reign Ch.3

A/N: Heeeere it is at long last. I got AP exams and tests to take so it looks like it’ll be a solid month before I update anything again, gotta get my college stuff in order bleh, but I'd love it if y’all asked me questions and what not!

Word Count: 2.4k

Chapter Summary: Yoongi gets answers, and it becomes time for you to say goodbye to someone

Warnings: Bones breaking, blood, violence, mention of panic attacks

You were silent the entire way home. Your brain was flushed with confusion, uncertainty, and a self-scolding voice that kicked in when you found yourself in situations like this.

“...Hoseok, he's the guy who knocked you out,” Jin was explaining the people in the gang you had been roped into, “He's a nice guy, really, he just is… protective,” You rolled your eyes, “Yoongi is the same way, he just really cares about this empire we got going,” Jin spoke and you noted the stark difference between Yoongi and the kingpins you were raised by, “I'm Jin, more of a corporate guy, but I can certainly throw down,” You broke a smile at his demeanor, and he noted that from the rearview mirror as he drove, Jungkook in the driver's seat, “That about does it, I figured you should know, since you're our nurse now.”

A nurse.

The playful nature in the car was wiped away at the reminder of all the events that went down today.

You were a fucking nurse now.

You were a fucking nurse again.

////

“And that's how you do stitches, cool huh?” Your father spoke as he stitched up your leg, “It's also a lesson on why you shouldn't accept the challenges the underlings give you,” He grumbled, “It's hard when the doctor is hurt.”

You giggled a bit, a 25-year-old underling bet a ten-year-old couldn't land one slash in a knife fight, and you won with a total of 14 slashes to his one. Your father preferred you to nurse more than fight, but he was not one to completely stop you, “But I won,” You whined.

He sighed, “And just because I win chess, doesn't mean I like giving up my queen.”

You nodded, “Why isn't there a princess in chess?” You asked, constantly curious.

“Because the king would die before he would sacrifice her,” His lips twitched upward for a moment as he stood, “I'll see you for dinner.”

////

“Y/n?” Jungkook flinched back as you were startled back into your shitty reality.

“What?”

“We're here, so did you need me to walk you-”

“What are you planning to do with Byungjoo?” You asked and Jin sighed, laying his forehead on the steering wheel.

“We can't tell-”

“Are you going to kill him?” You choked out of your throat that seemed to be trying to let out a sob.

You were overwhelmed, to say the least. Your uncle sold you out, and now you're in with a gang that is seeking the first man who broke your heart, your father, and you curse yourself for not wanting either shitty men to die. You wanted to cry. Crying used to make you feel so much better, but you never cried in front of people, so you were struggling to keep dry eyes.

Jungkook sighed, “Worse.”

You nodded, understanding that meant endless torture until he was begging to die. You clenched your fist as you recalled your own meeting with “worse”, “Jungkook, I need you to walk me to my place,” You whispered.

He huffed in response, “Why do I-”

“I am going to faint or go into a full-fledged panic attack, and I'd like to do that in the privacy of my home-”

You were cut off by Jungkook ripping you from your seat to the double doors of the complex.

Jungkook was well trained in your attacks since he was basically your only friend. Now he understood why certain things made you tick or freak out. Jungkook now understands why you were hyperventilating once upon seeing a man that looked like your uncle in a coffee shop, why you weren't scared of gangs, because you had faced the scariest ones of that time, “Okay, breathe, 1, 2, 3, 4,” He whispered in your ear.

By now, he knew the general routine. He caught you if you passed out, set out water for you, put an ice pack on your forehead, and practice breathing with you until you told him to leave so you could cry with a sense of dignity. However, he didn't know if he could help like that anymore if he's part of the reason you're in the state.

----

“Alright, Byungjoo, let's get straight to it,” Yoongi paced in front of the man tied to the metal chair, plastic surrounding him in the room that made Byungjoo sweat, “Where is your beloved brother?” Yoongi inquired.

“He’ll kill me,” He whispered, defeated and Yoongi grabbed Byungjoo’s left ring finger, breaking it as he screeched.

Yoongi chuckled, “Not if I have you,” He spoke accurately, “You see, let me tell you a story, hm? Maybe that'll wiggle an answer out of you,” He mused, “My parents were big technology buffs, did a lot of shady jobs, but for a big payout, you may know them, the Mins?” Byungjoo shuddered and began sobbing, as Yoongi snapped each finger on his right hand, “I was twelve when two men came into my house, and shot them, right in the head, sending a little girl with green hair to fetch me, she wore a face mask, but her eyes were so sympathetic, like she knew the situation well, and upon seeing a boy much older than her sobbing and trembling with fear, she took down her mask and mouthed the word, ‘run’ and I did, I ran and ran until I gathered up the resources to burn you to the ground,” Yoongi knelt down to eye level with Byungyeol, breaking another finger, “But you technically did that all on your own,” Yoongi chuckled as he looked at the broken man, “What a sad sight, wasted brawn and no brains, that's what made it so easy to show the world what you and your slightly smarter brother have done.” With that, Yoongi snapped the remaining fingers like twigs.

“He's...he's…” Byungjoo was coughing up blood after Yoongi struck his stomach, urging him to speak, “He’s at…”

----

“You can leave now,” You blanched, watching the news as the noticeably worried reporter offered more questions as to what exactly Bangtan will do tomorrow, and you wished to know the answers as well, “No? Not leaving?” No reply, “Then can I talk to Byungjoo before you kill him?”

