#I have worms in my brain and I’m making that everybody else’s problem | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

its3oe · 2 years

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Extremely lengthy post ahead. Proceed with caution. It’s just another one of me talking about why I’ve grown tired with social media and am still working very hard to sever its cord wrapped around my neck. And why you could too. If you wanted. This is going to be the last one though I promise

Obviously I like, don't have a problem with people who do create and consume and all of those other potential modes of interaction with Art and Creation in this way I am about to describe so as to word why I personally find myself unable to subscribe to caring about it. But I figure it's wise enough to give my "I completely understand and respect this and think that's great as long as you're having fun" disclaimer as people on-line are prone to touchiness and upset when faced with this discussion, for whatever number of reasons, that I do not want to draw to myself unnecessarily. But I also find it very relieving and like I can find a little bit of a break from my neuroticisms and extremely slow journey from trying to un-train myself from an obsession with being social media optimized and well-liked and whatever other shit, when, people express similarly their thoughts on creation and consumption and the shrink-wrapping of that process around a very specific mold on the Internet. These sentences are way too fucking long here but I cannot find it in me to rephrase more concisely. Sorry. But. ANYWAYS:

It's quite disheartening to me, often, seeing the internet continuously trend towards like. Being a 10,000 follower fandom/OC artist being the ultimate end-goal. And people within these shrink-molded circles and communities Only consuming this kind of art and that being what Art is immediately to them. Like. I don't know there's something a little sad about it to me. I have found myself over the years (Extremely fucked up in the head guy talking here. Not that anybody's entitled to know how I am but like, there are also plenty of other people with similar -oses and -isms so I'm not worried about vaguely mentioning this to blame Myself a bit more for my situation and not Everyone on the internet because that'd be a stupid thing to say) feeling extremely pressured to conform to the standard of like, cutesy clean art or the Voltron & She-Ra Remake style or (and once more no offense intended to those who enjoy these things) Blorbo Garfield Worm on a String Rotating Fanartist or some combination or mutation thereof those and more. And for quite some time I did try my hardest to squeeze in there somehow before completely breaking down and realizing it was like. Melting my brain and that it's not actually what I wanted to do, it was just what I felt like everybody else expected of me and wanted to see of me. So that's what I did for that huge chunk of my life where I was really just initially learning how to draw and it got a bunch of insane habits jammed directly into my grey matter.

And so, after this realization happened 3 or so years ago I have since been trying to shed these ideas and, more recently, within the past year or so, I've started to see more people crop up with ideas of "Wow! This really sucks dick! I don't want to do this anymore either! I do not want to be a Content Creator or Consumed through this venue of Posts that mean little to nothing in the grand scheme of things, and especially to me personally!" and it's given me a little bit more of a drive to work harder at trying to make the weirder shit I actually want to instead of letting my insane insecurities and other worries get to me. That I am now moving towards circles where I actually see people who think similarly to me. I still have an extremely long way to go but. Obviously some people are content with doing that sort of thing forever and the more power to them, but, other people feeding into that as The Standard has, evidently, sort of fucked me and a number of other people up. My point here is not that everybody has to want to make big personal projects to be Le Real artists because that's divisive for no good reason, but that I truly do want to make comics or films or games (Sorry) or otherwise stories in weird ways that may be hard to understand or consume and take more...Effort. To look at and really absorb. Because that is really always what I have wanted to do with myself and is what sits with me at my core about Creation.

And it's funny, because, like, another huge portion of what's held me back from that is that portions of the internet also insist that you have to have a gorillion followers and 40+ engagement crystals and Patreon money enough to pay rent twice over to have made anything worthwhile. And that's gotten ingrained into me. Like. Fuck when I was a wee 13 years old I was one of those reblogs>likes people before I realized that is also only conducive to people ignoring you even more for devaluing clicking one Acknowledgement button and not the other and also that it doesn't matter anyways. I would still be happier with myself if I were actually able to see one of my tangled up mushy projects spat up into existence and had only 50 followers and one of them decided to check it out and really make an attempt to engage with it over 5000 that only want stuff that looks cute on their blog. I'd be more broke, sure, (Thank you also for 1700 followers and all of my commissioners. I love U.) but. And this really is like, the broke tortured artist corny ultimate thing to say, I would feel more fulfilled as a person. That I did something I wanted to and that That effort was viewed with intent by another.

This is getting really long now So I will leave off with: I have weird shit to make that has things to say and requires a deeper level of engagement than Social Media provides and I am still, really, working incredibly hard to get to a point where I will be able to actually carry it all out. Some of this, at present, is immutable due to circumstances in my life out of my control. But the parts that I actually can change I am choosing to grab with gusto and wring all of the blood out so I can put, um, more blood in. But blood with a sense of purpose and within "blood sweat and tears" as opposed to meaningless hemorrhaging of blood to mean the reasons I create in the first place that have just left me hollow and unsatisfied. And well. If you want to make weird things too and are also sick of social media biting and snapping at anything it can get its teeth in and shaking the life out of it. I less than three you thiiiiiis much. Thumbs up. I'll try to avoid making more posts like this in the future because it really is quite repetitive and I'm aware but I think I'd at least like to have this one up as a summary of why I am so inactive for the past while and what I'm up to. It's the personal demons. And the internet demons. Like from DOOM. My favorite is the Cacodemon.

#long post #not sure if that's repetitive with the readmore but i figure it is a good thing to let filters catch regardless

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potatoqueensays · 3 years

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Okay okay so I may have wrote an Irondad drabble. It's kinda like a character study or something, idk I just came up with it and was like yeah let's do this. I hope you enjoy!!

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My World Isn't Perfect Without You In It

3,004 words

It started as a simple feeling.

Tony was in his lab with Peter on one of their lab days, as they always were on Fridays. He would work with the kid after Happy picked him up and they would work on whatever their genius hearts desired.

Tony didn't really find himself looking at Peter with pride until Pepper pointed it out to him, she would comment on how he seemed like a Dad all of a sudden with the kid hanging around more.

He would always deny it with that Stark charm of his of course, deflecting was one of his main traits when it came to his feelings.

"Pep, motherhood may look nice on you, but fatherhood isn't kind for me you know." Flattery was said to get you places, but Pepper was known for never taking his BS.

"Tony, I can tell the way you look at him, you love him, whether you want to face it or not." She grinned at him, she was always right, even if he didn't like to admit it sometimes.

He thought back to her words frequently, picking up on how his heart swelled with pride and warmth when Peter looked at him for approval, or whenever he would get a question right, or even when Tony himself was having a bit of trouble with an equation, and he was Tony Stark, he could do anything!

The kid wormed his way into Tony's cold heart, thawed down his icy walls with a flamethrower and melted his heart into a puddle of goo.

The billionaire could never understand how he became so fond of the kid so quickly, but he always knew the reasons he liked the kid. He was so selfless, kind, and brave. A true hero at heart and much better than Tony even thought he would be, he was everything Tony wasn't and more.

He wasn't even jealous at the kid when he would steal the light, his own best friend becoming fond of the kid and mentioning how he was practically his kid.

"Platypus, he's not a Stark, in any way shape or form."

"He may not be blood related to you Tones, but he's your son in everything else, he has your brains even, maybe even smarter than you!" Rhodey teased.

"I'm wounded, Honey-Bear." He placed a hand over his heart in mock hurt.

"Oh hush, you know it better than anyone else."

And if he did, he would never say it up front.

He was proud of the kid even in his worst moments. He would try to console the kid when he came to him for help when close to a panic attack (which broke the hero's heart, the poor kid didn't deserve any of the unfair treatment the world had, it was too cruel for such a pure hearted kid like Peter.) or when he had a nightmare when staying over at the tower.

Tony wasn't always the most physically affectionate, he would give pats on the shoulder or back, arms around shoulders to keep the person close, and side hugs, even if he didn't do full ones.

When it came to Peter however, he slowly broke out of his shell of that. He kept a hand gently over the back of the boy's neck, sometimes playing with the curls that rested there, occasionally giving a reassuring squeeze when Peter seemed a bit nervous or highstrung. It always got rid of a little of his own stress when the boy would lean into his touch, side hugs and pats on the shoulder were gladly accepted.

Even the occasional hand holding when the kid was kept in the med-bay after a stressful mission or patrol, he would keep his hand over the boy's pulse point to reassure himself that the kid was alive and well. He would keep one hand over the kid's wrist while he worked on his suit, improving how he could make sure the current problems never happened again, whether it be even a scratch or a stab wound, he wouldn't let Peter get hurt on his watch.

He would always keep an eye on the kid, letting Peter know that he could call whenever he felt he needed something, maybe even just to chat, the billionaire found himself even endeared to the chatter that came from the spider-kid, it was a nice comforting constant to fill the silence in his life, even if he worked in his suits with FRIDAY blasting AC/DC, he seemed to have a better preference for the chatty kid. He would invest himself in listening to what happened in his day, to what him and Ted did over the week, and even hearing about how Aunt May burned water when trying to boil pasta.

He was fond of the kid, the feeling that was so simple at the start but steadily increasing over time and getting fiercer and stronger with each visit to the med-bay or after every movie night that eventually had the boy cuddled up to him. It grew into a surge of protectiveness, a very parental feeling and yearning to make his the kid happy.

So yeah, he was fond.

He was in too deep, as he wanted the kid by his side for as long as he could have him in fact, he begun to realize that yeah, he liked the kid and was fond of his company, but even more so.

He loved the kid.

He loved Peter.

Tony had a crisis when he was having a revelation about his feelings towards the younger hero.

He felt parental, even if he kept denying the fact when everybody knew how he felt before himself. Even if he tried to hide his grin whenever the kid's smile lit up a room, even if he kept rolling his eyes affectionately and ruffled the kid's curls when they bantered.

So yeah, he loved him.

Loving was dangerous however, loving got you in difficult situations where you don't think and sometimes your actions get out of hand with how much you care.

He cared about Peter with his iron heart, he cared about the boy so loudly in fact it would almost creep those three words up into his throat when he loved too fiercely with kid.

That's how he found himself in a very dangerous situation.

Peter was hurt, badly.

And it was his fault because he loved him, he was someone he got too close to and now it was his fault.

He stayed too close even when he should have remained at arms length, but the kid had to get close.

The bullet was supposed to be for Tony, not Peter, but the kid saw it coming from a mile away and pushed the iron clad man away from the aim of fire and taking the punishment with all the confidence of a self sacrificing idiot.

Peter was laid up in the med-bay as Cho and her helpers ran around to try and nurse the kid, while Tony was trapped in his own mind with how much he let Peter get too close, how he didn't notice that the kid obviously loved him too, so much in fact that he took a bullet for him, when Tony specifically told him not to if something like that happened.

He couldn't find it in his heart to be angry at the kid, no matter how much he wanted to be, he wanted to scream and shout and punch the walls, blame the universe for giving him someone so precious and kind that he would ruin completely, to rip apart a kid's life. It was his fault that the kid was by his side now, wanting to be an avenger because he took him to Germany just to win a fight against his own team, his own family. Or what he thought was.

He was pushed out of his thoughts by a hand on his shoulder, Rhodey's comforting voice making it's way to the man in armor, ridding him of the terrible thoughts and guilt that went through him.

"He'll be okay Tones, he's tough, he can handle it, he always does." Rhodey reasoned, trying to take Tony down from his tower of guilt.

"But he shouldn't have to."

"He did what he did because he cares, I know you would do it in a heartbeat if he was the one about to be shot."

"Because that's how it should be, I'm the adult, and he's the kid. He's just a child, Rhodey, a child." The older hero sighed, his face visible as his helmet was open, anyone could easily see his terror and distress. He tried to tear his eyes away from the frittering med staff, but he could only think of Peter. His Peter. His self sacrificing kid that he loved too much, and now it had gotten him hurt, the panic gripping his chest like a vice and not letting go as he feared what worse could have happened to his kid.

"Listen, he'll be okay, I know it." There was no room for argument with his tone, even if Tony wanted to, he needed to be at Peter's bedside, he was always there no matter what, even if he was mad or trying not to think about his guilt, the boy's presence always seemed to calm him.

The hero sighed softly, nodding even though panic rested comfortably in his chest.

He had cleaned himself up after the fight, after seeing Peter taken away from his side as he bled out and was in pain, even under the mask for the spider-suit, Tony could tell by the way the white eyes of the mask were pinched. It haunted him how he thought of Peter's bambi eyes shining with unshed tears and pain under that mask, those bright doe eyes filled with innocence and brilliance.

He remained stationary by the kid's bedside as he was finally left alone in his room, his accelerated healing luckily used in this moment. Helen had said the bullet hadn't hit any major arteries or organs, so that was a plus, but it still was agonizing to think of the boy in any sort of pain, or to even think of Peter leaving his side. If that happened, he didn't know what he would do. If he didn't have Pepper he would certainly lose it.

He just loved the kid too much to let him suffer.

He had his Stark-Pad resting in his lap as he held onto Peter's wrist, the feeling of the pulse underneath his fingers much more reassuring than the beep of the heart monitor. He kept his eyes focusing back between the notes he had down for what he could improve on Peter's suit and on the kid himself, eyeing his chest to check his breathing and checking the face of the boy in case he was going to wake up anytime soon.

He looked at the features of the boy, taking in the curls swept over his forehead, they were always gelled back no matter how much Tony joked about it. He never had a problem with it, but it was always pleasing to know how the boy liked a hand combing through his curls, whether it be his aunt to Tony himself. His face always bright with a smile that reached to his chocolate doe eyes, shining with talent and excitement for everything and anything. From Star Wars to how the Iron Man suit worked, he was always so smart and inquisitive. The boy was a ray of sunshine in Tony's bleak life. Yes he had Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, he loved them all to bits and they made his life so much better, but loving Peter was different. He was his son in everything but blood, and that didn't even matter. He was a bright light that warmed up even the coldest of hearts, thawing right through to make anyone wrapped around his little finger.

Tony loved him.

He realized he was looking too much at the boy and swiftly changed to reading the schematics of the spider-suit, although he didn't read far when he heard a small sigh coming from in front of him. He looked up to see those bright and beautiful doe eyes looking up at him with that same amount of adoration that made Tony's heart want to burst, he didn't deserve the kid in the slightest, but here he was with him.

"Good afternoon, bambi." He said softly, aware of how Peter was sensitive his surroundings after waking up in the med-bay, the lights always at a dimmer power than normal to accustom to the spider-boy.

"Hi Mstr' Strk'." The boy slurred, still tired from just waking up and having pain reducing drugs in his system. The man carefully let go of the boy's wrist to hit the button that alerted Helen that her patient was awake, he almost missed the small whine that came from the younger hero at the loss of contact, it cut right through his heart.

"I'm here kiddo, don't worry." He held onto the boy's wrist again, fingers resting over the pulse point with quick muscle memory at this point.

"M' srry.." The boy mumbled, relaxing slightly as he registered the touch again, wide bambi eyes drooping sightly in relief.

"What are you sorry for, kiddo?" The man wondered. Peter always apologized, whether it be for something as small as dropping a pencil or bumping into a dog. He had such good manners.

"Ar' you mad a' me?" The boy's speech improving only a little as his enhanced metabolism burned through the painkillers.

Ah, so that explains it, he was worried the billionaire was mad at him. He gently rubbed a circle into the boy's wrist with his hand, comforting the kid into relaxing and not stressing when he needed to heal and get rest.

The man softly sighed and put the Stark-Pad away on the side table, scooting a little closer to the cot as he could look the kid better in the eye.

"No bud, I'm not mad, anymore. But you worried me a lot, I have a heart condition you know." He moved his free hand to go over the boy's front curls that hung in front of his eyes, getting to see those baby browns even better as the kid leaned into the soft touch.

"I knda' had to, you'd do it too.." The kid had a point, as it was similar to Rhodey's, even Pepper would say something like that, and she was always right, so that had to mean that Rhodey and Peter were too.

"That's different Pete. You're a kid and I'm an adult, we seniors kinda have to take the bullet. Figuratively and literally." He chided gently.

The boy let out a small huff of frustrated air, which was absolutely adorable as his nose scrunched up and he eyed Tony with what was presumably a glare that equalled the look of a puppy.

"But we gotta prtect' each other, otherwise you'd get hurt much worse." He brought up matter of factly.

"Well, maybe that's a risk I gotta take for spider-babies like you." Tony provided ruefully.

"Nt' a baby."

Well you're my spider-baby. He almost wanted to say.

Luckily he was saved by Helen Cho coming in to do a small checkup on Peter, looking over his vitals and smiling softly at her patient.

"Hello Peter, how are you feeling? Any pain?" She eyed over her clipboard presumably to check over his vitals and wounds again, being very perceptive to how Peter responded.

"M' fine, jus' a little sore." At that, Helen nodded and worked on administering a little medicine into his system, making the boy sigh gratefully at that. Both Cho and Tony knew when Peter said he felt a little pain it meant more than he played it as.

"I'll be back in a couple more hours, get some rest okay?"

Peter nodded at that and watched as she left the room, now alone with his father figure mentor once again. He looked over at Tony with a dopey smile, looking very tired now, he was bound to fall asleep. He sightly tugged on the man's arm, they both know that was to invite the man to cuddle, which they never brought up out loud, but they both knew the other enjoyed it greatly. It helped assure Tony that Peter was safe and there, while Peter got comfort and protection.

The man sighted good-naturedly as he stood up to get beside Peter.

"Alright alright, scoot over, this isn't gonna be nice on my back later." He joked. Although he said that, he would gladly take a little pain if it meant having Peter safe in his arms.

The boy obeyed and scooted over quickly, allowing Tony to climb in and get comfy, then let out a small "oof" as the kid rested his head on his shoulder and clung like a koala.

The man chuckled, a hand coming up to cradle the boy's head and play with his curls, knowing that helped Peter sleep much faster.

"Okay cuddle-bug, you heard her. It's nap time."

"Nt' a bug." Peter mumbled, blissfully unaware how Tony's heart practically melted with how easy Peter fit in his arms. He was so small. They were like two pieces of a puzzle, father and son, mentor and mentee. They belonged together and they wouldn't have it any other way as they needed the other.

"Right, arachnid." Tony corrected himself, hiding his grin in the kid's hair as Peter let out a pleased hum, slowly drifting off to sleep.

"Night." Peter mumbled, slowly lulled to sleep by the soft rumbling of the older hero's chest as he responded in kind.

"Goodnight bambino." He mumbled, pressing a small kiss to the boy's hair as they soon both drifted off to sleep.

Yeah, Tony loved him, and he needed him in his life like Peter needed him.

Thank you to @polaroid15 for reading this before hand and your lovely comments!! 🥺♥️

#irondad #irondad and spiderson #irondad fanfiction #mine #honestly this is my first ever attempt at writing fanfiction #i normally write for classes or drabbles of my own characters #but i have never done other characters #also im not that good with dialogue but I tried #i hope you enjoy 🥺♥️#tony stark #peter parker #pepperpotts #but only like quickly #james rhodes #quickly as well

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gffa · 4 years

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I’M GONNA HAVE TO BREAK THIS UP BECAUSE IT’S KIND OF A LOT. So, @alabasterswriting and I were having a fantastic conversation about Anakin and how much he intellectually-versus-emotionally knows that he can leave the Jedi Order at any time, that he’s not a slave to them and it was already getting really long, so I’m going to put this in a new post because this is going to be even longer, but IT’S A SUBJECT NEAR AND DEAR TO MY HEART BECAUSE I HAVE MANY FEELINGS ABOUT ANAKIN SKYWALKER. For context, there are some other posts that’ll be referenced so this is only, like, the length of two monster posts instead of five. ^_~ - The original ask about whether or not Anakin was a slave to the Jedi, which sets up how the Jedi make it extremely clear that it’s fine to leave - A follow-up ask from alabasterswriting + their very thoughtful, love response, which this post is largely a response to! Now that I’ve gotten some sleep, I think I can be more coherent on why I think there’s a lot of really good stuff to explore with Anakin’s emotional misunderstanding (versus intellectually knowing that he can leave) and why I do think it’s an important element, but not necessarily at the core of why Anakin stayed. Why does Anakin stay as a Jedi? I think the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic covers this really well--he plans to leave, he’s not upset about it, he’s excited and has nothing but respect for the Jedi Order, he even says that he may come back. Anakin knows that he has options, he believes that he’s capable of taking off into the wider galaxy, he acknowledges that part of the reason he may have joined was, despite Qui-Gon’s warnings, all he saw was a magic man and a way out of slavery, what was he going to do, say no? The overarching plot of the comic is: Obi-Wan wants him to be absolutely sure of this, so he asks Anakin for one last mission together, but makes it clear that he’ll accept whatever choice Anakin makes in the end. Obi-Wan’s point is, when they call for reinforcements at the end to deal with Carnelion IV’s civil war, they get those reinforcements, becasue they did this as Jedi. That the Jedi are part of the Republic and thus they have the backing of the Republic. (This is, interestingly enough, also a major theme in Master & Apprentice, that the day is saved precisely because Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon were part of the Republic and had the backing of the Republic.) Anakin realizes that he can accomplish more as a Jedi than he can setting off on his own, so he happily agrees to stay. This fits with how Anakin genuinely seems to like being a Jedi. The problems he expresses with it, is that he wants more than what they can do, he wants to be able to tell people want to do, to make them do the right thing. He expresses this to Padme in Attack of the Clones, he follows it up with that conversation with Tarkin during The Citadel arc, where they both feel the Jedi Code does not allow Jedi to go “far enough” to win the war. Further, he teaches on the beliefs of the Jedi. After the brain invader worms, Anakin teaches Ahsoka about how to balance letting go of their attachments versus caring about other people and wanting to save them, how the two work together. While she’s on Onderon and having confusing feelings for Lux, he teaches her again about how duty must come before her feelings, he seems to agree with this, because he’s not shy about subverting the Jedi teachings when he wants to. And very clearly, he teaches the same things to Rex in the Bad Batch arc:

That’s exactly what the Jedi teach (and is ironic because this is just a few months before Revenge of the Sith and I think it’s actually a really perfect illustration of exactly what was at the heart of Anakin, that he genuinely believes in the Jedi teachings, until they apply to him and his fears eat him up and he makes himself the exception) and Anakin also seems to genuinely believe it. In Revenge of the Sith, Anakin doesn’t express any desire to not be a Jedi until after he’s helped kill Mace and the younglings and then, frankly, he’s repeating Palpatine’s words, not his own, he doesn’t really believe what he’s saying, imo. When he talks to Padme about feeling lost, it isn’t expressed in terms of him feeling trapped, but instead that he feels he isn’t the Jedi he should be, that he wants more. Anakin never seems to feel trapped or obligated--there’s almost nothing in the movies or TV show that actually lean towards the idea that Anakin felt any pressure of being the Chosen One. He doesn’t seem to believe it himself--he tells the Father that it’s a myth. And the other Jedi (aside from Qui-Gon) never talk about it in front of him, it’s almost never even mentioned, I think it comes up all of two or three times in the movies? And each time there are people expressing doubt about it being true and it’s never discussed at Anakin’s face. Even in TCW, aside from the Mortis arc, it never really seems to come up pretty much at all. Does he feel an obligation to Shmi’s memory to stay as a Jedi? Possibly! It would certainly be an easy conclusion to come to! He never expresses it directly anywhere that I can recall, though. At the end of The Wrong Jedi, when Ahsoka says she’s going to leave, he says, “I understand. More than you realize, I understand wanting to walk away from the Order.“ which is the most he ever expresses about actually wanting to leave in any canon that I’ve seen. We’re given no other context for this--is it because he’s angry at the Jedi, is it that he feels they’re not doing enough and he could do more as a free agent, is it that he wants to leave to be with Padme, is it that he doesn’t like being a Jedi, is it that he feels a wanderlust for the stars? We’re given no further context in that scene, so we have to put it together with the other things we have. That Anakin, when he was younger, said he felt a calling to the starts, that in ROTS he wants more, that in the conversations with Padme and Tarkin, he feels the Jedi aren’t going far enough and someone should make people do things. Put together with the end of the Obi-Wan & Anakin comic, where he stays because he feels he can do more with the Jedi than without them, I think that’s at the heart of why Anakin stays. He wants more more more more. This is further evidenced by what George Lucas says about how the dark side works, which is something I think Anakin is clearly sliding into at this point: “What happens when you go to the dark side is it goes out of balance and you get really selfish and you forget about everybody … because when you get selfish you get stuff, or you want stuff, and when you want stuff and you get stuff then you are afraid somebody is going to take it away from you, whether it’s a person or a thing or a particular pleasure or experience.” --George Lucas That’s what I see it as, because the story of Anakin Skywalker is one that is sliding towards the dark side, and Anakin’s problem is that he wants more and more and more. He wants to be a Jedi, he wants to be married to Padme, he wants to be able to murder people to win the war, he wants to be made a Master (despite having just taken a bribe from Palpatine and clearly isn’t ready for it yet in emotional mastery), he wants all these people, things, and experiences. He wants more. The point @alabasterswriting makes here: “To me, (and it’s totally an opinion, and I’m open to disagreement), it’s always seemed like Anakin was on his way to being able to being able to handle himself emotionally before his perceptions of his sense of self were messed with. And I think (as I’m sure many do) a large part of that was Palpatine feeding his ego/preying on his fears and insecurities. Like we see in the bar with Palpatine that he uses a whole bunch of trigger words meant to make Anakin equate the Jedi to his time as a slave.“ is a really good one, because I absolutely agree that Palpatine completely muddied the waters on this, that Anakin was on his way to a much healthier understanding of himself and ability to understand himself, but then Palpatine started dripping poison into his hear and telling Anakin the things he wanted to hear, rather than the truth that he needed to hear. So, eventually, Vader rationalizes what he’s doing by looping back around to what Palpatine told him, which George Lucas makes clear in his directions to Hayden Christensen (that he’s rationalizing and justifying the things he’s doing, that he doesn’t actually believe them, that is), that that’s at the heart of how Anakin handles things. He does feel powerless to help people--despite that he’s not and there are plenty of moments where he knows otherwise, like in the Age of Republic comic, when he helps the people of Kudo out of the sticky situation they’re in, they have a chance to make their own choice about whether they want to join the Separatists or the Republic, Obi-Wan specifically points out that it was him who helped them:

There are actually a ton of instances in The Clone Wars of this as well, like he helps the rebels on Onderon, he helps save Naboo from the Blue Shadow Virus, he helps free the people of Mon Calamari, he helps free the people of Kiros, etc., but it was easier to grab the above cap as an example (even if I do absolutely agree that Anakin Skywalker is a bucket with a whole in the bottom--it doesn’t matter that he helps people almost every day, it’s never enough, he still wants more, he still feels powerless to help as many people as he wants, and he does feel like he’s often taking things apart, rather than fixing things, as he tells Padme in the Malevolence arc) as well as it’s a good segue into his relationship with Obi-Wan in the next part. Ultimately, I think it comes back to the dark side--it lies, it twists things, it tells Anakin that he wants more and more and more, that nothing else around him is ever enough. He’s not helping enough people, he’s not doing enough stuff, he’s not getting enough recognition, he’s not getting enough personal loyalty over loyalty to things that are bigger than him. But he can’t face that truth about himself, that the dark side has twisted him, so instead the dark side must be right, Palpatine must be right. The dark side always wins, Obi-Wan, Vader says in the Star Wars comic, and so everything else must be shuffled around to fit that. Everything else must be rationalized to fit the way he feels, so he leans into whatever justification he can find, despite that he actually really wanted to be a Jedi and believed in their teachings. (Part 2 in a reblog coming soon because I can only do one monster post at a time. ^_~)

#anakin skywalker #jedi order #meta #long post

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halorocks1214 · 4 years

Text

ბარტერი (a Thunderbirds fic)

Chapter 1: გატაცებული

AO3 Link

Word Count: 3892

Summary: And here they thought getting their father back was the least of their worries.

i make no promises for this fic. the upload schedule will be totally willy nilly because i havent really been feeling the whole writing thing and because of my other fics and projects and irl shit. i hate to admit it but im on the fence on whether or not this will actually be completed, BUT, i still am surprisingly proud of this so im posting it anyway. hope yall enjoy!

“Okay, what’s the dealio?”

Gordon easily skipped around his younger brother with a slightly faux-naive voice. They were currently out in the field, damn tsunamis not being picked up by the D.A.R.T. soon enough, and while Gordon knew better than to talk about personal things during a rescue, it was the first time in a while he even had the chance to talk to Alan.

Who was currently more forlorn than Gordon was aware he could be if the way he watched his toes kick whatever small rock they strutted past was any indication. It took a moment for Alan to register his older brother’s question, but when he did, he blinked a few times before looking at Gordon with a raised eyebrow, “What?”

Gordon was going to play this slyly. Treat it as banter, not an interrogation. Gordon idly leaned over and picked up a stick. He started to twirl it, never meeting Alan’s gaze directly, “I don’t know, you seem off. Just wanted to see if it was anything I could help with.”

Alan went back to kicking the pebbles, shrugging his shoulders in a way that said ‘this was a big deal but I don’t want you to know that’, “Oh, sorry, just tired. It’s not my fault I was having a wonderful nap in the closet only for John to make me tumble out of it due to the alarms. The fact that we’ve been out here for God knows how many hours doesn’t help.”

Gordon’s chuckles at that statement were slightly fake. Alan was hiding something, and if Gordon had to imitate Scott, well, then it was only Alan’s fault, “Yeah-huh. Sounds good.” He focused on the stick, pretending it was a wand and waving it around as such, “Decided on a college yet?”

Alan still didn’t look up, and Gordon could hear the noises of rocks getting kicked and traveling a foot or two. Alan answered him monotonously, “Uh, not really. I’ve narrowed it down to three. I haven’t brought them up with anyone other than Grandma though since the last thing I want to do is create a World War between our older brothers about which one is better.”

Gordon snorted but then got serious again. Dammit, Gordon, you are not letting him worm his way out of this. Again, “If I promise Scout’s Honor will you tell me them?” He cheekily grinned at Alan, which got a small smile out of the younger brother. Nice, getting closer. Now Gordon was doing that rubber pencil trick with the stick, way more immersed with the visual illusion than he probably should be, “Hmm, is it girl trouble?”

Alan rolled his eyes, but Gordon could tell he was getting annoyed, which meant the older brother was getting close. Alan kept his facade up, crunching a stick underneath his feet as he started walking just a little faster, “If you mean ‘Kayo chased me for accidentally spilling paint on Shadow’s nose’ then yes, I’m having lots of girl trouble.”

Gordon winced wholeheartedly and sympathetically. He remembered when he accidentally tripped and spilled water all over the front of her one night. He wasn’t aware she was a fan of throwing them into the pool just as much as he was until that night. It was in annoyance, but still, Gordon considered it a similar hobby between them regardless, “Yeesh, sorry for bringing up traumatizing memories bro.” Squinting at the stick he was playing with, he put it over his lips like a faux-mustache, lightbulb dinging in his brain with joyful glee, “Boy trouble?”

Alan groaned at started walking way faster than Gordon. Once he was about three feet away from Gordon, he shouted while still facing forward so Gordon could hear him, “Oh my god, let it go, Gordon!”

Bingo, Gordon thought he hit the jackpot. Throwing the stick away and keeping his distance from Alan, his grin went ear to ear with excitement at what he thought was figuring it out, “Oh man, okay, wait, hang on, is it that Bear kid? The one Scott rescued for the umpteenth time last week? Or, wait, didn’t Conrad visit you up at ‘Five two weeks ago during your rotation?” Giggling, Gordon rubbed his hands together mischievously, “Allie, how dare you. Romantic or not, it’s my job to help you out with these things--”

Suddenly and abruptly, and shutting Gordon up, Alan turned around and glared at Gordon while his fists were haphazardly clenched at his hips, “Fine, Mr. Nosey, you wanna know? It’s about Dad, okay?!”

Well, there went any ability to joke in this situation. Gordon lost his smile completely and stared mindlessly at his younger brother, who was breathing heavily and still glaring, but Gordon could tell there was a hint of anxiety behind his eyes.

Dad had been back for about two-and-a-half months now, and the Tracy family seemed to be settling into a new routine with him. Everyone was happy Jeff was back in one piece, none more so than Jeff than himself. They quickly figured out how to slowly integrate him back, starting with daily chores, reaching him having permission to help out with IR, and now they were getting ready to reintroduce him back into Tracy Industries.

The anxiety in Alan’s features was suddenly all Gordon could see in them, followed by Alan shaking his head and turning back around, “Shit-- forget I said anything, that’s not why--”

Before he could even think, Gordon shot his arm out to grab Alan by the wrist, his amber eyes wide with careful thought. He needed to think these words through. The idea that Alan was nervous regarding talking about his own dad was... “Allie… I know you didn’t have as much… time with him, but he’s your father too. You don’t have to hide any opinion about him for me, for us.”