You knew Byungjoo was weak, and you knew he gave up your father's location before Bangtan so much as made him bleed, so he had little time to live, and despite a mutual distaste for each other, it was customary to bid him goodbye, as family.

Jungkook shuffled from behind the couch you sat on, “I never said we would-”

“Please,” You cut him off, looking into his eyes, playing into whatever care he had for you, and it was working, “I won't try to kill him, I promise.”

“Fuck, y/n, you're really putting me in a tight spot,” He cursed and tears welled in your eyes.

“Look at me, Jungkook,” You pleaded, and he saw a girl with tear stained cheeks and nothing but pain all over, “You put me here, now please, let me see my uncle one last time.”

“I can't-”

“Call Yoongi,” Jin’s voice rang out from the door, “He'll allow it.”

“Y/n, you just had an episode, shouldn't you rest?” Jungkook seemed genuinely worried, but you shook your head, “Not until I talk to him.”

“I'll call Yoongi, okay?” You nodded, “Just go and rest for a bit at least, you need to slow down,” Jungkook negotiated and you relented, going to your room to lay down.

----

“What?” Yoongi’s deep voice greeted as Jungkook gulped at his angry tone

“Y-Y/n, she wants to talk to her uncle before we...are done with him,” Jungkook sighed.

“Why did you tell-”

“She's a mafia baby, not an idiot, come on,” Yoongi sighed this time, “She was freaking out earlier, and then suddenly she was begging to talk to him.”

“She's just trying to cope it seems,” Yoongi observed, “Bring her over, I'm sure he'd be delighted to see her with all the nonsense he's been babbling,” Yoongi looked over his shoulder to see a crying grown man hunched over.

“She did this… it's her fault…”

“Yeah, he may snap before I can kill him myself, he seems to have never been tortured before,” Yoongi mused, “But I got what I wanted so tick tock goes the clock, I'd head here quickly, I already sent Namjoon and some guys to fetch tomorrow's main event,” He looked at the clock, “Once I get Byungyeol, I have no reason to keep Byungjoo.”

“Hey, Min Yoongi!” Yoongi hung up as Jungkook cursed, “Y/n, let's hurry, now,” He called out as you scrambled to get ready to leave.

You situated yourself in the car as you reviewed today's events to steady your mind, “Min Yoongi, that's his full name, right?” You asked and Jungkook almost swung his head on the dashboard.

“Way to go, Kook,” Jin chuckled, “Just tell her all our secrets.”

“He's a world-known CEO screw you,” Jungkook seethed, “Besides she's one of us now.”

Jin simply shrugged as you shuddered.

“Min,” You racked your brain through each Min you killed, or helped kill, searching for why it is you haven't been dealt the same treatment, why you were given a job and not a death sentence, “How unbelievably common.”

“You okay?” Jin inquired upon hearing your mumbles.

You nodded, not bothering to keep track of where you were going, because you knew this would be the first of many times you would be encased in your new main headquarters, “Did I kill his family?” Jin shifted ever so slightly, “Nevermind, you can't answer that.”

The building that the car halted in front of was grand, looking like another company building, and in a literal sense, it was. Decked with minimal windows and a white exterior, the interior was fairly refined and modern. Too remote to stumble across, but even with, no would expect so much blood has been shed in the establishment that the walls could bleed red and no one would be surprised.

At the entrance you could see little worker bees rushing, just like a corporate office, except they were decked in various types of garb, holding various illegal substance and firearms. They stuck out like a sore thumb, but that was because no one would ever bear the pain of noticing them, even then the land was under their corporation, making the establishment legal, unlike its inner workings.

You caught the eyes of several busy bees, most likely wondering if that was the new addition they heard about, “Doesn't look like much,” You heard a few people mumble.

“Jimin has such a big mouth,” Jin cursed.

“Yes, I do,” Jimin concurred, walking towards you, “But when we have a legend as our pretty nurse, I can't help it,” Jimin was like a siren, beautiful, tempting, and dangerous, and he was giving you eyes that looked like a cage, “Hello, sweetpea,” He may as well have been a wolf licking his lips at the sight of a red hood, “Follow me.”

“You go with Jimin, Jungkook and I have to do some work,” Jin patted your shoulder, and you concluded Jin was trust itself.

“Don't be creepy,” Jungkook scowled at Jimin as he walked behind Jin.

“How is he doing?” You asked as Jimin led you to the soundproof basement.

“I thought you wanted him dead.”

“He deserves nothing less than a painful death,” You clarified, “But family is family, and believe it or not, my family had some certain customs, one of which is that we always say goodbye.”

“Why is that?”

“I wasn't picked up until I was able to walk,” You stated, since when your infamous father took in an infant, it spread like wildfire, engulfing your existence into just a mafia baby,”I was raised to only help when they figure out how to do it themselves, but if one of us never figure out how to live correctly, we have to help them say goodbye,” You explained as Jimin tried to register the philosophy, “Shit ones or not, family is family, it's the closest bond I've known.”

The basement was basically a prison with interrogation rooms that doubled as torture rooms. However, the color scheme was white, like a mental institution. How cryptically perfect.