Alan still wasn’t looking at Gordon, but the older brother definitely saw the tiny and hidden flinch the younger brother made at your father too. Gordon barely held back the sharp inhale he wanted to make. Okay, that was an entire suitcase, one he, unfortunately, couldn’t unpack right now (as much as he loathed to admit it that was a Scooter problem), so he focused the first problem he figured out, “Allie, are you upset Dad is back or?...”

That got Alan to turn around, “No! Jesus, Gordon, of course, I’m happy he’s back. The only reason I graduated right before we left was that Scott and John both told me to go do something while we waited because “the way you’re bouncing on your toes is going to burn a hole in the ground and Grandma won’t like that,” remember? I’m ecstatic he’s alive and back home.”

Letting Alan gently go, Gordon took a deep breath to reorganize his thoughts, “Okay, then what about Dad has got you so worked up?”

Alan was suddenly much younger than the fresh, getting-ready-to-go-to-college, young man Gordon saw this morning, “You remember that argument between Scotty and Dad, right? The one about five weeks ago that we shouldn’t have listened in on but did anyway?”

Gordon flinched, not wanting to remember that argument.

The two have made up since then, but it was a shock to just about everybody on the island, including John and Virgil, who the blondes nervously told the morning after so they could get some kind of reassurance the world wasn’t ending. In the Tracys’ quest to have their Fairytale Happily Ever After, it never occurred to them that their father might not like how they were running things.

Scott made a decision that didn’t sit well with the older man, and he let his son know that in tactless, Jeff Tracy fashion. Scott’s decision wasn’t the best per se, certainly not the worst, but he could’ve waited for some better options, but Jeff couldn’t just say that outright, that he was concerned about his son taking risks like that. He had to immediately jump to the idea that Scott’s leadership might be lacking suddenly.

It also didn’t help that Scott couldn’t just fucking say that, while he was sorry for being slightly rash, he didn’t like being undermined after years of successful leadership. He went straight for the fact that Jeff had been gone for the past eight years. Scott didn’t blame the man for it, God no, but the insinuation that Jeff wasn’t any better than Scott because of it stung everyone in the room. Because being reminded of the fact that Dad was technically a dead man for a big portion of all of their lives wasn’t bad enough.

Gordon forgot that Scott could be too much like Jeff for his own fucking good, as well as the fact that Scott did get it from Jeff Tracy of all people.

Adult men Gordon’s ass, two old and stubborn as hell mules more like it.

They were both stuck on the fact that now there might have to be challenges of authority, and frankly, now that the oldest outside of Grandma put that idea on the table, it bothered everyone else barely more than those two combined.

Jeff apologized for how he acted after Grandma ripped him a new one, and Scott apologized for jumping the gun a little bit too (after Grandma yelled at him as well), but there was no promising no second fight, least of all one like that.

It was a little like being a kid and watching Mommy and Daddy fight for the first time.

Long story short: it sucked ass.

Alan took a shuddery breath and brought Gordon down from that memory. Alan then proceeded to wrap his arms around himself, rubbing up and down in a weak attempt to ground himself, “I just… what if he had all these ideas about me while he was up there, and what if I’m completely different from those ideas and it disappoints him?”

Oh, sweet Jiminy Cricket.

What the hell was Gordon to say to that? Jeff was a loving a supportive father, more so than others. Gordon remembered all of his swim meets and such for a good reason, so his first response to that statement was easily of course he would be proud of you!

But there was an ever so tiny thing that grabbed Gordon’s tongue from saying that outright. It was honestly minor, so he wasn’t sure why it kept hitting him like a fucking truck.

Eight. Years.

Jeff Tracy was a remarkable man, and even more remarkable father, but nobody spent eight years in isolation, let alone spent it thousands of miles up in space, without it having some kind of consequence. Jeff would never outright disown his sons for anything as long as it wasn’t illegal or got themselves or others hurt, but he was human, and he had preferences just like the rest of them had.

So, disappointed? Hell no. But potentially shocked and uninterested? Less supportive than other endeavors? Gordon loved his father, but he had to admit that he was at a loss. There weren’t Dead Men for Dummies books anywhere, and it sucked to say it, but Jeff was different. They were different, and the only way they would know how this Jeff reacted to things would be an in-the-moment experience, and if Scott’s and his argument was the first concrete example they had...

With how different Gordon was to the rest of his family, he always worried that he would never fully fit in. When Jeff came back he was excited just as much as Alan, as the rest of his family, but Gordon was always worried about his dad the most. He cheered him on at his swim meets, sure, but Gordon was always keenly aware of how the man, outside of taking him to and from them and, well, cheering, lots and lots of cheering, never really asked more than How did it go, sport?

Gordon wanted to be the only Tracy with that fear. It sucked, but in the end, his family always came through even if they weren’t aware of his anxieties. Now that Alan has them, over his father no less…

That just brings them right back around to the start: Gordon would be lying to himself if he knew what Jeff thought of him, let alone Alan.

Alan was a perceptive person, and if Gordon lied to himself, Alan would see that and know Gordon was lying to him as well, and that would very easily make the situation worse.

However, before Gordon had any chance to say something, words pulled from his ass or otherwise, anything to ease his baby brother’s low thoughts, footsteps rustled in the distance, causing the two blondes to snap their heads to look to the side. What they saw were two men, one larger and older, another younger and seemingly out of his comfort zone, in a sense. Gordon was going to chalk it up to ‘being a rescuee after a tsunami’, but his squid senses were tingling, and he felt himself easily go slightly taut.

The younger stranger blinked a few times before snapping his head up to look at the two IR Operatives in front of him. His eyes lit up, and Gordon suspected it wasn’t because he was about to be rescued.

“Oh, shit, these guys are young. How much do you think they would sell for?”

And just like that, Gordon’s gut twisted into a killer pretzel and was dropped off a five-story building. This had to be a joke, had to be. These kinds of people were only supposed to exist in horror stories. In the dark parts of the internet that are mainly regarded as myths, created to scar the poor children who snuck onto their parents’ laptop without permission. Even if they were real, Gordon and Alan couldn’t have had that bad of luck to--

“Remember what we said about famous people? Forget the ages, these guys are International Rescue. Most clients will throw physicality to the wind if something famous is involved.”

Gordon also thought that your pupil shrinking to the size of the tip of a needle when you’re terrified was a myth, but as the blood completely drained from his face and left him white as a sheet, he had to concede he was wrong about multiple things tonight.

Holy hand grenade in a fucking handbasket.

The state of shock his body was forcing him to enter was bad, like, shock-blankets-are-required level bad, but trembles from a different body right next to him snapped him back into attention.

Alan was trembling, his grip on Gordon’s arm so tight that the older brother wouldn’t be surprised to find bruises when his outfit was finally taken off. There was only a marginal amount more color compared to Gordon behind those freckles, and Gordon couldn’t tell if his brother’s pupils were any smaller with the way the kid was flicking them around like crazy, “Wha-- what are they talking about?”

Ah, shock was one hell of a bitch.

Alan was 18 years of age, an adult. He flew a rocket into space for a part-time job. He also lived on an island where he was mainly homeschooled and was soon to be off at some kind of college (maybe even online classes). As embarrassing as it could be, his family wasn’t going to be the puritan fam that shoved the mere thought of sex to the sidelines. Alan had four older brothers who spent a significant amount of time on the mainland around other people more than the youngest could ever dream of. Most time of which was spent in their respective high schools (or Olympics fields, ‘cause Gordon wasn’t exactly of age when he still had school over there) with hot girls and boys-- similar hobbies or not-- that had the same level of hormones flying about.

They knew things and weren’t afraid to answer any question Alan had.

Also, Alan had a huge internet hobby; video games, browsing social media, you name it. The kid’s probably heard stories that would give Scott hernias for days. Alan had to have stumbled across the topic of human trafficking somewhere, whether it was the plot of a teen-rated video game or something as simple as a news article. At the end of the day, this kind of thing was something everyone was subconsciously aware of, but you didn’t think about it because A, it was awful, and B, more often than not, it didn’t happen to you.

But the way Alan stared at Gordon like the prankster held the stars in his palms-- as if he could snap his fingers and bring them to safety in the blink of an eye reminded Gordon that Alan was always a little bit more sheltered than any of them could help it. Alan was one of the last things their mother gave them, and the way John and he essentially became her just split into two people hurt more than any of them would be willing to admit.

Alan knew the horrors of the world firsthand, but he never had to fully grasp it because his older brothers would be there to shoulder it for him.

Always.

Like hell Gordon was going to drop that tradition today.

“Alan, run.”

With a shove and a half, Gordon ripped his little brother’s hand from his upper arm and sent him in the other direction. Gordon also ripped his own heart in half as he ignored the somewhat naive cry of Gordon! as it got quieter and quieter. Despite the guilt, Alan listened and booked it. Like a baby calf being told to run away from starving lions while the mom stayed behind to protect it. Gordon, mostly satisfied that his bro was safe, turned around and swallowed the bile that was rising in his throat.

He was hoping his glare could be as scary as Scott’s or even Virgil’s, but the way the creepy strangers just chuckled as if the threat he posed was no bigger than a tiny kitten filled Gordon with both anger and fear. They knew he was from IR. If they weren’t scared of him, what did that mean they were prepared for?

The older man stated an order, one that had Gordon’s blood run cold, “Go after the other. I got this one.”

Gordon got out half an angry “Hey!” before the man that spoke suddenly charged at him. On reflex, Gordon put himself into a fighting stance and prevented both of them from toppling over. He hardly considered it a victory, though, as the other guy who was ordered to run after Gordon’s baby brother was gone and out of sight before Gordon could even look up after nearly having the wind knocked out of him.

Gritting his teeth and shoving the man off of him, bringing his arms up and curling his fists with a glare brighter than his hair, the only plan he could go with was the one where he took this guy down as quickly as possible. Right now, the only solace Gordon had was the fact that his brother was a quick puppy. He didn’t only need ‘Three to move at the speed of light.

C’mon, Alan, show me why Track was worth it.

Focusing completely on his enemy, Gordon figured the man was intentionally slimy with his words, as the only thing he did in response to Gordon tensing like a cornered animal was to chuckle in cold amusement, “You’re a wily one, they’ll like that.”

Don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t throw up don’t--

Gordon reinstigated the fight with a snarl, landing a punch that didn’t cause as much damage as he wanted, but it was enough for him to gain a slight upper hand. The man wasn’t thrown off balance, nor did he majorly flinch back from the recoil, but he did understand that he had to play more defensively. It was like two stubborn stallions fighting over the mare in the area.

One young and smaller and quicker, his age not a roadblock but an easy strength. If he hit just right his opponent would topple over as quickly as he could throw his fists. The older one, however, was still larger, and while he might have been slower and less agile, his age allowed more wisdom and understanding. He’s probably seen (and kidnapped) many like Gordon, so he knew exactly how to play him like a damn fiddle.

It was hard to say who would win until one of them was either running for the hills, beaten and bloody, or dead at the victor’s feet.

Gordon wasn’t sure how long they went at it, but he knew it was longer than he liked.

He was somehow barely winning it regardless, and he was fully prepared to give Penny a big heckin smooch for the lessons that were currently saving his life, but even with her endless knowledge and background, she couldn’t prepare Gordon for dirty tactics. Stallions fighting over mares usually just involve two of them.

Right as Gordon was able to grab the man’s arms and wring them around his back, a magical third person appeared, different to the second one that went after Alan, like a freaking wizard with his own magic wand.

Which was also known as a cattle prod to most.

The pokey object was jabbed into his side. Fire filled his body, making him scream out in pain. Gordon remembered when he and Virgil messed with one back on the farm as kids and how they learned their lesson the hard way. He was hoping to never “learn” it again. Yet as a couple thousand volts flared throughout his abdomen, even with the suit, he had to relent and let go of his makeshift hostage. His body was on autopilot and it said get away from source of burning pain.

His body tried, oh, it tried, but what was previously his prisoner managed to stand in the blink of an eye and swing a fist into the side that wasn’t being tortured by an agricultural device. With another short, cut off scream, Gordon fell over onto his ass. His wheezes were brutal, the air not wanting to come back into his body despite itself. At this point, the logical part of his brain was telling him he wasn’t going to get away and he should save his energy to withstand whatever these people were going to do to him, but as always, the emotional part was overriding everything.

Shit, guys, help! Scotty, Virg, Dad--

He turned around to be on his hands and knees and scrambled to try and run as Alan did. He might be faster in the water than on land, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t one quick son of a bitch when he wanted to be. It was enough for his gym classes, it was enough when he needed to run away after a successful prank, it was enough when his grandma needed a new test subject...

But it wasn’t enough here.

The cattle prod was shoved into the back of his neck, and with it came darkness and a growing sense of dread.

Please, Mom, get Allie to our family.

#thunderbirds #thunderbirds are go #gordon tracy #alan tracy #my post #my fic #i FEEL like im forgetting tags wtf. im 99% im not but STILL #hang on i added (a thunderbirds fanfic) to this cuz now that i look at it #that title is VAGUE AS HELL lmfao

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blouisparadise · 5 years

Photo

Upon request, here is a rec list of fics where Harry and Louis fight or argue over the course of the fic. While there is at least a small argument between them in the vast majority of fics, we tried to narrow this list down to include fics where there’s either a larger fight or a bunch of smaller ones. Happy reading!

1) Forever, Uninterrupted | Explicit | 8578 words

Harry finds a mysterious picture in Louis' bag one night and drives himself crazy over it. It's definitely not what he thinks. An excuse to write Harry in rut, because there's already so many heat fics out there.

2) Poppies In May | Explicit | 9457 words

And maybe he deserves it, Louis thinks bitterly. His hand curls around the fence tightly, and he feels like if he lets go he’ll slid onto the cold ground and never fucking get up again. Maybe standing here, staring at Harry’s hunched over, retreating back is what he deserves.

3) 3B Neighbor | Explicit | 10407 words

A mysterious neighbour keeps slipping the worst sort of notes under Harry's door.

4) Rather This Than Live Without You | Explicit | 10715 words

Harry decides to give it all up. Louis refuses to be left behind.

5) We Should Get Jerseys | Mature | 12147 words

Harry is a hockey player, and Louis is his slightly melodramatic boyfriend.

6) No Bleeding Hearts | Explicit | 12651 words

“I’m going to come out,” Louis says abruptly. His grip on the controller is tight, knuckles whitening. He doesn’t look at Harry when he says it.

“What?” Harry says. Louis sucks in a breath through his teeth.

“When we re-negotiate our contracts. I’m going to come out.” Harry fumbles with the controller and manages to set it down on coffee table without cracking it in half.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Harry says. Louis is still pointedly not looking at him.

“I’m not having this argument with you again, Harry,” Louis tells him. He leans forward and deposits his own controller on the table beside Harry’s before standing up. “I’m gonna go to the hotel.”

7) Know You Got That Thing (That I Like) | Explicit | 15798 words

Note: This fic has a BH mention.

In all the ways he thought about their reunion going, watching Louis finger himself open was not on the list.

8) Wait For Me (To Come Home) | Explicit | 16066 words

A future fic of time stamps where Louis finally comes to grips with a love he'd denied for too long.

9) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

10) Dance Like Warriors On A Battlefield | Explicit | 20083 words

Down in the arena, the triumphant gladiator places his foot on the back of the loser, holding him there as he waits for instruction on his next move. Kill or let live. It’s barbaric, really, the bloodlust involved in this sport. Louis is pretty sure that if it wasn’t for his distaste for the killing there would be a lot more blood soaking that sand.

As it is, his father rarely gives the kill order anymore. He gives the order to let the loser live. Louis rolls his eyes, turning away. He doesn’t miss the way the gladiator’s eyes linger on him.

11) Up To No Good | Explicit | 26525 words | Sequel #1 | Sequel #2

Harry doesn’t think of himself as a womanizer, not at all. Sure, he enjoys sex, enjoys how women feel underneath him, and by some people’s standards he has sex with quite a lot of people, but that’s no reason to tell him that he can’t have a female PA anymore.

It’s especially no excuse for giving him a male PA who’s possibly the most gorgeous boy in the world who won’t even let Harry look at him for too long.

Sometimes Harry hates his life.

12) All The Lights are Full Of Colour | Explicit | 26727 words

So, fast-forwarding eight years from the day Harry met Louis, he is now a twenty-seven year old owner of one of the most up-and-coming eating establishments on the London restaurant scene, father of two wonderful boys and… separated from his husband. Now, that last part definitely was never a part of the original plan.

13) Time Out | Explicit | 27539 words

Harry and Louis are perfect for each other.

Everybody knows it.

They know it, their friends know it, everybody knows it.

That's why Zayn, Liam and Niall won't let them get away with breaking up.

No chance in hell.

14) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he’s ever seen.

15) Where The Lights Are Beautiful | Mature | 31170 words | Sequel

The accidental bonding a/b/o fic.

16) Close To Nowhere | Explicit | 34589 words

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

17) No Matter Where You Are (No Matter How Far) | Explicit | 35799 words

An Everest AU where Louis sets out to climb the tallest mountain on the world and meets a curly-haired guy named Harry who worms his way into Louis’s life. It’s not long before reaching the summit becomes the least of Louis’s worries.

18) The Things I’d Do To Wake Up Next To You | Mature | 36019 words

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

19) Bloodsport | Explicit | 40283 words

“You know how our next game is against the Cardinals, right? You remember how vicious those guys can get. I wanted us to come up with some plays, maybe work on a block from the left--” Louis stops when he hears a chuckle. He doesn’t think he’s said anything particularly funny, so he turns to Harry, waiting for an explanation. "‘S funny, ‘s all.” Harry throws his finished bottle somewhere near the other discarded ones. “This is the first time you’re talking to me in eight months, and it’s still about football.”

20) The Sweetest Incantation | Explicit | 40598 words

Harry is a witch who's still working on developing his powers and Louis is a werecat who falls into his life and turns it upside down.

21) Falling Into Place | Explicit | 40754 words

Louis and Harry spend nine years apart but inevitably find their way back to each other.

22) Another Hazy May | Explicit | 41043 words

Louis is a terrible poet and Harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. Bookshop meets military meets summer romance AU ft. Malboros, the Backstreet Boys, and underrated literary devices.

23) Show Me Life Like I’ve Never Seen | Mature | 42953 words

Louis never expected to leave the small art studio three blocks down from his job with anything besides the painting he caught a glimpse of and simply couldn't forget.

24) Can I Not Like You For A While? | Explicit | 43346 words

Louis Tomlinson is awful. Harry is just as difficult, and they’re both terrible to each other. It makes being in the same acapella group together quite complicated.

25) Just A Feeling | Explicit | 43977 words

Note: This fic is a sequel to this fic.

The first time that Harry thinks about marriage in relation to Louis, he’s eighteen years old, standing in the middle of a crowded frat house, six drinks down and another in his hand.

It’s not the first time that he’s laid eyes on Louis. It’s not even the second time, or the third time, but Harry doesn’t believe in denying what his brain is trying to tell him, and his brain has been telling him that Louis might be the prettiest person in the world ever since that first fateful meeting, when Harry hadn’t been able to stop looking and Louis had ‘accidentally’ spilled his tea all over Harry’s lap in retaliation.

26) Love's Truest Language | Explicit | 48193 words

“I don't want your flowers.” Louis chided before directing all of his attention to the arrangement in front of him. Harry laughed under his breath as he stood to his full height, “Who said anything about them being for you, love?”

27) Tug-Of-War | Explicit | 55475 words

Louis' husband dies suddenly and he is left with nothing. Well, not really nothing. He has Harry. And a St. Bernard puppy named Link, whom his late husband left behind for him. Louis takes care of Link and Harry takes care of Louis. Everything is okay until suddenly, it isn't.

28) Into The Midnight Sun | Explicit | 63523 words

It's 1983, Harry embarks on his first world tour and Louis is a budding actor in LA. Life spent apart isn't easily adjustable, but somehow they make it work.

29) Why Can't It Be Like That | Explicit | 63567 words

A fashion AU with a royal twist, where Louis doesn't need a stylist, Harry's thrilled to have a real life Barbie doll, and they're both very wrong about each other.

30) Perfect Storm | Explicit | 80230 words

What do you do when your best friend asks you and your (now) ex to be the best men at his destination wedding? You can either tell him the truth, tell him you’re not together anymore, and deal with the consequences, or you can pretend you’re still together and roll with it, just pray you don’t spiral. Fake it ‘til you make it. You know, for the sake of the wedding. Harry and Louis choose the latter.

31) Pinkies Never Lie | Explicit | 83615 words | Sequel

AU in which Louis hates his job and loves Harry, Harry just wants a distraction, everyone else wants them to get their shit together, and Louis learns the hard way that new beginnings are only possible when something ends.

32) I Want You So Much (But I Hate Your Guts) | Mature | 83648 words

AU in which Louis gets accepted to play for the Manchester University Alpha-Beta Football Team. The only problem: Louis is actually an Omega. He is determined to make it big in the football world, though, and he can't do that bound to an Omega team. With the help of a faked doctor's certificate and some pretty strong suppressants he is ready to fight for his dream. That Harry Styles (Alpha, second year and youngest football captain of the A-B team in ages) doesn't seem to like him complicates matters, though.

33) Electing Strange Perfections | Explicit | 84757 words

Back for the summer from university, 19-year-old Louis is faced with a massive problem: their new gardener is quite possibly the most gorgeous man he's ever met. Over the course of the summer, Louis and a 25-year-old Harry will learn that love can be found where you least expect it.

34) For Reasons Wretched and Divine | Explicit | 94655 words

Ten years ago, Harry Styles was just a nerdy kid with one friend and a debilitating crush on the captain of his school’s football team. He thought the stars were smiling down on him the day he and Louis Tomlinson were paired for their end-of-term Literature project. But because Harry’s life is decidedly not a fairytale, the budding friendship quickly leads to the least happy ending of all time. Now, Harry Styles is a household name. Barely twenty-seven with two Grammy nominations to his name, the singer-songwriter is poised to take the music industry by storm with his highly anticipated third album. So, what happens when the best producer in the business is also the only person Harry’s vowed never to speak to again?

35) Blue Ice | Mature | 102967 words

An AU where Louis finds himself in a marriage he didn't bargain for.

36) A Taste Of Desire | Explicit | 104414 words

A Victorian ABO where Harry is the owner of the most successful cotton mill in Manchester, and Louis is an opinionated social activist about to disrupt Harry’s world.

37) Tainted Saints And Velvet Vices | Mature | 126056 words

A self-fulfilling Hogwarts AU in which Louis is new to seventh year and Harry is the resident devil-may-care Slytherin set to make his entire experience a living misery. Due to less than favourable circumstances they're forced to forge an unwilling, tentative relationship for their own survival. Repressed emotions, decidedly unromantic ballroom dancing, Triwizard Tournament tasks, creative jinxes and twilight flying above the Forbidden Forest ensue.

38) All I Want | Mature | 289307 words

When Harry and Louis got together it wasn’t under the best circumstances. Louis was taken by another. But go figure that the way they ended up together is the very same way it ended. And Harry left Louis. He left him with a lot more than he thought. A story about how people’s misconceptions almost destroyed a love that went beyond measure.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

#blp fic recs #fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #arguing #fighting #blp

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meditativeyoga · 4 years

Text

The secret to effortless living

There was a time when survival for a human being indicated food as well as sanctuary. Today, food as well as sanctuary are obtaining a growing number of challenging as well as pricey. It is great to have all those things however they ought to not become the determining variables of your life. What kind of food you consume, what type of clothes you wear, what type of residence you reside in-- each one organises these points inning accordance with his capacity but they should not come to be restricting elements, they are just the sustaining variables of your life. Whether you travelled from your the home of your office on foot or on a bicycle or in a Maruti or a Mercedes, it is simply a concern of different individuals's monetary capacities, choice as well as opportunity.

The important thing is you arrived, the ways of traveling is only incidental. This is real with every element of your life. However the incidental variables have taken on such sensational relevance that the fundamental feature of life has been completely forgotten. The process has come to be a lot more vital compared to the genuine thing. We are attempting to graduate from one material point to another due to the fact that our company believe that is happiness.

Don't follow the herd

It is in pursuit of happiness that you do the whole circus in your life. Different people could have various concepts about the best ways to arrive, but everyone remains in pursuit of happiness. The human race has actually been doing so much to achieve happiness and also wellness on this world that in this quest, we are damaging the extremely world on which we live. We must first recognize exactly what our idea of wealth is. Is it simply around more buildings, even more equipments, more cars and trucks, more ... everything?

If I go to the West as well as ask them, "Why don't you practice meditation?" the usual antiphon is, "Oh but we have actually reached pay bills." I claim, "Why do you individuals create a lot of expenses? If your whole life has to do with paying costs, why generate them? You can stop on your own and live even more pleasantly, isn't really it? To pay those costs, you are simply functioning endlessly. What's the factor?" The solution usually is, "everybody is doing it." No matter, they are all driven by someone else. You do not attempt to do exactly what somebody else does. When it involves outdoors circumstances, we have actually not included equivalent abilities. No two human beings are made with the same level of ability. There perhaps someone who can do a thousand points in a day without experiencing or being emphasized. Possibly you could do only three things in a day, it's okay.

Limit juggling to what you can

Life puts us in several situations where handling things is like balancing. Being in the family members is a big balancing procedure. Keep your feelings aside as well as simply consider it sincerely. Our lives have numerous complicated activities. We have different sorts of connections and also different degrees of involvement with different kinds of individuals on a daily basis. We are frequently changing from one kind of relationship to one more. Possibly you were just handling with two balls as well as it was rather simple.

Then you selected up more spheres as well as the juggling came to be challenging. When you wish to use up more task, there will be extra managing. You can not help it, that's the means it is. So when you require to juggling, you had better develop some skill. Otherwise, the spheres will be spread all over the location and you will be going crazy each day since you cannot hold things in area. Exactly how efficiently you carry your life just depends on the level of proficiency you have over juggling. This minute you might get on the phone with your business companion as well as the next minute you could be speaking with your spouse or your youngster. Life resembles this, it is continuously shifting. You can't simply tune on your own: "Ok, today I am going to resemble this." So, due to the complexity of this modification, if you occur to treat your wife like you treat your organisation companion, quickly you will remain in trouble. Or if you treat your business partner like your wife, you will certainly remain in problem, isn't really it?

So prior to we enter any situation, you need to check out your ability to manage. "Can I juggle all this and still enjoy or will I get shed when juggling?" If you are very little of a juggler, you much better continue to be alone as well as manage on your own. Every little thing includes a certain discomfort and satisfaction. There is a cost to pay in every aspect of life.

So prior to handling anything in your life, you must ask yourself: are you ready to pay the price? Every person needs to choose just how much of exactly what is right for him. Your neighbour may have a 100-bedroom house-- maybe he wants to reside in a hotel. For yourself, you must decide just how much you require. You do not do things like him. This is the greatest problem, we are attempting to do things like someone else. That's the wrong method to come close to life. We have to decide what does it cost? of exactly what we must carry out in our lives-- just how much outside task or internal wellness or social wellbeing would certainly maintain our life balanced without spoiling us and also the ambience around us. Unfortunately, such knowledge is missing out on in the world, we are just going widespread. It is crazy the method we are going due to the fact that the sort of lifestyle the globe has selected is simply not sustainable.

Don't die surviving

Today, if you have adequate loan, you could enter into a store and get every little thing that you need for a whole year. It has never ever resembled that on this world. Survival has constantly been a wonderful struggle. Today, for the initial time, the survival procedure has actually ended up being absolutely arranged. Currently is the moment to find expression to further measurements of being a human. The majority of individuals select to complicate their survival. We still do not seem to be do with survival. We wish to make the survival process so complicated that we will certainly spend the remainder of our life defending survival.

It is essential that you streamline your survival process to ensure that the further dimensions of that you are find expression in your life. It is incredibly essential that you find out exactly what it means to just sit below and also reverberate as an item of life since that is the supreme ecstasy of being below. And also now that our survival is typically cared for, I assume we should trigger a wave of bliss any place we go. As well as because we do not do that, we wrap up that a human being ways being an unpleasant, ineffective 'absolutely nothing'.

When you utilize the expression, "Oh, I'm simply human," it indicates, "I'm just powerless nonsense." We require to change the context of what it indicates to be human. When someone claims, "I'm human" he has to suggest "I'm delighted. I can wonderful things within myself." We've decided to make a human being right into a miserable worm who simply defend his survival throughout his life. We are capable of arranging our survival as if we don't have to have a hard time for survival every day-- unless we make complex the survival process.

For most people, the survival process itself is ending up being a full time job. Simply to work, to reproduce and to die one day, exactly what a fuss they make! Also a worm as well as an insect with their minute brains handle their survival rather well. Nature has actually offered every human considerable intelligence to care for his and also his offspring's survival. You are simply exaggerating it.

Stop clinging

A while earlier, I had a major squirrel problem in your home. The mommy squirrel brought to life 4 children. 3 of them got consumed yet the mommy doted upon the last one. She would watch her child go throughout my points, biting into everything. Here was a mom that was excited for her kid to discover its squirrel business as quickly as feasible, she intended to be complimentary of him as soon as feasible. Sadly, most human moms and dads don't have this sense. They want their youngsters to find out the human service as slowly as possible due to the fact that they don't have a life of their very own. They obtain some life just by hanging on to their kids. Which's the reason there is so much juggling. People declare to be one of the most intelligent varieties. Our youngsters should be totally free of their moms and dads a lot quicker than anyone else, isn't really it? Yet that does not occur due to the fact that we look at our youngsters as a funding based upon which we could live our future lives-- when we are alive as well as likewise after we are dead. It is as a result of this that the juggling appears so much of a headache, not or else. Family is not the issue, your personal insecurity and also your very own 'desire' to stick to things around you is the actual problem.

Don' t do anything for fulfilment

Human life does not finish with survival, it begins only when survival is looked after. If we had concerned this planet like any various other animal, then eating, sleeping, replicating and dying someday would certainly have been a complete procedure on its own. Also as a human you should do all these points. Somehow for human beings life doesn't seem to be fulfilled with them. Whatever activity you could have executed, life has not attained fulfilment. In every stage of your life you believe, "If this takes place, my life will certainly end up being total." As a child you believed, "If I obtain this plaything, my life will certainly be full." You obtained it but after 3 days, you threw it away. Life did not acquire fulfilment.

Then you believed that if you complete your education and learning, life would certainly be full. That also taken place but there was no fulfilment. Then you began to think, "Exactly what's the usage of functioning like a donkey? If only I get wed to that man or woman I enjoy, my life would certainly be made." That occurred and after that you know just what happened.

Fulfilment does not come since of some activity you do. Just if your frame of mind is complete, will certainly your life acquire fulfilment. Now, the human condition is such that without knowing anything regarding the nature of his presence, you are attempting to make a living and in some way pass via the globe. Your body, mind, emotion and also energies are the automobiles with which you travel with your life. Without any kind of understanding, control or subjective experience concerning them, you are attempting to live your life. This is an unexpected existence. When you exist mistakenly, even if you procure someplace in life, it will just be by accident. So, when a person is experiencing his whole life in an accidental way, experiencing anxiousness, concern and battle is all-natural. We go about stating, "Life is a battle." Life is not a struggle.

Get a grip on yourself

You are obtaining emphasized out merely due to the fact that you have no idea the best ways to function smoothly within on your own. You have no control over your own system. If your mind, body as well as powers were taking guidelines from you and also behaving the way you wanted them to, you wouldn't get worried no issue what was occurring around you. You should do something about this. If this does not occur, you will certainly continue living life by accident and also always be really hoping that circumstances function out.

If you are looking for to increase the range and also play of your life, if you are seeking challenging circumstances, then you need to do something concerning the way you function. Challenging scenarios suggest that you will face scenarios that you have no hint around. If you are the kind that obtains stressed out, normally you will certainly prevent those situations.

When you prevent those scenarios, you will naturally avoid all feasible growth for yourself. Today, so several people are getting into challenging tasks and are multi-tasking, however a large number of them could not be naturally outfitted to deal with such situations. This is why we see so lots of individuals losing their performance and simply damaging up while seeking their occupations-- surrendering to burnouts.

If you are regularly looking for obstacles in your life, and also you don't equip yourself with an internal security as well as an internal feeling of pleasure within on your own by your very own nature, you are bound to become a calamity over a duration of time. You could achieve success in your job however as a human you would have stopped working because you could not enjoy the procedure of life. Such individuals are not cheerful or serene, they have actually come to be stressful. If you are difficult, that implies somehow you have failed yourself, isn't really it?