Jimin led you down the never ending hallway, and opened a door to reveal a spectator area from a one-way mirror and in front of the mirror was Byungjoo, beaten, broken, and humiliated for the first time in his life. Yoongi was standing, watching him, “He's really lost it,” He mused, “He's gonna be dead when Namjoon gets here or when he does something I don't like, whichever comes first.”

“You found my father?” Yoongi took note of your mixed feelings and simply nodded.

Yoongi went to open the door to your uncle, “Be careful, he has no binding on him anymore, and I told him why he's here,” He warned and found himself amused by your quirked eyebrow as your question died in your throat when he opened the door and closed it behind you.

Yoongi watched through the window as you stood in front of your uncle, “Byungjoo,” Your voice was firm, “I've come to say goodbye,” Your voice shook as you watched your broken uncle and cursed yourself for feeling bad. Sure, you were ready to kill him, but your weakness was your empathy and he was utterly pitiful now.

“I'm gonna die?” He asked, throat dry. His pure confusion was almost heartbreaking.

You swallowed, nodding, “They found father, we're done, Byungjoo, for real this time.”

“You did this,” His voice was hoarse.

“What?”

“YOU LET HIM LIVE!” Byungjoo was now the one to dive at you, hand encasing around your neck as you hit the mirror glass hard with the back of your head, alarming Yoongi and Jimin who were encased within their mindless chatter.

Byungjoo showed no signs of letting up as he squeezed your neck with a vengeance, “NOT ONLY DID YOU SHOW YOUR FACE YOU LET HIM GO!”

Yoongi gripped the gun in his hand, which Jimin took notice of, "Wait, I thought you weren't going to kill him until he met with Byungyeol," Jimin reminded Yoongi.

The leader stared at the scene before him, his blood unintentionally boiling, "Well, he's doing something I don't quite like."

Your vision was becoming spotty as Yoongi and Jimin came running in, and you now knew why Yoongi was letting you live; you did the same for him, “By-Byunjoo-” You tried to reason with him before taking force, when he only squeezed harder, you kneed him in the stomach as Yoongi saw the chance to pull the husky man off of you. However, Byungjoo kept his grip, slamming your head into the ground you had slipped down to repeatedly, making the last thing you saw before you passed out was Byungjoo being shot in the head, the blood spraying onto your face.

269 notes · View notes

perpetually-jungshook · 8 years ago

Text

Hoseok: Emergency Personnel Meeting

Genre: AU, fluff, business man Hobi (feat. Namjin)

Summary: A mandatory company meeting gets spicy when someone shows up late.

Word Count: 2.7k

There are three words that every employee dreads. Three words that turn the stomach of every person no matter their position, pay-grade, or prestige. Three words that make you groan as soon as you open the email titled “Monthly Memo.”

Personnel Performance Review.

Beneath the big, bold, Copperplate fonted title is the expected mandatory public relations bullshit.

“Dear valued employee,

It has recently come to my attention that… etc etc… there has been a trend of decreasing sales, profit, employee satisfaction, and other important statistical figures… etc etc… so this Saturday, I will be hosting a mandatory workshop… etc-”

Wait. Saturday?

He wants you to come in on a Saturday? If you’d thought Kim Namjoon couldn’t be any more of an asshole than he already was, you were wrong.

The man couldn’t even use an autofill application to input individual names? No, he had to use a general “Dear employee.”

You huff, closing the email and opting to forget about it for the next few days. At least you’ll be getting overtime and hopefully they’ll buy those ridiculously good donuts that they served last time…

“A veggie plate?” you lament as you stare at the refreshment table.

“I know,” Seokjin, the only person you would call your “friend” in the entire office, sighs heavily. “All because fucking Linda is going through another three day health kick.”

“And it just happens to be now,” you pout before both of you burst out laughing.

Seokjin is an okay guy. The two of you make stupid jokes, talk shit about coworkers, and sit together during lunch. He isn’t necessarily someone you are close to, but he is the only person at work you don’t want to verbally fillet.

The funniest part is, for some reason, most people think Seokjin and you are dating… but he is the gayest man you’ve ever met.

“Alright, everyone, grab one of the blue folders from Linda near the door and please take a seat around the table or facing the projector,” Kim Namjoon’s recognizable deep voice floating through the room makes both of you grimace.

“Want to go get some pizza after?” Seokjin whispers as he hands you a blue folder and leads the way to your normal meeting-seats at the back of the room. There are about forty people crammed into this space meant to comfortably fit twenty.

You’ve never understood why they can’t just move the pretentious, grandiose table so that half of the attendees don’t have to squish into chairs propped against the walls- or even better- simply hold the meeting in a different room. But of course this is working under the assumption that there is any logic whatsoever behind Kim Namjoon’s decision making skills in the first place.

“Definitely. Are we going to pretend to split it like last time or just order two pizzas to begin with-?”

“Hopefully everyone read the email,” Mr. Kim impatiently clears his throat, clasping his hands behind his back. “But for those that did not…”

For some reason, he uses a pregnant pause to glare directly at you and Seokjin.

“We will do a brief review.”

Yeah, because if you didn’t read the whole thing the first time, you’d certainly pay attention the second time around. Honestly you don’t even know how you still have a job at this point.

Seokjin said it was because no matter how much you irritated him, the “boss man” had a thing for you. Every time he suggested it, you thought you’d die of laughter. Kim Namjoon? Have a thing for you? He’s a spoiled mama’s boy who inherited a small yet ridiculously successful company when she decided to retire early. He probably had enough money to at least shallowly impress any girl he wanted.

Still, it would explain why you get away with so much crap…

Just as Mr. Kim finishes his overview of all the statistical mumbo jumbo you never pay attention to, the meeting room door bursts open with a sharp squeal. All eyes are on the man who enters, bronze hair bedraggled, black tie haphazardly loose, dress shirt untucked, and part of his left pant leg stuck under a sock that’s printed with multicolored beach balls.

“Sorry I’m late,” he laughs loudly, brushing a few crumbs off of his suit jacket before flinging it to rest over his shoulder, sleeves hitting Linda in the face.

If it’s possible to growl without audibly making a sound, Mr. Kim has mastered that expression, but he quickly regains his composure to say, “Mr. Jung, please grab a blue folder and join us.”

“Sure thing, Namjoon,” the guy laughs again, ignoring the surprised murmur that passes through the room after hearing him speak informally to the boss.

Even you, in your business casual blazer, pastel blue blouse, and slacks wouldn’t dare look or ACT with half as risky behavior. Honestly, you’re a little embarrassed for him, but also mildly impressed.

“Anyway, as I was saying before that little interruption, sales are down this quarter. This may have something to do with…” Mr. Kim’s voice fades to the back of your attention as you watch the man he called “Mr. Jung” take a seat across the room in one of the few empty chairs.

You’ve never seen him before, which is strange considering there are less than fifty employees in the company’s corporate office. You know everyone, whether you want to or not, so that fact that his face is unfamiliar is slightly off putting- but mostly intriguing.

“Jin, do you know that guy?” you elbow Seokjin lightly, whispering to avoid Mr. Kim’s wrathful gaze and nodding toward Mr. Jung.

“No idea kiddo, but he’s cute. Oh he’s looking over here!”

You flush, “Jin, shut up!”

“Mr. Seokjin, Ms. ____, do you have something to add?” Mr. Kim’s cold tone sends chills through your bones. Mr. Kim calls everyone by their surname except Seokjin, but both of you think it’s because they have the same one.

“Nope, sorry sir,” Seokjin bites his thumb nail, obviously holding back a laugh.

“We were just…” your gaze flicks to the powerpoint behind him. “Admiring your beautiful charts.”

“Exactly,” your companion nods. “The beautiful charts.”

Mr. Kim’s eyebrows rise and he scratches the back of his neck, “Oh, alright. As long as you’re paying attention.”

“How could I not?” you give him your best smile.

“Okay, well, thank you. Ah… anyway, we’re here today to discuss possible solutions. If you open the blue folder, you’ll see the results of a few hundred surveys…”

The scratching of a pen draws your attention to the side. You find Seokjin smirking down at his lap and the crude sketch of a ridiculously overweight, evil looking version of Mr. Kim with a speech bubble saying, “Blah the donuts.”

You attempt to swallow the giggle that rises in your throat, “You know he might want that paper back, right?”

Seokjin’s eyes get wide and he begins to lightly scribble over it. As he cleans up his mess, you can’t help but look across the room.

Mr. Jung’s attention flicks back and forth between the presentation and the folder in his lap, but he is anything but idle. His fingers deftly begin correcting his business attire, tucking in his shirt and fixing his tie. His pant leg, however, stays stuck inside the beachball themed sock.

“Wait! Did the boss man say Jung?” Seokjin whispers excitedly, jabbing an elbow into your ribs.

“Yeah?”

Your companion’s smile brightens by a few lumens, “Jung Hoseok.”

“Hoe-what?”

“Hoseok. He’s from a branch office.”

“Branch office?”

Seokjin sighs heavily as if you’d just asked him why round things rolled, “Do you read the memos at all?”

“No?”

“We just opened a new building, our biggest building yet, apparently. Jung Hoseok is the store manager.”

You glance back at the young man across the room. He can’t be more than twenty five years old and that’s a generous estimation. Store manager at such a young age? That’s almost as ridiculous as Mr. Kim being CEO at- wait.

“Jin, do you think they’re friends?”

“Who?”

“Mr. Kim and Mr. Jung.”

“Maybe. I mean, he did talk to the boss man rather informally.”

You glance at your companion for a moment as he shuffles the papers in his lap, but decide that watching Jung Hoseok is a lot more interesting. Your eyes sweep back across the room, only to lock gazes with him.

Heat floods your cheeks and your attention naturally swings sideways in embarrassment, landing rather conveniently on the presentation. Mr. Kim changes the powerpoint slide to reveal a cheesy, fancy card with the words “coffee break” in an irritatingly calligraphic font.

“Please consider these options while you mingle. We will begin discussion in ten minutes.”

What options? Had you missed something? Never mind, of course you did. You hadn’t listened since the meeting started thirty minutes ago.

Seokjin melts in his chair, “How fast do you think we could run to the vending machine to get Poptarts? Or do you think Linda screwed that up too? I’m starving and vegetables just aren’t gonna cut it.”

“Well if you decide to go, grab me a pack? I’ll pay,” a new voice takes the words right out of your mouth- though you’d never offer the reimbursement. Seokjin’s gaze lifts and a smile lights his expression.