When you tweak yourself to such a factor that the fundamental professors operate so wonderfully within you, then normally the most effective of your abilities will certainly simply drain of you. If you really intend to bring high quality into your life as well as to perpetuate that quality right into life around you, the most importantly thing that you have to do is to establish your internal truths in a certain way with a particular security. Just what is within you-- your mind, your feelings and your system need to not experience upheavals when facing the challenges of life. Just when there are no inner turmoils as well as concerns can you handle the outdoors problems well.

Take the first step

So exists a method to produce an internal circumstance? Yes. As there is a science and also technology to developing outside situations the way we desire them, we have an entire scientific research as well as technology to produce inner situations the method we want them. As we have engineered the globe, we can additionally engineer our interiority. Without it, we end up operating by accident.

The firstly action that every person ought to take is: furnish on your own making on your own the means you intend to be. If this occurs, creating the exterior will become easy. You inform me, when can you utilize your body and mind well? When you are pleased or dissatisfied? When you more than happy you can effortlessly handle points, yet when you are stressed out or dissatisfied, the very same little points freak you out. If you are joyful, increasing a hill is also effortless, right? It could take a great deal of exertion, however you feel it's easy since you are doing it happily. When you are doing it joylessly, every little thing is difficult. When you are doing it happily, everything is effortless.

Effortless does not imply resting on a sofa. When I say simple and easy, I am stating, as soon as you get involved in a particular state of pleasantness within on your own, as soon as you are joyous by your very own nature, every little thing is easy. When you are satisfied, you agree to playing around and do everything since you do not feel the initiative of it. Effortlessness does not imply lethargy, ease indicates that in your experience, it's not burdensome.

Once a person is at simplicity within himself, normally he functions at his ideal. Bringing this sense of ease, bringing this feeling of effortlessness within you is essential. If you truly want to boost the high quality of your life, you have to take this step and also be willing to spend a little bit of time for your inner health and wellbeing. If this is done, you will see a remarkable change in the means you work. The necessary innovation is there-- I call it Internal Engineering, the optimal of wellbeing.

Inner Design is simply this, that you craft your interiority to make sure that you operate effortlessly within on your own. This does not indicate you stay clear of challenging scenarios. When you are uncomplicated within you, you seek them. Inner Design implies you discover exactly how to perform this piece of life. If you know just how to conduct it, after that inning accordance with your ability, you can additionally conduct the outside effortlessly.

If your health and wellbeing is constantly under hazard, you will certainly not take care of the outdoors well. If you intend to manage every little thing well outside, if you wish to achieve success in your life, you must simply discover exactly how to utilize these 4 limbs and a few mind cells, that's all that's needed. Just how vivid and also focused your mind is, how vivid and healthy your body is, that's just what decides just how successful you are.

#healing #meditation #Yoga #yoga retreat

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meanwhileinthebroomcloset · 4 years

Text

Mhm... This post was meant to be much shorter, honestly. Not to mention it got super personal, which was not my intention. It actually made me a bit teary-eyed and I’m usually an emotional constipated dumbass.

Am I ready for the potential backlash this is going to cause? Eh, probably not. Am I going to engage in the discourse this can cause? Ah, you wished. I have more to waste my energy on. I didn’t write this post to argument with anyone, anyway.

Gonna risk it, still.

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

Isn’t it kind of ironic that it was witchcraft that made me fully return to Catholicism?

I mean, I kind of never left, hence the ‘’fully’’ in that sentence. But now I really know who I am. Although I don’t think Catholicism is the most accurate label (Christo-pagan, perhaps?) it’s the one I grew up with, and the one that comes more naturally to me.

Studying the beginning of it all, the commentaries of Pagans and Jewish writers at the time are just so fascinating and honestly beautiful.

Then everybody started chasing and killing each order, and it sure wasn’t fascinating anymore.... ‘’Stop being murderous revenge-driven assholes’’ I angrily mutter into my book, while frying my brains for High Middle Ages exams.

And then it split into Catholicism and Arianism (not that Arianism! The no-holy-trinity-on-my-watch one), and that was a totally different can of worms. Then Rome got pissy and the Orthodox Church officially became a thing that existed.

Man, why is religion so messy?

Faith is such a strange thing. So much power, so much potential for good and evil and everything in between. I started losing mine some years ago.

Contrary to some horror stories you may hear, especially from people who are now no longer Christian, I was raised in a pretty open environment.

‘’Don’t be mean, have faith, give second chances... Here are the commandments. They’re perfectly acceptable, see?’’

‘’Yes, there are different religions, but you should always respect them and the people that believe in them. Remember, Jesus was Jewish. Here’s some historical context... ‘’

‘’What the hell kid, nobody here is going to hell. Also, you’re five, there are no children in hell. No, the cops also won’t... Lord give me patience... Are you sorry? Did you apologize? Are you going to try to not repeat it? Great! Then it’s all fine and dandy!’’

‘‘Man, we are definitely all going to hell... At least since we’re all gonna be there, we could form a basketball team. The devil can be the referee. He will be an awful one, but hey, we’re in hell’‘

‘’I know the bible says the earth was created in seven days, but when that story was written, people didn’t know dinosaurs were a thing. Science is cool, and we are not in the middle ages. ‘’

‘’Blind faith is dangerous, kid.’’

‘’Thinking thoughts and acting upon them are two very different things.’’

‘’Yes, the second mom in that Solomon story was willing to see another kid die for the sake of an argument... sometimes people are that bad.’’

‘’God is perfect. People aren’t. That’s the world we live in and it’s okay.’’

‘’There are people who do terrible things in name of religion or say they’re doing it because the bible says so. Don’t believe them. There’s no excuse for murder and abuse.’’

‘’Yeah, Portugal is very enthusiastic when it comes to Catholicism... ’’

Pretty good summary of religion in my childhood.

Still, I found my faith waning. I didn’t really know why and I’m still a bit iffy talking about that.

‘’What did witchcraft do, then?’’

Well for once, it reinforced my ideas on how faith worked, and how strangely powerful it can be. Being skeptical is healthy but completely closing yourself off because something isn’t completely clear is too radical and you're just doing the equivalent of closing your eyes to the less brighter lights.

My god, I can hear the hardcore atheists coming...

Can I remind you there are more things in life that will not provide the proof you want, but that won’t mean they aren’t there? Relationships. Relationships are too complicated to have straight answers, a lot of the times. People hide their feelings, they fake them, express them and react to them differently. There are so many things we don’t understand or know about yet, like space and organisms that live on this Earth.

Sometimes what you need is a different approach to see they exist! It’s one of the things I learned with witchcraft.

There was also the religion itself. As I worked on my magic, I started seeing magic around me again. Not just with gods I had never considered and the one I was leaving behind, but with the faith I had always known.

The affection when someone says ‘’Our Lady’’ when talking about the Virgin Mary, my family calling upon Saint Barbara when thunder comes, children screeching excitedly because the Compasso has arrived to give us the news that Jesus has come to life again in Easter, the marble cemeteries, the comforting prayers, the masses I couldn’t ear because the local church’s echo is terrible, those boring long-ass weddings (oh my god, how many blessings do two people need?!), the loving dedication I see in every saint carved, my church's priest’s good humor... I never owned a rosary, but I always like the ones my aunts and grandparents keep.

I found Christian and Catholic witches on this site and I finally got to my conclusion. It’s really there. I just needed a different approach to it!

These things made me believe again, but also in new things.

‘‘But you can’t do that! You can’t combine magic and christianity’‘

Oh, watch me. And also watch the centuries of cunning women and witches in European history and those still alive today. The women that make ‘’mezinhas’’ and other types of favors in Portugal sure as hell are doing witchcraft, but you can bet your ass they don’t think they’re any less Catholic than anyone else. They don’t care about your opinions and I will hopefully do the same.

Relationships with deities are personal, and my relationship with God, Jesus and all of them is no different in that regard. I am a witch, I am human, I am catholic. I’m a follower, not a fucking mindless sheep.

You know what? I always compared God to Aslan. The lion wasn’t always there for Narnia, he wanted his people to solve their problems on their own. Get their independence, as a good parent does. They both don’t come up all mighty, that’s a posture reserved for evil and people who need a good slap in the face. They come to your level. God may come through one of the less eldritch abomination looking angels, though...

‘‘Well, if you have god, you shouldn’t need anything more. He's everthing. Why are you also a witch?’‘

Excuse me, do I look like a goddamned saint to you?! What part of human did you not understand?

And before you bitterly start quoting the Old Testament, let me remind you that it’s Old for a reason. Christ came to this earth to give us new rules since he technically saved us and things became different. That’s why Jewish people follow the Old Testament, for them, the messiah hasn’t arrived yet. Not to mention that to them that testament is not Old, it’s just the Torah.

You can keep quoting the bible to me all you want. But in my short twenty years of life, I was thankfully able to learn a few things. One of them is that the world isn’t black and white. Yes, I know this sounds obvious but there are some really dumb people out there. Also, this is the hellscape that we call tumblr.

Anyway, as I have mentioned several times before, I’m a never-ending knowledge seeker I found the world beneath my feet is not pure myth and I want to explore it. Look at me go.

I keep a critical mind with everything. Faith and religion are not an exception. I’m not overly skeptic about faith itself, but I am of its writings, interpretations, translations and etc... I study history, it’s a skill you naturally develop.

And there’s quite a few plot-holes, characterization differences and much more. It was written by humans that couldn’t do a cohesive collaboration even if their lives depended on it. Godphones sometimes don’t get a good reception. There’s a ton of cultural context to unpack. I hear people saying all the time that taking the bible’s words literally is one of the most stupid things you can do.

And when I say people, I mean priests, clergy, theology students, etc... I didn’t hear this from my drug dealer in the street corner..

...... I don’t have a drug dealer.....

Anyway...

There are many problems with the catholic church. There are many problems with a ton of catholic and christians out there. I will never deny that. Shit needs to get fixed and maybe even chucked into the trash.

But I still believe in God, I still believe in the saints but I also still believe there are more gods and spirits out there. And those things are separate.

I have no interest in converting you. I’m just yelling into the void.

If you are one of those that no longer is a christian, or catholic because some dipshits banged self-hate onto your head, I’m really sorry. I hope you heal well and get the help you need in your new faith or lack of it. Banging the ten commandments back onto their heads repetiedly and tell them to actually read the damn book is optional, though.

In the end, if you are (or are trying) to be good, you deserve respect and freedom to worship whoever or whatever you want. You don’t need to be perfect, you can just strive to be the best you can be in your situation.

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

And now back to our schedueled programing.

#well #that was a thing #rant #christian witch #catholic witch

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aacnaz · 5 years

Text

Arranged Marriage Alternative

@ravensflockofrobins

Jason took a deep breath, counted to ten, and released it.

This was stupid.

As Gotham’s head of Foreign and International Affairs, he had to be in meetings and deals that involved foreign countries. Doing it for a few years now, he knew that while he wasn’t perfect, he could get the job done. So far, things have been relatively easy.

Until today…

When his idiotic brother, Richard, decided that he wanted to break his 5 years old arranged marriage barely a month before his wedding...because he fell in love and slept with his bride-to-be’s best friend.

Richard barely avoided Jason’s punch toward his face.

He did not dodge the one to his gut.

But no matter how good it felt to punch his idiotic brother, that did not fix the problem.

Richard was supposed to marry Raven, the daughter of the legendary Trigon the Great, or Trigon the Terrible (depended on who you talked to). He was an impossibly tall man with the muscles to match. Known for his elaborate loincloths that he wore with pride, the only other attire on his body were forearm armor, leg armor that covered his thigh, and boots that came to his knee. Thick, black and intricate tattoos littered his chest and shoulders. He religiously wore a helmet with two thick and long horns that curved upward. His red eyes held mischief and his all-knowing smirk showed off his abnormally sharp canines. Known for his many conquests in a short timespan, Trigon was a formidable leader. Ruling many nations and having a vast amount of land, he knew just the right moves to make one’s land rich and how to make another starve to the brink of cannibalism.

Which is why when Bruce took Jason’s advice to make an alliance with Trigon, he wanted to hug his adopted father. He was still fairly new to his role as head of Foreign and International Affairs and while confident, he was also wary that his advice wouldn’t be heeded. Bruce, fortunately, understood the importance of being at least civil with such a ruler.

Richard, apparently, didn’t.

Which is why Jason, Bruce, and Richard was sitting on one side of Trigon’s negotiation table with their hosts, Raven and Trigon, on the other side (the latter with a shit-eating grin).

“My my, isn’t it a lovely day to talk about your breach in our contract.”

Jason held in his groan. He was sure that Bruce was feeling the same way.

“Now father, let’s not be too harsh.” Raven stared into Richard’s eyes as her cool, steely voice filled the room. “It’s not every day that your husband-to-be and your best friend sleep with each other in your own bed, at your own engagement party. I just wished I walked in when they finished and not right as they stained my sheets.”

Oh, that’s right.

How could Jason forget something so stupid!

At least Richard had the decency to look guilty.

“Rae-”

“It’s Raven, Richard.”

This was not off to a good start.

It was then Bruce decided to step in.

“Miss Raven,” she turned her eyes to the older man, “we would like to apologize for what happened and the disrespect we brought upon you.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you.” She turned her sharp eyes back to the guilty man in front of her as she continued. “I want to hear it from Richard, the man who is supposed to be my friend only for him to humiliate me on my own land.”

Everybody’s attention turned to the blue-eyed man who could normally charm himself out of any situation.

This was not one of them.

“Raven, I’m so sorry. I...I fucked up. You are one of my closest and best friends and I can’t believe I would throw away our relationship like it was trash. All I can do is ask for your forgiveness, but I understand if you say no.”

There was a tension building pause as all eyes turned to Raven, but she didn’t respond.

She just continued to glare at Richard, watching as he squirmed under her scrutinizing gaze.

Like a worm dug out of its soul ridden home.

Finally, she rolled her eyes.

“You are forgiven, Richard. You are a dick, but you are forgiven.”

A full smile spread across Richard’s face and Jason could feel the tension of the situation leaving him.

“We will not wage war on your land for your transgressions.”

Sweet sweet music to his ears.

“And our alliance is off.”

And just like that, everything came crashing back down.

“Wha-but I thought all was forgiven!” Richard exclaimed.

“It is,” Raven started as she shot them a bewildered look, “but you can not possibly think we can continue with the alliance if you can’t even follow through with your end of our contract. You should be grateful that this happened before the marriage and not after. Your head would’ve been sent back on a spike.”

Trigon smiled, made eye contact with Richard and added, “It’s a very lovely ceremony. One that involves days of humiliation before we chop off your head.”

Richard gulped as he rubbed his neck.

Jason let a little of his annoyance and frustration out with a small sound. Trigon’s military was one of the largest, deadliest, and brutal ones in history. They had a hundred percent success rate and was feared with good reason. The last few battles they were to engage in forfeited out of sheer terror. It was better to have someone like that on your side.

Not to mention Trigon had a large territory. It stretched so fucking far, it touched seven other nations as well as held near-complete control over the river that ran on the other side. And while Gotham hits it off well with all seven of the other nations, the nation that sat on the opposite side of Trigon’s was Hal Jordan’s, a ruler that didn’t hate Bruce but he did take great delight in having Bruce personally ask to use his roads.

They needed this alliance.

“Is there any way we can convince you to reconsider?” Jason looked from Raven to Trigon as he pleaded.

Trigon smiled as he shook his head. “Don’t look at me. I’m just here to watch this trainwreck.”

Jason turned back to Raven as she glanced at him with apathetic eyes.

“You are Jason Todd, second heir to the throne and head of Gotham’s international affairs?”

Jason nodded as he stared into her violet eyes. This was his first time really looking into them. It was also his first time meeting the elusive Raven. For one, he never had the care to meet Richard’s friends. Nothing against Richard. He didn’t have the care to meet any of his sibling’s friends. For one, he had a big family and his family tended to have this unnatural pull with different folks of different strokes.

It was a mess getting their relationships right.

But with Raven being friends with not only Richard but Tim and Damien, their younger brothers, one would think Jason had plenty of chances to meet her. She was invited to many of Gotham’s social functions and gatherings. And for some reason, their paths just never crossed.

Which was a shame, because anybody who can get Tim and Damien to be sociable to each other was worth meeting.