You don’t even need to look to know who it is, namely because out of the corner of your eyes, you can see the beachballs.

“Sure thing, cutie,” Seokjin rises, only pausing long enough to whisper in your ear. “I’m telling you, he was looking over here and I’m pretty sure he was looking at you~”

“Jin!” you shove him away and he scurries toward the door, giggling.

A few moments of silence pass between you and Mr. Jung until he slowly, carefully takes a seat beside you, lips pursed playfully and eyes darting around with an air of innocence that almost makes it funny.

“So…” he practically hums. “Do you like Namjoon’s presentation so far?”

And there was that informality again. The prospect of them being friends unsettles you enough to make you watch your words.

“It’s alright. Very informative.”

Mr. Jung rolls his eyes, laughing, “Please, don’t lie. We’ve both been to funerals that were more entertaining.”

Is this a test? Your palms start to sweat, but you’re not sure if it’s because you’re suspicious or simply due to the fact that you’re sitting so close to an attractive person.

He looks at you expectantly, so you crack a nervous smile, “Mr. Jung-”

“Hoseok, please.”

“Hoseok,” a pleasant warmth spreads in your chest as you say his name. “Is that really something you should say about your boss? Especially since he’s right there?”

Both of you glance at Mr. Kim, who’s currently having a hushed argument with Linda near the untouched veggie plates.

“Eh, I’ve known the kid since he was in diapers. Expensive diapers, but still shitting his pants. There’s nothing he can say that’ll faze me,” Hoseok winks. “Granted, I was also shitting my pants at the time…”

This comment earns a laugh. But it also means they have been friends for a while.

“Really though. He’s boring. Too stiff.”

“Yeah, okay. He is,” you admit, crossing your arms and failing to suppress a smile.

Your companion brightens, “The man’s so boring, he can’t even wear a tie with fun colors. I tried to give him one with little suns with sunglasses on it. I thought it was cute, but I’m pretty sure he threw it away.”

“What? How could he do that to such a nice gift?” you bask in the blush that dusts across his cheeks, immense joy bubbling into your chest. “I’m sure he still has it somewhere, even if it’s deep in his closet.”

“Ah, erm, you think so?” hope sparkles in his eyes.

“Definitely. You’ve got wonderful taste. I mean, just look at your socks!”

He glows with the compliment and there’s something so genuinely innocent about his reactions that feels like a breath of fresh air, especially in the context of the rancid apathy you usually find in the business world.

“Thank you,” he coos. “I couldn’t decide between these and a pair with kittens today, but I guess I made the right choice.”

“I don’t know… what color were the kittens?”

Hoseok laughs, relived as soon as he understand you’re just teasing, “Orange.”

“Oh yeah, definitely beachballs. I think Mr. Kim might have had a stroke if you showed up with cute orange cats on your socks.”

“That’s so true!” he nods enthusiastically, but then takes in a shaky breath. “Right… Okay… Anyway, you seem to know my name. But I have no idea who you-”

“Mr. Jung, Ms. ____,” Mr. Kim’s stiff voice cuts Hoseok off. “It sounds like you two are getting along splendidly.”

“We’re having so much fun! At your expense of course,” Hoseok fires back humorously, but there is nothing playful in Mr. Kim’s returned expression. “Yah, Joon, lighten up. I’m kidding. Kind of. And how many times do I have to remind you to call me Hoseok? None of this ‘Mr. Jung’ stuff.”

“We’re in the office, Mr. Jung. We will address each other professionally.”

“Namjoon, I’ve seen you naked-”

“That was at a fraternity party five years ago and it was an accident,” Mr. Kim explodes, causing you to shrink into your seat.

Hoseok doesn’t even flinch, “Don’t worry about it. I wasn’t gonna show her the pictures.”

If a human had a boiling point, Mr. Kim had obviously just reached it. He looks about as red as a tomato and probably would’ve started yelling if it hadn’t been for the sudden arrival of a Poptart laden Seokjin.

“Alright gang, I’ve got s’mores, two strawberry, and blueberry for the boss man.”

Mr. Kim’s anger immediately fades like someone blew out a candle. His voice returns to its normal cool, collected nature, “That is very kind of you, Mr. Seokjin.”

And that’s when you realize. Namjoon doesn’t have a thing for you.

He has a thing for the person he must consider your best friend.

“My pleasure. Can’t have a hungry boss man while he’s presenting,” Seokjin says this through the forced smile of professionalism.

“I’ll take one of the strawberry packs. Thanks man,” Hoseok pulls a few bills out of his pocket, obviously more than twice what all the snacks cost. “Think you could go grab me one of those coffee bottles from the machine down the hall too?”

“But we’re about to start again,” Mr. Kim’s eyebrows knit in a mix of irritation and despair.

Hoseok taps his finger against his chin as if deep in thought, “Namjoon, you can go too. Make sure he doesn’t dally and all that.”

Seokjin looks like he’s about to protest; yet one look from you and he’s rolling his eyes, but nodding in what’s hopefully understanding. From your end, the message is clear: take Mr. Kim with you so I can be alone with Hoseok.

“Yeah, boss man,” Seokjin nods enthusiastically. “Maybe I’ll get us a coffee too.”

Mr. Kim clears his throat, “I guess I can’t argue with logic.”

In your visual periphery, you can see Linda approaching “Sir, we should probably-”

“Not now, Linda. I’m busy,” Mr. Kim shuts her down, much to her obvious surprise.