It was also a shame their meeting was under such unfavorable circumstances.

“While an alliance with Gotham would be nice, it is not a need. What do you have to offer that would make me reconsider?”

For weeks before this meeting, he studied anything and everything that had to do with Trigon’s province. Searching for anything, any little thing that could prove Gotham’s worth. He was only able to find one thing, and could only hope it would get them somewhere.

“Does that name Angela Roth mean anything to you?”

Jason watched as Raven’s eye widen a little.

That got her attention.

“How do you know that name?” she asked as she stared into his eyes. Her eyes were so beautiful. So intense. Everybody else seemed to vanish from the room as Jason returned her stare.

“I have intel that you are trying to find information on her. Ms. Roth happened to be a citizen of Gotham. I can help you with your research if you will continue our alliance.”

It was a small trade, and Jason knew that, but it was all he had to offer to the prosperous family.

But it seemed to be working.

Raven appeared deep in thought as she contemplated the options. There was a hesitant that colored her face, but also, a light of hope.

This just might work.

“No.”

Fuck.

“But…” Raven started, “if you were to agree to one other condition, I might reconsider.”

Okay. They still had a shot.

“And that would be?”

“You, Mr. Todd, are to find me a husband by the end of the month.”

There was a pin dropping silence that settled over the room. Every member of the Gotham kingdom brains took a pause as they collectively looked at each other and back to Raven to see if this was a farce of some sort.

“Ms. Raven, you can’t be serious,” Bruce interjected, the first to speak.

“How is he suppose to find you a husband in two and a half weeks? He just met you today. It’s a near-impossible task!” Richard passionately voiced the very thought that Jason knew was in everybody’s mind.

Raven nodded her head before she finally spoke.

“You are right. It is near-impossible, but when there is a will, there is a way,” and then she smiled a positively sinister smile that was only rivaled by her father’s as she added, “and I’m looking forward to watching you try to find your way.”

Her attention turned back to Jason, her smile never faltering.

“Do we have a deal, Mr. Todd?”

Jason looked to his apprehensive family before he turned back to the beguiling woman.

“You got yourself a deal.”

Why did he feel like he just made a deal with the devil’s daughter?

#jayraeweek2019 #Jason Todd #raven #Arranged Marriage Au #jayrae

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erintoknow · 5 years

Text

my body is here and i am inside

fallen hero: rebirth fanfiction Ariadne deals with the aftermath of ‘helping’ Lady Argent find who was responsible for possessing her. ~3.3k words [ao3]

Prev: [maybe it will break and maybe it won’t]

Title from [Panic Attack by Liza Anne]

content warning for uh, suicidal thinking

–––

The wind whips the ends of your jacket about you. Stubbornly hold the halves together rather than zip up. Let the bay air curl around you, toxic smog and all. The Millennial Span Bridge isn’t really meant for foot traffic. There had been plans once, setting up a mini-mall in the bridge supports but the money had dried up not long after the bridge proper was built and the shops never opened.

But the walkway remained. Just had to hop two locked gates. No razor-wire, no electricity. Hardly a real deterrent. By the halfway point you’re high up enough above the water that you can see the occasional boat passing under. The sun is starting to set at this point – it’s been a long day – but you keep your sunglasses on.

Old L.A. would have have never called for a bridge like this, as far as you understand it. But things change when half your geography drops into the sea. There’s a safety railing to run your hand along, because of course there is. No one wants the bad press of your vanity project becoming a hub for jumpers. But it’s half-assed job. Find a joint that hangs down from the river of cars rumbling over your head and you could climb over it pretty easy.

On the other side and there’s even a convenient lip of metal wide enough for you sit on, let your legs dangle over the void. Kicking freely.

Well.

Here you are, Ariadne.

Now what?

It’s been, what? A few weeks? A month? Meeting Ortega in that diner. You haven’t gone back there since. It felt too portentous. And now the rest of the Rangers know you’re here. And you’re ostensibly alive. Hopefully they believe you about being retired. Hopefully Ortega kept quiet about what you babbled on to her about. She’s always been one to understand your need for privacy, but it’s not like she hasn’t screwed up before in the name of trying to ‘help’ you.

It had been a mistaken to listen to her at all. To let her drag you into somebody’s else’s problem. Why? Because you missed her? You miss plenty of things you can’t have. That doesn’t mean you should go for it. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. And then–

You shudder, hug yourself tight as a wave of nausea washes over you again. God. You’re getting sick of that. Sick of feeling helpless. Sick of feeling powerless. Out of control of your own life. Sick of–

cables, like snakes in the grass,

coiled around your feet. the red threads wrapped

around your wrists pull

tight and move you forward. so much lighter now

that it’s not you that’s moving it

but then who’s driving?

and then there’s herald’s goofy smiling face and

doesn’t he understand that something is wrong?

somebody, anybody, help

Is that what it’s been like for every person you’ve possessed over the past two years? You want to believe Argent just got some unlucky combination; an unusually strong mind and the need to keep her not entirely under. She was just… unlucky. Sorry honey, you rolled snake eyes. Nothing personal, honest.

But Argent is the only mind you’ve actually seen the after effects for. How it has stuck on her like plaque on teeth, eating away at what’s underneath. You’ve never cared before. As long as no one immediately raised the alarm, what did it matter? Possession? Who would believe them? Nobody would. No one’s ever heard of such an ability in all the years the Hero Drug has been around, fucking up humanity.

But the Rangers would believe it.

Because it happened to them.

Because it happened to you.

Because coiled snakes and red strings wormed their way into your head and pointed your own gun at your head. Because the puppeteer tossed you through a window and over the edge.

How many people have you done this to already?

How many will never feel right again for the rest of their lives?

You lean your head back against the metal mesh of the protective webbing that’s supposed to keep you on the other side. Feel the hexagons of steel press against the back of your skull. Cover your face in your hands. You want to cry, can feel it in your lungs. But your throat’s too tight, your eyes are burning, the tears not coming.

Was it that you didn’t know or have you just been running away from the truth the whole time?

This is what you are now. A monster. Or no, a ghost. That’s cute. Maybe that should be your villain moniker. Or fuck it, maybe you won’t bother with one at all. Just roll with whatever the press calls you.

Or maybe they won’t call you anything because your body will have turned up on the beach, another waterlogged victim eaten by the city of devils.

Julia might be sad for a little bit, but it’s hard to imagine. It feels selfish pretending she’d care about you at all. Seven years is a long time. Maybe– maybe the Farm had been lying to you about her, about what she’d done, but that didn’t change the fact that having you in her life would only make Julia’s worse. Any passing pain she might possibly have over your loss again would be worth sparing her what’s coming down the line.

Chen would be relieved, you’re certain. All that talk about being happy you’re alive. You know a sack of bullshit when it’s thrown in your face. He wants you staying far away from his precious Rangers.

Lady Argent would rather just kill you herself. Or would if knew the truth. Maybe you should tell her. Let her have that closure, something you never got. Would that help her or make it worse? You don’t know. And then maybe she wouldn’t actually kill you. Maybe she’d just hand you back over.

Dr. Mortum would be confused about the sudden disappearance of her new favorite business liaison, you’re sure. But she’s been working in the underground for years. People disappear without warning all the time. She’ll have forgotten Jane before the end of the year.

Jane herself… without you to take care of her, she’ll wither and die, comatose as she is. There’s nothing you can do about that. She was a dead woman on life support before you found her. You just staved off the final verdict by a few years is all.

Are you missing anyone? You think that’s everybody. It’s not exactly a compelling list of reasons to stick around.

What reasons do you have to not to step off anyway?

So you can burn the Farm down? Expose the Directive? If you don’t try no one else will. No one else is in a position to even guess at what’s going on like you are. This project has literally been the only thing holding you together since you escaped their clutches two years ago. Sometimes you screw up and fall asleep instead of jumping into Jane and–

You drag your nails against your scalp, force yourself to swallow. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest, rapid shallow breaths leaving you lightheaded.

At least out here there’s no one that can see you like this.

A lot more people are going to get hurt before this is over. Unless you stop now.

But if you stop you die.

The water’s far below you. Far enough? You’ll break bones against the water tension on impact. Enough to put you out? You’re not sure on the math. If you live, you probably won’t be in any condition to swim. You’ve always wanted to swim, but you’ve never actually put this body in water, would you float? You don’t know. Would you be able to stay composed until you run out of oxygen or would the animal brain take over and send you in a blind panic?

You don’t want to hurt but… maybe you’d deserve it.

“Enjoying the view?”

You freeze, head in your hands. Slowly you raise your head to find Herald hovering a few feet in front of you. His complete nonchalance at casually defying the pull of gravity feels a little surreal. You stare at him through your tinted lenses, uncomprehending.

Herald tilts his head with an uneasy grin. “Sorry, I was just passing by and thought I saw someone on the bridge. So…”

You close your eyes, breath out. In a way, this is a relief. You can focus all your anger on him instead. He’s obviously lying. ‘Just passing by’. Please. Bullshit. These assholes. As if you needed more proof the Rangers being aware of you now was only going to fill your life with even more problems.

“Are you okay?” Herald frowns and it’s all you can do not to groan. This is absolutely not a conversation you want to go down, and not with goddamn fucking boy-wonder Herald of all people.

“Were you following me, wonderbread?”

“Of course not!”

“D–don’t lie to a telepath, genius. Who put you up to this, Ortega?” There’s a tinge of guilt alright. It’s tempting to delve further, just pry the whole thing out of his head. Is Ortega having you tailed then? You didn’t work with her for five years to not have some idea how she likes to operate.

“Ortega has no idea I’m here, honest.” Huh, he’s telling the truth there. You’re not sure what to make of that. But then, that only leaves on other option.

“Oh. S-so it’s Chen then.” Yep, bingo. “What? Did the Marshal want to make sure I got home safe? How kind.” Why can’t these people just leave you alone to die in peace already?

“That’s– that’s not it,” Herald sighs, you can feel his exasperation. There’s a certain satisfaction in getting to knock that unsettling cheeriness out of his head. “Marshal Steel did ask me to look out for you, okay? But I mean it when I say I was just passing by.”

You open your eyes so you can glare at him.

“To be honest… I… kind of lost track of you three blocks from the building.”

“I don’t a–appreciate being followed.”

Herald dips down before returning back to eye level. “How did you know?”

“Of– of course I knew,” you lie, “I’ve been at this for years.”

“Were you always this cautious, back… uh, before?”

You flinch, scratch your neck as you avoid looking at him. “Y–yeah. Absolutely.” He buys the lie, thank god.

“Doesn’t that get tiring?”

Someone laughs, sharp and bitter and you realize it’s yours. Rub your eyes with the back of one hand. “Look. I value my privacy. O–okay?” You try to emphasize the word privacy, hope he’ll get the hint.

“I can respect that,” says Herald, the man who continues to not leave your presence. “Actually, um…” He hunches down, “I’ve been wanted to asking something, if you don’t mind, Sidestep?”

“Okay first; It’s Ariadne. Second; I do mind, actually. B–buzz off.” You flick your finger at him. God, just, go away already. You’ve got short and shorter futures to compare and contrast.

Herald frowns, shakes his head as he drifts a little closer to you. “Sorry, I can’t do that. Actually, uh–” He looks away from you again, scratching his neck. “You’re kind of technically trespassing now.”

“Are–are you kidding me.” You grip the edge of the lip with your hands, the metal cold to the touch. Would he actually try to catch you if you pushed off? “The Rangers really need to stoop to enforcing fucking trespassing signs?”

“If you need a lift somewhere I could carry–”

You cut him off with a hand gesture. “Absolutely not.” You grind your teeth. What do you need to say to make him go away? “You’re a hero, aren’t you wonderbread? Surely you’ve seen people brooding before.”

The spike of worry as Herald drifts even closer suggests that was maybe the wrong tact to try. “I heard you had a rough time today…?” He ventures, “I mean, from helping Lady Argent.”

“It’s n–n–none of your business.” Pinch the bridge of your nose, pushing the sunglasses back up against your eyes. “In fact, speaking of Argent,” you glare at him, “Shouldn’t you be off taking care of her? Isn’t she your girlfriend?”

That gets Herald to back off a little bit, a sudden backwash of unpleasant memories rushing back against you. “We’re on… a break right now, actually.”

“Probably because your– your priorities are so out of whack,” you snap. And yep, that one stings. He flinches and there’s a flush on his face now.

“She’s… been through a lot, and she just needs her space right now.” The way he talks sounds rehearsed, like he’s parroting what someone else told him. Not so confident now.

“I know perfectly well what’s she’s been through, thanks.”

“Was it… that bad?”

“God, Herald, that’s not my place to talk about. Try asking your partner.”

“I just want to… to understand what she’s going though?” Herald gives you a pleading look and you want to melt through the bridge and die. Is this really going to be your last conversation on earth? Playing therapist to some rich jerkward busybody with girl troubles? Really? This is how you go out? This is pathetic.

You run a hand through your hair, feel all the little knots and curls pull and snap. “You want to ‘understand?’ Then just try fucking listening for once.”

“I can’t listen if she doesn’t talk to me!” The genuine anger gets you by surprise. Herald blinks, and then his face turns beat-red. Ashamed of himself? Huh.

Maybe this is your chance. “Look, just leave me alone, okay? Go handle your own shit.”

Herald sighs, sits down next to you on the lip of the bridge. Goddamnit. “Did you and Charge go through phases like this, back in the day?”

You stare at him for a solid thirty seconds trying to process what he meant.

“Sorry, I just, I know you two had a thing and–”

“We absolutely did not!” You voice breaks and can feel your heart pounding in the back of your throat, “We worked together, that’s it.”

“Oh? I guess I got the wrong impression, I’m sorry.” Herald doesn’t met your death glare, the bastard.

You glare at him in silence and then… a morbid curiosity overtakes you. “What in the hell could–could–could have ever given you that impression?”

“Uh…” Herald balks, and suddenly there’s a dozen different thoughts running through his head and you can’t get a read on any of them. Finally he says, “Well, I mean, there had been a lot of rumors on the usenet forum back in the day?” Rumors!? “But to be honest, I never believed any of it until that first time when we were all together at Argent’s request and you and Charge walked in.” Herald shrugs, “And then I was like, ‘oh, well, that makes sense.’”

You don’t have a response to that. Don’t even know how to start parsing it.

It was so much easier not to care when you only knew these people from news reports or memories.

“So, I know you said you’re… fine – and I believe you, honest.” Herald’s lying again. “But in that case, do you mind if I just… hang out with you, watch the sunset? This isn’t a bad spot.”

You take a deep breath. In. Out. Push up your sunglasses while you rub the tears and salt out of your eyes. God. Did you smear your make-up? Are your scars visible? Shadow exposed? You can feel your heart-rate speed up again. It takes an active effort to let the thought go. Who cares? Ortega’s not here.

“Yeah, sure.” You say. “Kn–knock yourself out.”

You don’t give a damn what Herald thinks.

“Thanks.” You can feel Herald relax a little as he sits a few inches away from you. Not crowding, but close enough.

You close your eyes, sag your shoulders as you hit your head back against the metal railing lattice. “I know what you’re– what you’re doing.”

That gets a spike of alarm from him. God, his thoughts are like an open book. You hate it.

“I’m just happy to take a breather.”

“D–don’t bullshit me Herald. We’re both adults here.” You turn your head glare straight at him. “If you breath a word of this to anyone, I will find out where you live and fill your bed with thumbtacks.”

“Okay…” Herald looks away from you, uneasy. “Noted.” He fidgets, hands in his lap. “Hey, can I ask you a question?”

You groan. “I can’t stop you,” you lie.

“Why ‘Sidestep’?”

“Huh?” You blink, stare down at the water far below. little waves beckoning you on down. “Oh, well… Why ‘Herald’?”

He cringes, embarrassed? Hah. “It was my management team that came up with it. Focus testing or something? I was just hap–”

“Stop.” You hold up a hand, dismiss the words with a wave. “I d–d–don’t really care that much.”

“Oh. Uh–okay.”

You sit in silence, kicking your legs up and back under the lip. Take a breath. In. Out. “I wanted people to focus on the fighting skills. That it–it was all trained or something. Reading people’s thoughts is… harder if they know you can do it. Th–throw up obstacles, walls.”

“So it was a strategic thing?”