“But-”

“I’m busy. Break will be fifteen minutes.”

Seokjin gestures toward the door, “Shall we?”

Mr. Kim and your friend finally exit with a rather concerned Linda following a few steps behind. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Hoseok bursts out laughing, “I kind of feel bad for being an instigator, but at the same time… I totally don’t.”

This is the part in most fluff stories where things get cringy- if they haven’t already. Hoseok would tell you that he simply wanted to get you alone, away from Seokjin and Mr. Kim. He would flirt. You would flirt right back. You would exchange numbers and who knows? Maybe you’d take him up on that offer for a drink after the meeting instead of pizza with Seokjin. Maybe this fluff story would turn into smut.

But instead I’ll leave you here, simply alone with Hoseok, basking in the warmth of his smile and the joy of his laugh because all good things will eventually end. But this conclusion is, at least relatively, good.

✩✩✩♔✩✩✩

Send me your thoughts here. Or just come say hi ;) feedback is appreciated

Support me/Donate and get some super rad 😎 rewards

Much love ~🐰 xx

#bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #hoseok #hoseok fanfiction #hoseok fluff #business hoseok #hoseok au #jhope fanfiction #jhope fluff #jhope au #hobi fluff #bts one shot #hoseok x reader #reader x hoseok #jhope x reader #reader x jhope #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #namjin

102 notes · View notes

spiralingworm · 8 years ago

Text

Horizon: Atheism Dawn

Warning: I will be spoiling some of the Horizon lore and pretty big story plot points. Maybe don't read this, if you plan on finishing Horizon: Zero Dawn.

youtube

Horizon is an exceptional game in my eyes. From the very beginning till the very end I was engaged in Aloy story. The combat system certainly helped in keeping me hooked, because for every secret the world had to offer there was a satisfying fight to back it all up. Giant robo dinosoaurs roaming the land are the best thing I encountered on my PS4. There is this strangely satisfying feeling of aiming at specific machine parts, releasing the arrow and watching green damage indicator going up. The sounds...

(Photo Mode #1)

The sound feedback you receive as a player is just awesome. You know when you made a good shot , you know when you should dodge and you know when you screwed up. Only thing better than sound in this game are the visuals. This game just looks gorgeous. I don't know how exactly Guerilla was able to pull this out, but I am pretty happy for them. Especially because I got to play this awesome game, and engage in this beautiful and rich world. Rich in lore and sense.

(Photo Mode #2)

This game just makes sense. Everyone here happens for a reason and pretty much everything is explained in some way. By the end you know everything you should know and you are eager to learn more. The world is filled with small lore that explains small quirks that the old ones bothered with. There are the obvious comedy holo letters, but you will also find some scary ones. Like how big corporations roamed the world and use their power to silence the criticism in brutal fashion.

(Photo mode #3)

The Old Ones understood the world and how all of this stuff works. Their technology was sophisticated and thanks to that they had the ability to create anything at will. Their multicultural society was beautiful. Technology lived side by side with religion and everyone was okay with it, because they had pretty good grasp on universe. Let's flash forward to present time. Tribal times.

Now for the bigger spoiling part.

There are three major tribes present in the game Banuk, Carja and Nora. All three of them have their own religion and reasoning behind those faiths. In many ways those humans are very primitive and they read the universe wrong. All three of them built their faith on wrong perception, because of insufficient data. Humans are scared of things they can't easily explain and religion gives you those answers and all are happy. Pretty much...

(Photo Mode #4)

Banuk live in their small village in peace with what are normally pretty aggressive machines. When you enter their tiny encampment you will see robots standing still and people worshiping them. Everything is of course in calming shade of blue. Banuk priests will tell you that their holy cries and prayings are the reason for all of this. That they can create the signal that somehow calms those creatures down. High above the village lies small easter egg from the old ones. The big ball that transmits calming signal to all creatures around. There is nothing magical about it.

youtube

(Random non-scripted encounters. The world just lives.)

Carja are praising the sun. Literally the sun is a god in their world. They are also the most civil ones among three you meet. They made some advancments in technology and society. Their new king is actually quite nice and reasonable man. Yet they still think this big ball of fire in the sky has consciousness and is responsible for life on earth. Well it is partially true, but not in the sense Carja believe. The point that they get right is the understanding that sun treats everyone equally. Burning everyone the same way... well depending on you geographical location.

(Photo Mode #5)

So we arrive to the third tribe our tribe and by our I mean the tribe where Aloy was born. Nora worship the All-Mother deity which lives inside giant mountain. This tribe is lead by High Matriarchs and you are eligible for this title by being a grandmother, and you grandchildren need to be alive. I actually like this conditions, because if you are old enough for the job you probably know a little bit about life. Of course there are some exceptions and you will experience them playing the game, but hey it works. The deity is actually an artificial intelegence in charge of gatekeeping. Giant mountain is just a big vault of the old ones, and the key to opening the door is possessing correct DNA. Which no one in Nora tribe actually have so no one can actually enter the vault. Ironic isn't it?