“Well…” You allow yourself a small smile. Still not looking at Herald. “S–something like that. There… there was, uh… person I–I knew around then. Thought it w–was… too dangerous. She asked if I was g–going to to sidestep my way through every fight. So…”

“So it was… a spite thing?”

“Hah! Y–yeah. I guess.”

“How did they take it?”

You frown, trying to think back. “I… I don’t know. I can’t remember.” Did it ever come up? There was like, a year between when you started the name and Chelsea left, wasn’t here? It must have. “Wh–whatever. Spite can get you pre–pretty far in life if you use it right.”

“I don’t know about that…” Something’s buzzing just under Herald’s thoughts and you can’t quite get a read on it. Suddenly the boy’s a mystery, go figure.

You stay there for another hour or so, quietly suffering Herald’s little questions about your career, and it quickly becomes apparent he knows way more than someone who wasn’t there for any of it should. You’re not sure how to feel about that. Other then old.

When the sun starts to drown in the ocean, you reluctantly agree to let Herald give you a hand back over to the sane side of the railing. He follows with you back to the foot of the bridge, despite your repeated insistence that you were just going straight home and to buzz off already.

You go through four taxi cabs before you feel confident enough that you’ve lost Herald to actually go home.

Home.

It isn’t much, a singular combined bedroom-kitchenette and a tinier bathroom. Pretty sure the complex had been a tourist trap motel once upon a time. It’s yours though, and there’s something surreal about that. You’ve never ‘owned’ an apartment before. You keep telling yourself you’ll properly decorate one day, but it never happens.

Flip on the lights, greet the cockroach as it scurries under the cabinet “Hi Larry,” stagger over to your bed and fall over face down.

Roll over and grab a pillow, clutch it to your chest, draw your legs up into a fetal position. No more possessions ever again. If you can’t work a mental suggestion or rely on a bribe, you’ll just have to find another way. You’re not inflicting that on another person again.

You bury your head in the pillow.

If Herald hadn’t shown up then, would you be here right now?

You don’t want to think about it.

At least these days, when you don’t feel like being you, there’s a solution.

And you don’t have to worry about Jane being scarred for life; you’re the only consciousness she’s got.

–

next: [the space between the finish and the start]

#fallen hero #fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fhr #fhr/Ariadne #mc #herald #tw: suicidal thoughts

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our-smooty · 5 years

Text

450 Years

Fandom: Gorillaz

Rating: Mature

Relationships: 2doc

Tags: psychosis, abusive relationship, 2doc, near death experiences

Summary: Plastic Takes 450 to decompose

It stank to high heaven on the shores of Plastic Beach. Some horrible mixture of garbage, seawater, and spraypaint all roasting in the sun and mixing with the smell of dead fish. Even he’d noticed the smell, which was surprising given the bashed-in state of his nose. Within the first week, he’d given up getting rid of the smell and accepted it, though he still occasionally felt a pang of jealousy at Cyborgs lack of olfactory senses.

To be honest, the smell was the least of his worries. If he was being honest, he wasn’t 100% sure where he got this island from, or how he’d gotten there. The past few months had been a blur, and he’d either been too high or too drunk to remember most of what happened. Now, 6 months on, he didn’t think it really mattered.

Because Murdoc? Murdoc deserved to be isolated out here, in the middle of nowhere. He deserved the be hunted by pirates and Boogieman, to be forgotten on his own garbage-pile prison. As every day passed, each one blending into the next in a haze of hallucinations and drugs, he never forgot why he deserved to be there. He reminded himself at every opportunity, that he deserved to die, that he was awful that she--

That it should have been him.

In a blink, a year had passed, and he celebrated by trying to jump off the pretty pink balcony of his bedroom. Cyborg stopped him, of course. She was programmed to protect him, even from himself. She must have been the one ordering all the supplies as well because no matter how much Murdoc drank, there was always more. Never enough.

It’d been a shock when 2D showed up in that suitcase. To be honest, he wasn’t actually sure if he’d kidnapped the singer or if someone else had. Having someone else around revived him enough to think about other things. The line between reality and fiction began to blur and before he knew it he was writing an album, forcing the singer to perform with Murdoc’s fucked up copy of their bandmate.

It was one day like this when Murdoc had let 2D up from the basement--just to stop him crying, the singer’s crying was echoing through the building and worming into his brain--that the bassist well and truly snapped. They were sitting in the studio, 2D spinning round and round in a chair, Murdoc plucking nonsense on his bass when Stu had come to a halt right in front of him.

“Eh Murdoc,” he started, his twangy voice grating against Murdoc’s raw nerves. He grunted in response, stopping his strumming but not looking up. He didn’t like looking up at either of them anymore, didn’t like the way their eyes made him feel. “What’d’you think about takin’ a trip, jus’ t’get off the island for a lil’ bit?”

Again, Murdoc grunted in reply. The singer continued. “I-I was jus’ thinkin’ we’ve been workin’ so hard a-and there haven’t been any helicopters for ages an--” Murdoc dropped his bass to the floor suddenly, startling the other. “O-or not! I-it’s fine!”

2D cowered in the chair, his fingers nervously tapping against one-another. Murdoc stood stock-still, his fists clenched, breathing rapidly. “You wanna leave?” His voice was deadly calm, masking the inner rage boiling away. He made a decision. The singer nodded but didn’t dare speak.

“Right, up you get then,” Murdoc said, jumping to his feet and striding out of the room. 2D clambered behind him, worried but also excited at the chance to finally get off this rotten hunk of garbage.

Murdoc led them through the building and out into the sunny walkway. The singer skipped happily out the door and into the sunshine; he hadn’t been outside in so long and the warmth on his skin was heavenly. He didn’t have time to bask long, Murdoc was already down the path and near the dock where his submarine was floating. In seconds he’d unlocked the hatch and jump in, leaving the singer to dash clumsily to catch up.

“Sit down, strrrrrrap in, Dents,” the bassist exclaimed, wasting no time in getting things started. A strange, manic glint shone in his eye, his movements just a little too quick to be regular. 2D didn’t notice, too busy planning his vacation away from Plastic Beach.

Within minutes they were jetting off, leaving a trail of bubbles behind them. Where he’d usually be too scared, this time 2D was staring out the porthole, watching the pink plastic get further and further away. By the time it was out of sight and he turned back to the bassist he realized he had no idea where they were going. A quick glance into the back seat also told him they’d managed to leave Cyborg behind.

“So uh, where we goin’ then Muds?” he asked, suddenly feeling significantly more nervous. The Satanist didn’t answer, his gaze level and unwaveringly focused on the deep blue emptiness in front of them. “Murdoc?”

They sat in silence, 2D getting more and more antsy with each passing minute. Each creek and moan of the sub made him jump and whimper. Eventually, he couldn’t take it, and he ducked down in his seat, mask over his face, eyes covered.

“What’s your problem, then?” Murdoc growled, spooking the younger even more. He reached out a hand, still looking forward, and yanked the mask off, tossing it in the back. “Can’t stand that stupid thing!”

S-s-sorry Murdoc!” the singer cried, shaking. Murdoc grunted before pressing a few buttons, stopping the submarine. Suddenly, it was very, very quiet. “Why’d you stop?”

Murdoc leaned back, both hands behind his head, and let out a sigh. “Because,” he reached under the seat and pulled out an unmarked bottle of liquor “we’re almos’ outta gas. Need gas for life support.”

2D blanched. “O-outta gas? Whaddaya mean outta gas!? How’re we gonna get home?”

Murdoc shrugged. “Dunno, mate. You’re the one of wanted a vacation.” The singer stared at him, completely gobsmacked.

“It’s not my fault! How was I supposed to know we didn’t have enough gas!” He let his head fall in his hands. “We’re gonna die out here, we’re gonna drown.”

“Actually, we’ll probably suffocate first. Or get crushed to death by the pressure when the sub sinks,” Murdoc added casually, popping the cork on the bottle and taking a pull.

Eyes wide with fear, 2D turned on the bassist, fists clenched. “This is all your fault! You’re killing us both!”

Again, Murdoc was quiet. He still hadn’t looked at the singer properly since they’d left. He watched as Stu frantically pressed buttons and pulled levers on the dash; it was no use. The key was stashed away in the bassists pocket, and the sub wouldn’t do a thing without it.

“Why’re you doin’ this?” 2D moaned, ending his futile button-smashing in favour of curling up in his seat. Murdoc sighed loudly, and nudged the bottle against his shoulder.

“Aren’t you tired, D?” he asked. 2D took the bottle none too gently and drank. “It’d be easier, this way, gettin’ drunk and sinkin’.”

2D coughed at the bitter burn of the low-grade alcohol. “I don’t wanna die! I wanna go home to Russel an’ Noo--”

Before he could finish her name, Murdoc stood looming over him, fist raised. The singer coward, expecting the blow. When it didn’t come, he spared a glance up at his would-be attacker. Murdoc was still looming, but his hand was limp at his side.

“You and me, Stu, we’re connected. It’s like one of those stupid teen novels yeah?” The singer watched him pace back into the body of the sub, swinging the bottle wildly. “If one of us goes, we both gotta go, so why not jus’ get it over with? Why wait it out when the whole world’s gone to shit?”

“What the bloody fuck are you on about?” 2D spat back at him. “You’re out of your fuckin’ mind!”

Murdoc was obviously frustrated that the younger man didn’t understand. It was so obvious, and he almost couldn’t believe 2D was that thick. “Don’t you feel it? It brough’ you to this island, in that suitcase!”

“That was some freak in a gas mask,” 2D snapped. “Probably one of your friends.”

Murdoc rounded on him, finger raised. “Then you’ve seen him too! Fuck, I thought I’d really lost it.”

That confirmed it. 2D had been suspicious before, given Murdoc’s erratic and downright nonsensical, but now he knew for sure. “You haven’t been takin’ your medication, have you?”

“What are you on about? I’m fine.” Murdoc gestured wildly with the bottle, splashing liquid everywhere. 2D shook his head sadly.

“You think drowin’ us in the middle of the ocean is ‘fine’?” he asked. Nothing he said was going to make any difference, he remembered how Murdoc was before the meds and knew that the man was probably completely detached from reality. “Nevermind. I’m going to look for some spare fuel in the back. Jus’ don’t… do anything else ok?”

Murdoc turned on him, face snarling in sudden anger. “Don’t fuckin’ tell me my own business! I’m in charge here!”

“S-sorry!” 2D yelped. Murdoc seemed to pause for a moment, before deciding pummeling the younger into a pulp wasn’t worth it. He sat on one of the cots with his booze, content to spend the last few hours of his life drinking. Stu was still determined to find a way out, and he quietly made his way back to the storage area.

After an hour of searching, he’d found nothing useful. A lot of the stuff was junk, spare bits of wires and empty bottles. With fear bubbling sharp and violent in his chest 2D sank to the floor, defeated. “We’re really gonna die.”

“Quit your whinin’, everybody dies,” Murdoc grumbled. He’d been quiet as Stu searched, obviously uninterested in saving them.

“I’m only in my 30’s, I don’t wanna die yet!” the singer cried. Tears began to run down his face.

With a grunt, Murdoc sat up and wobbled over to where the singer was sitting. He sat beside him heavily, offering the bottle again. “Dyin’s not so bad, Stu.”

“How would you know? You aren’t dead,” 2D moaned, taking bigger and bigger gulps from the bottle. Murdoc laughed bitterly and relaxed against the cold metal wall.

“Might as well be,” he mumbled. 2D looked at him warily, noting the dark bags under his eyes, and the gauntness of his cheeks. The bassist really did look sick, how had he not noticed before?

“Whaddaya mean?”

Murdoc sighed. “I’ve been alive a long time, longer than I think I know about,” the older answered. He could feel the emptiness in his chest aching. “I know I can be a right bastard, but it’s all been about me, you know?”

2D shook his head. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about Murdocc. You’re completely mad.”

“You’re probably right,” he agreed. They sat like that, a few inches apart, sharing the bottle until it was empty. “D’you remember… Jamaica?”

2D let out a short laugh. “How could I not? We were so drunk the entire time, it was great.”

“What about that night… the one after Noodle and Russ went back?”

2D thought back through the haze of alcohol. Russel had taken Noodle home once they’d both gotten tired of the constant partying, but 2D and Murdoc had stayed behind. The two of them had always been a bit more wild than Russel, not to mention Noodle was still just a kid. He tried to bring up a clear memory of the days after when it’d been them two alone. It was all a blur.

“Nothin’s really comin’ to mind, no.” Murdoc looked disappointed, if not a little upset.

“Figures,” he sighed. “I always assumed you forgot.”

A niggling voice in the back of 2D’s head made him stop drinking, and think really hard. “I-I remember when you fell outta that tree, and then nothin’ until we were on the plane back home.”

Murdoc sniffed. “S’probably for the best. Dunno how I remember any of it either.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” 2D asked, his suspicions growing, The more he thought about it, the clearer things were getting, like pulling back the curtains on a hidden painting. A dark room, hands, lips on his.

“We weren’t that drunk, at the time, you know,” Murdoc said firmly. “Forget I said anythin’, it won’t matter soon anyways.”

A warm body pressed against his, whispered words and bright pleasure. “Are you sayin’ what I think you’re sayin? That we…”

“Snogged, yeah. Tossed each other off a few times” Murdoc confirmed. 2D felt his stomach flip.

“Why are you tellin’ me this now? Why not before?”

Murdoc rolled the empty bottle between his hands, watching the tiny drops inside roll down the glass. “Cause it makes sense. We’re quite the pair, you and I.”

“I still have no idea what you’re on about. We snogged nearly a decade ago and now you’re keepin’ me hostage on a plastic island and drownin’ us in the ocean?” None of this was making sense, but what else could he expect? Murdoc was irrational and off his medication, there was no rhyme or reason for his actions.

“It. Makes. Sense,” Murdoc growled, gripping the bottle tight. “We’re meant to be together, Stu, in one way or another. This is jus’ the last step.”

“Murdoc,” the singer began, voice shaky, “you’re not well. You don’t need to do this.”

But he knew it was too late. They had no way of getting back to land, or even to Plastic Beach. It’d take a miracle to save them.

“I’m sorry,” the bassist said suddenly standing and pacing again. “It’s a shame to deprive the world of such a beautiful creature. But it’s the only way.”

“The only way to what?” 2D asked, voice trembling with both fear and anger. “You haven’t even fuckin’ asked me what I--”

“You would have said no!” Murdoc snarled, spit flying from his lips. “Of course you would--”

“How do you know?” 2D shouted tearfully. “Instead of askin’ me y-you dragged me to this stupid island an’ n-now you’re tryin’ t’drown me!”

Murdoc slowed at that. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. You don’t know--”

“Try. Me.” The look in 2D’s eyes was both hard and afraid. “We don’t have anythin’ else to do, except w-wait to die anyway.”

Murdoc sat heavily in the captain's seat, one leg swung over the arm. “I knew the first time I laid eyes on ya, not while you were in a c-coma mind, but after the second accident.”

“Eyes like tar pits, hair-like bloody cotton candy. The most gorgeous bloke I’d e-ever seen. The perfect frontman.” Murdoc held the bottle in his hands up, looking through the wet glass. “But you were always popular with the ladies, weren’t you?”

Stu listened, dumbstruck. “What are you trying to say you fancy me or something? I-is this your sick way of a-askin’ me out?”

The sub gave a sudden, violent banging sound, like metal on metal. It drowned out Murdoc’s dry laugh. “It’s not that simple, D.”

“Don’t. You don’t get to call me that a-anymore,” 2D said after he recovered from the noise. “Y-you’re fuckin’ sick, there’s somethin’ wrong with you!”

Murdoc laughed again. “Never said there wasn’t.” With a sigh, the bassist tossed the bottle aside to join the others littering the sub floor. 2D wasn’t really sure what else to say. They were trapped here, and he would rather not spend the last few hours of his life arguing with Murdoc, of all people. He reached over to one of the half-empty bottles on the floor and opened it, taking a swig.

“This is insane. You couldn’t, I don’t know, ask me out like a r-regular person?” he asked, hanging his head in his hands.

“Would you have said yes?”

The singer didn’t even have to think. “No, probably.”

“Probably?” Murdoc’s voice was softer now, his head tipped back against the armrest. “Don’t sound too sure.”

Why were they having this conversation now? The fact that he might be dead soon gave 2D the courage to answer. “Probably, I dunno. Maybe I f-fancied you back t-then. But that w-was years ago.”

Murdoc was quiet so long that Stu thought he might have passed out. He was about to get up and check--he didn’t really want to die alone--when the bassist spoke. “An’ what about now?”