(Seriously spoilers now)

So you play as an outcast Aloy from Nora tribe that needs to prove that she isn't the lesser one. Why she is an outcast? The vault is actaully a repopulation center left by the old ones and Aloy is the product of this place. Machines left her at the front gate soon after birth in hope that the tribe will take care of her. The twist here is that matriarchs treat her as impure, because All-Mother said so. Due to malfunction in DNA database AI just couldn't recognise her. So they banish a child which is unable to move it's limbs properly. Banishing to live alone in the wild that is. Thank fuck for another outcast Rost, because he took care of this little child.

(Photo mode #7)

I mean I could even kinda understand their position, because they don't know any better. However it is hard to not see a correlation between this world and our world. In both advancement of technology and religion trying to explain the world. I generally believe that the world will end by some genious scientist going a step too far. I generally believe that the world would be a better place if not for medieval ways of killing brilliant minds. I mean just think of it. What could Galileo accomplish, if not for the threats of literally burning him alive. That said religion is a great way to find morality in this cruel world, just not the only one.

Oh and by the way when Aloy starts to understand more of the world, by actually researching what The Old Ones accomplished, she is seriously sick and tired by this religious bullshit...

#horizon zero dawn #atheism #carja #nora #banuk #aloy #lovethisgame

0 notes

preciousmetals0 · 5 years ago

Text

Sprin(T)-Mobile; This Dish Is Bananas

Sprin(T)-Mobile; This Dish Is Bananas:

The Un-Network Is Now THE Network

And then there were three…

The wireless market got a touch smaller and far more interesting this morning. A U.S. federal judge ruled in favor of the $26 billion merger between Sprint Corp. (NYSE: S) and T-Mobile US Inc. (Nasdaq: TMUS).

The ruling shut down a multistate challenge to the deal’s approval by both the Federal Communications Commission and the Department of Justice. According to Judge Victor Marrero: “The resulting stalemate leaves the Court lacking sufficiently impartial and objective ground on which to rely in basing a sound forecast of the likely competitive effects of a merger.”

Marrero continued that the states failed to convince the court that a combined company would “pursue anticompetitive behavior.” Furthermore, the judge noted that, if left alone, Sprint could “cease to be a truly national [mobile network operator].”

New York Attorney General Letitia James is considering appealing the ruling. “From the start, this merger has been about massive corporate profits over all else, and despite the companies’ false claims, this deal will endanger wireless subscribers where it hurts most: their wallets,” James said.

The Takeaway:

Let’s start off with a great big “Well, duh!” for Attorney General James. Of course this deal is about massive corporate profits. All deals are.

Corporations exist to generate massive profits. That’s their job. That’s what they do. (They’re like the Conway Twitty of the business world — yes, that’s a country song reference, y’all.)

I won’t comment on the antitrust implications of the Sprint/T-Mobile deal … or whether it’s ultimately bad for customers or not. I’ll leave that to Banyan Hill expert Ted Bauman, who’s sure to comment on this merger sooner or later.

By the way: Feel free to let me know your thoughts on the Sprint/T-Mobile merger by dropping me a line at [email protected].

What I will say is that this deal is big trouble for moose and squirrel … er, rather, Verizon Communications Inc. (NYSE: VZ) and AT&T Inc. (NYSE: T). The pair have dominated the wireless world for years, gobbling up subscribers left and right.

Now, however, there’s a serious contender to deal with.

After AT&T failed to take over T-Mobile back in 2011, the latter used the $3 billion in breakup fees to launch a serious bid to dominate the wireless market. However, T-Mobile lacked in spectrum — i.e., the wireless airwaves that connect your devices.

Sprint has oodles and oodles of spectrum, including a broad swath of 2.5 GHz mid-band spectrum that’s critical for 5G wireless. Unfortunately for Sprint, it has no cash to take advantage of this spectrum.

That’s what the Sprint/T-Mobile merger is all about, Charlie Brown: spectrum. And now, T-Mobile has both key 5G spectrum and the cash to further its nationwide 5G rollout plans.

What’s more, the new company is truly a pure play on the wireless market. There’s no debt-burdened Time Warner content or streaming package like at AT&T, or failed AOL/Yahoo content like at Verizon.

Just pure, unadulterated and unfettered wireless.

So, while AT&T struggles to pay down the cost of buying content and Verizon rides the fence on what to do with its media division, the new T-Mobile will solely focus on rolling out 5G to the world.

That focus is truly great stuff for investors. I look forward to seeing how the combined company’s stock trades once the merger is complete. It’s certainly on Great Stuff’s future watch list.

In the meantime, there’s work to do to bring 5G to the masses.

I mean, you can have all the G’s you want, but without a ground network to transfer that signal from the tower to the internet at high speed … well, you’re SOL.

That means fiber optics, and rolling out such a network doesn’t happen overnight — unless you’re out there unspooling cable … you aren’t, are you?

So, let’s stay crafty and find some real 5G profits.

And boy, are there profits to be had! The great wireless migration could generate over $12 trillion in new industry wealth … from telecoms to consumer 5G devices and more.

Many Great Stuff readers know Ian King and his incredible eye for picking tipping-point tech trends. The 5G explosion is no different. Ian just spotted one company that’s at the forefront of the 5G transition.

If you click here now, he will show you just how huge the 5G trend is … and why this tiny stock is setting up to clutch that $12 trillion windfall.

The Good: Hasbro Ain’t Toyin’ Around

After nearly a year of dominance by plastic figurines and bobble heads bobbleheads, actual toys are back!

Hasbro Inc. (Nasdaq: HAS) reported that net income skyrocketed to $2.01 per share in the fourth quarter from just $0.07 per share last year. Adjusted earnings came in at $1.24 per share, blowing past the consensus estimate for $0.91 per share.

(Pssst … net revenue was a little light at $1.43 billion, versus Wall Street’s target of $1.44 billion … but no one’s talking about that.)

Driving Hasbro’s success were strong sales of partner brands such as Frozen 2, Star Wars, Spider-Man and the Avengers. The Walt Disney Co. (NYSE: DIS) toy sales — ahem, I mean “partner brand” revenue — spiked 24% to $1.22 billion for the year.

“We’re incredibly excited that ‘The Mandalorian’ season two will come to Disney+ this fall,” said Hasbro CEO Brian Goldner.

Umm … Mr. Goldner? Maybe you could get some freakin’ Baby Yoda merch on the shelves soon, please? Honestly, your revenue could’ve been millions higher already!

The Bad: M-m-m-my Corona

What do you get when you cross a Chinese pandemic with a struggling “premium” athletic clothing retailer?

You get a hot mess, that’s what you get. Under Armour Inc. (NYSE: UA) not only missed Wall Street’s fourth-quarter revenue target, it also lowered sales guidance for 2020. The company expects revenue to fall between $50 million and $60 million for the first quarter … and that’s just from lowered sales expectations.

Sure, Under Armour has about 600 stores in China, but about 60% of the company’s products are manufactured in China, Jordan, Vietnam and Malaysia. With the exception of Jordan, the rest of those countries are smack in the middle of coronavirus central. That means lowered productivity and potential supply disruptions as this epidemic grows.

And as for that “premium brand” thing: “We believe prior promotional activity has impacted the consumers’ willingness to pay full price for our brand to a higher degree than we originally anticipated,” said CEO Patrik Frisk.

So, part of Frisk’s excuse is that customers don’t want to pay full price for the company’s stuff? I think the market is telling you something, man.

For now, I’ll avoid Under Armour stock like I avoid paying full price for its clothes.

The Ugly: Dish Is a Mess

Did you think I forgot about Dish Network Corp. (Nasdaq: DISH)?

No, sir. Dish is crucial to the whole Sprint/T-Mobile merger. As part of the deal with the Department of Justice, Dish will buy Sprint’s prepaid wireless business — aka Boost Mobile.

Let’s make no bones about this: Dish is getting screwed. The company already struggles with falling subscriber numbers for its pay-TV business. Dish’s old-school satellite service is worse than cable, after all. It’s all the content you’ll never watch (but still pay high prices for) … all bundled up in a service that screws up in the rain.

The bright idea to fix this is for Dish to buy Boost Mobile — a 4G mobile service on Sprint’s old network in a 5G world. Why not just start rolling out Betamax tapes as well, Dish?

Not only does Dish get the short end of the stick on the wireless deal, it’ll also soon face serious competition from Starlink — Elon Musk’s new satellite-based internet service.

I know, you’re thinking: “Starlink isn’t a pay-TV service, why should Dish worry?”

The answer’s simple: video streaming. The only thing that prevents some customers from moving away from Dish is the fact that they can’t get shows any other way. With Starlink and a Roku Inc. (Nasdaq: ROKU) player, all that changes.

I have to think that the only way Dish survives in the new Starlink and 5G world is for someone to buy out the company. Although, what company has such poor judgement that it’d even consider buying Dish? (No AT&T, don’t even think about it!)

5G! 5G! 5G! All we ever hear about is 5G! What’s so great about 5G anyway?

I mean, sure, 5G has never had its picture on bubblegum cards … so you’ve got me there.

That said, today’s Chart of the Week details some of the key benefits that the average smartphone user will notice right away when switching to 5G:

Now, if that doesn’t mean a whole lot to you … let’s just say that 5G is stupidly faster than your current 4G wireless service. That real-world speed of 100 megabytes/second is faster than most people have from their landline-based internet provider.

In other words, if you aren’t a data hog like yours truly, you might even be able to ditch your internet landline, just like you ditched your phone landline years ago. (Please tell me you don’t still have a phone landline…)

When it comes to 5G, this is just the tip of the iceberg. We’re in a Big Data world now, and Big Data needs high-speed transfer rates. As you can see from the chart, 5G has all that covered and more.

Great Stuff: Marco?

It’s that time again!

That’s right, it’s time to feed the Great Stuff beast!

This week, we’re focusing on the Sprint/T-Mobile merger — surprise! Be sure to write in to [email protected] and let us know your thoughts!

Here are some of this week’s topics:

Do you think the Sprint/T-Mobile merger will have a negative or positive impact on the wireless market?

Do you have any antitrust concerns?

Are you itching to invest in the combined company?

Which wireless carrier do you believe is the better investment: AT&T, Verizon or Sprint/T-Mobile?

Now, you know the drill. You have about two days to drop me a line at [email protected] to make this week’s edition of Reader Feedback.

In the meantime, don’t forget to check out Great Stuff on social media. If you can’t get enough meme-y trade war goodness, follow Great Stuff on Facebook and Twitter.

Until next time, good trading!

Regards,

Joseph Hargett

Great Stuff Managing Editor, Banyan Hill Publishing

0 notes

goldira01 · 5 years ago

Link