He wanted to be mad. Really, he did. Maybe the air in the cabin was getting thinner, or maybe the singer was drunker than he thought. Either way, he couldn’t find it in himself to be angry.

“2D?”

“You kidnapped me. An’ y-you’re keepin’ m-me on this island.” Murdoc peered at him from the captain's chair, watching him speak. “You’re s-sick, completely deranged!”

“S'not a no, mate,” Murdoc said quietly. 2D sighed.

“I'm not talkin’ about this right now.”

“Why not. We'll be dead in an hour or so anyway. Come-on Stu, humour me,” the bassist begged, swivelling his body so 2D could see the pathetic pout on his lips.

“Sof off,” 2D moaned. Murdoc sighed dramatically and continued to pout. Every couple of seconds, he let out another, prolonged sigh until the singer finally snapped. “God this is s-so like you! Draggin’ me to this island, lockin’ me up, trappin’ me in this submarine!”

“I didn’t do this!,” Murdoc snarled. “This was always goin’ to happen!.”

“Y-you know at one time, I-I really liked you, M-Muds. I trusted you.” Murdoc was breathing heavy through his nose, his anger boiling over, but 2D didn’t back down. “But I’m sick of you abusin’ me and tryin’ to take advantage of me!”

Murdoc growled. “I’m not doin’ shit its--”

“Stoppit Murdoc!” 2D shouted, standing up to loom over the bassist. “You keep sayin’ you’re not the one doin’ it but I think you know, somewhere in that fuckin’ mess you call a brain that you are! You can’t keep livin’ in this fuckin’ la la land! You’re delusional!”

Murdoc didn’t answer, so he continued. “Are there even really people after you, or did you jus’ make that up? And why’d you made it look so much like Noo--”

His angry monologue was cut off by a sudden deep banging coming from the outside of the sub. Terror shot through both of them, their imaginations running wild. Murdoc straightened up in his seat quickly, fumbling with the keys in his pocket, though he knew they were out of gas.

2D shrieked as the banging got louder. It had to be that fucking whale! He couldn’t help but grab onto Murdoc’s shoulder tightly. “M-M-Murdoc what--”

“I-I don’t fuckin’ know!” Murdoc growled in answer, jamming the keys into the ignition. The engine sputtered briefly, then suddenly roared back to life. He was about to step on the gas when a pale figure swam out into view of the front window. “Fucking Hell!”

“Aieeeeeee!” 2D screeched. As the figure got closer, it became clear that it was Cyborg, her skin tinted an eerie green by the seawater. She gestured for them to ascend with a jerky motion, swimming upwards herself. Murdoc, eyes glassy and hands shaky, did so, 2D’s rapid breathing grating against his senses.

It didn’t take too long for them to breach the surface, the submarine bobbing lazily on the calm sea. 2D started out over the waves with something akin to wonder. As he did, the hatch on the roof sprung open, and Cyborg dropped inside, stalking over to the controls.

“Sir, please vacate the captain’s seat so that I may pilot us back to base,” she ordered in her monotone, robotic voice. So far from the voice her’s was based on. Murdoc didn’t argue, and he scrambled out of the seat quickly taking his rum with him.

2D sat back in the co-pilot's seat, still shaking from fear and adrenaline. Going from thinking they were going to die, to listening to Murdoc’s ranting, and then knowing he was going back to Plastic Beach was wreaking havoc on his nerves. Behind him, he heard Murdoc shuffling around drunkenly on one of the cots. Laying down sounded nice, but he was rooted to the spot, eyes darting between Cyborg and the horizon.

When he saw the silhouette of Plastic Beach breach the horizon he had to blink a few times to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Cyborg kept a steady pace towards the docks, and before he knew it they’d arrived. To think that just a few hours ago he’d been so excited to go on a “trip” with the bassist.

“Please exit the vehicle,” Cyborg droned and she activated the hatch release. Finally, 2D felt he could move, and he all but ran to the ladder and hatch. Murdoc was right behind him, climbing the ladder and jumping out onto the dock with drunken fluidity. It was a miracle he didn’t fall into the water.

“Downstairs,” he ordered. 2D was happy to go back to his prison for once if it meant getting away from the bassist. Unfortunately, Murdoc followed close behind him. 2D paid him no mind and stomped up the beach, into the elevator, and down to his room. He made his way inside and attempted to swing the door shut behind him, but Murdoc stopped it.

“Why’re you followin’ me?” the singer snapped. Murdoc stood in the doorway, posture defeated. “I don’t wanna deal with you anymore today.”

“2D…” Murdoc sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “Are you hungry? I could get Cyborg to--”

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!” Stu screamed, whipping around and stalking toward the other man. With significant strength he pushed Murdoc backward through the door, letting it slam closed. The bassist didn’t have time to react, not that he was sure what he would do if he had the chance. On the other side of the door, 2D slumped down to the floor, sobbing. Today had been too much.

Murdoc stood outside Stu’s room for a long time, idling and drinking from the bottle he’d brought back from the sub. He could hear 2D crying, though he could hear that most times, so he wasn’t sure if he was really hearing it or not. What did the singer want him to do? Murdoc stared down at the bottle in his hands helplessly. He hated feeling helpless or powerless, it made him unbelievably angry. With a growl and a shout, he swung the bottle against the wall, the tinkle of shattering glass doing nothing to ease his rage.

“Fuck you!” he shouted at the closed door before stomping away and into the elevator. He didn’t need this shit. Stu just didn’t understand, that was all. No one understood; Murdoc might as well be alone in the ocean. Set adrift on a slowly sinking submarine, doomed from the start.

#2doc #abuse #niccalpot #psychosis

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brickbled · 5 years

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( tw : discussions of drugs, some mild nsfw text, just generally... kara’s not a great person and frankly neither is brendan, especially at this point. )

the problem with being kara’s lapdog is that brendan frye isn’t really a lapdog.

he played at it for a little while, for long enough to get comfortable with the motions and hateful at the details. getting kara’s favor was the same thing as tacit approval in the theater, and sure, he was just one of those tech kids, moving around lights and sitting up in the rafters, hating everybody, toying with a flashlight and thinking about the way shadows move in light. then he was kara’s favorite, which meant he wasn’t just a tech kid any more. he was a fixture at her knees. then he helped her get a foothold in what she wanted - which was power, which was the drugrunning. every one of the upper crust was in on it, and she wanted into that world.

she probably could’ve gotten in all on her own. that was why he said no at first.

kara pouted at herself in the mirror, her lips already painted red. don’t leave me out here on my lonesome, brendan. you know how i get when i’m lonely.

then i’m not your lapdog, he said. she frowned even more, and maybe if it was months ago and he was still stupid and new and gullible, he might’ve fallen for it. here, though, he stood his ground in the doorway, leaning there. if you want to listen to me, then we’re here as equals. i’m not your rube and i’m not taking the fall for you. you want my say, then you listen to it. i’m no pushover and i’m not here to say yes to everything just to make you feel good. do we have an understanding or not?

we’ll see, she said. without another word, brendan turned on his heel. he made it about a step before kara’s voice filtered through the doorway. brendan?

what?

you’re lucky you’re so pretty, because you can just act so ugly sometimes.

you haven’t seen how ugly i can get, kara. i’ll see you on stage.

he can hear her simpering even if he doesn’t actually look back to see it. meanie.

the thing is that the deal’s okay at first. and then it isn’t.

what’s okay is all the planning and the initial execution.

how it works is simple. kara’s a pretty face and disarming towards most of the upper crust. she’s like them. brendan’s not. so she talks to them, flatters their egos and worms her way into all of the right places to get ways through towards what she wants. he calculates. he runs the numbers. he figures out the right prices to sell everything at to make a profit, and who to flip and hook. the thing is that kara doesn’t really see people. she sees dollar signs and saps and people to play. brendan sees more. he’s got clear vision. so he handles that end of things.

and within months, suddenly it’s her dealing to most of the theater crowd, who want uppers for all their late rehearsals it’s close, but it’s not what she really wants. not really. it’s still a few steps below the level that she wants to be at. just another dope fiend. not a star.

for this round, she’s playing lady macbeth.

“you should audition for our scottish lord,” she says, brushing her hair out. “you’d be good at it.”

“i do lights,” he says, leaning back in one of the chairs towards the back room. “i don’t act. so no.”

“not even for me?”

“especially not for you.”

she turns in her chair. her fingers wrap around his wrist, tugging him closer. “kiss me.” it’s not a request. kara doesn’t do requests.

so he does. it’s a passionless thing, mechanical motions. he knows how kara likes to be kissed, and that’s that. then her nails dig in hard against the inside of his wrist. brendan pulls back to look at her, the arch of her brow and the severity of her expression under all that makeup. “like you mean it,” she corrects, almost dragging him back. she sickens him. she is utterly poisonous and grim and if he had the chance he would turn her over to the bulls and watch her have her elbows checked.

unfortunately, they’re intertwined now on all that business, like two plants that grew in the same wretched pot. every goddamn day, he wants to burn down the whole party. but he can’t do it without burning himself down, not yet, and he’s not one for self-immolation.

so instead, brendan kisses her hard enough to push her back into the chair. it’s not about love. it’s not even about hatred. it is the spiral of two people who are good at working together, and who make each other infinitely worse. he wants to push her back into the wall. he wants to hurt her, just a little, because of the things she is very good at making him do. at making everyone do, really, but she likes him the most.

kara’s eyes are bright when he pulls back. she grins, lets go, and with a flick of her wrist, dismisses him in the same five seconds. “go on, honey. back to your lights,” she says. “i have to reapply all that lipstick. i had it just perfect before.”

in the hallway, he scrubs off whatever lipstick smeared on him on the back of his wrist. there are red marks there from kara’s nails, disappearing under his sleeve. all red, all of it. bloody.

after rehearsal, brendan watches from the doorway as she deals it all out, everything paid for earlier in the week, bag by bag, right under the teacher’s nose. a pass there, clasped hands next, a slide down a countertop. it’s efficient. it’s clockwork.

that night, the two of them are shoulder to shoulder at a local diner, a corner booth where no one’ll look twice at two teenagers in love. they’re talking profits. or they were, until kara goes quiet and he starts getting nervous. quiet’s bad. means she’s about to say something he’ll dislike.

kara rests her head against his shoulder. “brendan,” she says, sing-song, “sometimes i worry about how sullen you’re getting. you weren’t always like this. don’t tell me you’re moving on from me.” her hand moves to cover his, interlacing their fingers together. “i’d be heartbroken.”

he stares at the worn wall, at the sharpie graffiti faded by the sun that crawls through the window. “you? heartbroken? i doubt that.”

a pout. “you think i don’t hurt, brendan? that i don’t feel or ache or yearn?”

he looks at her for a long moment. “you haven’t lost anything yet. nothing to hurt about.”

“i’m worried i’m losing you.”

“i’m here, aren’t i?” for now. for tonight. not tomorrow.

for a moment, she watches him. something flat and alien sits in the eyes. “are you?”

——

the brain says, “kara’s been asking for you.”

the brain says, a little nervously, “she asked for your locker number. i swerved around her but i don’t know how long i can keep it up. if you’re going to play your hand, brendan, you ought to do it.”

the brain, adjusting his glasses and eyeing a crack in the concrete, says, “she’s really been trying to hunt you down, brendan. she seems pretty upset. i’d say it’s genuine but we both know better. she’s like a shark smelling for blood in the water, nothing pleasant about it. how’d you put up with her for that long?”

the brain, fiddling with the rubik’s cube, slotting colorful rows into place: “she said four o’clock, behind the theater, or else. she wants a yes or no by the end of lunch.”

brendan bares his teeth just a little. it might be a smile. it might be a snarl. “tell her i’ll see her there,” he says. “four o’clock sharp or else i blow.”

the brain grimaces. he doesn’t play the same games. he just keeps his ear to the ground. but he still knows when he’s on the board.

——

at 3:59, the back door to the theater swings open. kara emerges in casual clothes for once. maybe rehearsal’s over early. maybe she’s ducking out and heading home sick after this. the latter would be more satisfying. brendan leans against the wall and watches her approach, digging a cigarette out of her pockets and lighting it.

they stand there in silence for a moment.

“well?” he says.

she exhales smoke. “i really was going to run it all with you.”

“i don’t believe that for a second, kara.”

they stand there in silence for a moment. he slips his hands into his pockets and watches her, waiting for something to happen.

“i like you,” she finally says, turning to look at him. “i like you a lot, brendan.” kara reaches up to run her fingers along his jaw. her nails are painted a dark red, and that’s all the detail he gets before he knocks her hand away. it doesn’t take much force. it’s the surprise that matters, and the four different emotions that flit across kara’s features - shock, horror, rage, and then just plain hurt. maybe. he’s skeptical.

“if you dragged me over here just to con me, then i don’t have the time for it. i’m no sap and i’m one scheme of yours away from going off the track entirely.”

she flicks ash away onto the concrete. “i like you a lot less when you’re like this.”

despite himself, brendan can’t keep the disgusted noise out of his throat. he pushes himself away from the wall and makes it about three steps before kara’s nails dig into his shoulder.

“danny,” she says. “i’ve almost got enough to slide him over to the bulls, which means i’ll have the half of the school that isn’t bramish’s. like that. if i can see it through. and you’ve got a talent for it, in ways that i appreciate. i know you want out. so help me, and i’ll make sure you get out of all this like you want so badly.”

he stares up at the crack of blue sky he can see, half-obscured by the building. “so it’s about the dope.”

“of course it is.”

brendan closes his eyes for a moment. “wait,” he says. “i’ll let you know when i think the field’s good to play.”

“yeah? how?”

“i’ll get in touch.”

——

the next day, on lights again, he lets his legs hang from some scaffolding and scribbles in a cheap notebook. danny darview is kara’s main competitor, at least with the lower class and the people scraping at the edges. he’s got a rich network of lower-level contacts. thing is, people don’t like danny. he’s crass. he’s got control, but he’s got edges rough enough to rub most of his customer base the wrong way. in a simpler industry, it’d be enough that kara’s just the outwardly nicer option.

well. outwardly is the key word. if half of them knew what kara was, they’d run back and impale themselves right on danny’s most vicious traits.

but danny’s got an iron grip to go with all the edges. if he goes down, he’ll want to take as many people down with him as possible. think apocalyptic tendencies. the word is he almost ran with brad bramish but the two of them butted heads too much, thick-headed bastards that they are, and danny got the dregs and brad got the cream of the crop. they don’t talk. they hate each other, but they move around each other, two beady-eyed sharks in one too-small pond.

brendan can’t approach danny directly.

and this is the thing. kara’s good at getting one person entirely under her control, but it takes time and it takes a certain kind of person and it mostly takes someone she can touch and hold onto. that iron grip again, but made literal. brendan’s much better at seeing everyone as they are. they are systems. equations and variables. put values in and you get results, and you can swing things that way. he’s more of an ap english guy than an ap calculus kind of guy, but sometimes the two overlap.

he sets his foot against a support, propping his knee up, and rests the notebook on his knees. so who does he think of, when he thinks of danny? there’s brad, of course, but approaching him right now is risky.

helena’s barely got the wherewithal to show up to class. she’s no good as an informant when it comes to dirt good enough to get the bulls involved. jack williams’s a good informant, but he’s loyal, and he won’t want to risk his supply going up in flames. mark davenport is a half-decent bet, but brendan doesn’t do half-decent. he gets good results.

he drums the eraser on the notebook, staring at the backing. on a whim, he peers down into the scaffolding, looking, thinking.

oh.

there’s michelle benson, operating one of the spotlights. tall, stringy, her hair pulled back in a messy bun. what he knows about michelle fits on a page. she’s smart, she’s got a bad habit when it comes to benzo and she gets her fix from danny. and they dated for just a little bit, until he threw her aside when it came down to dating the right person to get in with the upper crust, or maybe she threw him aside. either way she came to kara. she chews on her lip when she’s nervous, which is most of the time unless she’s high. brendan’s seen her once or twice, behind the theater, sitting on the ground with helena, drifting and barely present.

he catches her after rehearsal on the way to what is probably another rendezvous with helena. he suspects, just a little, about the two of them. well - with helena, it’s obvious.

michelle blinks at him. “hi,” she says, staring at him leaning against the wall.

“hey,” he says easily. “got a few minutes?”

“yeah. does kara want something?”

it makes him seethe under his skin, the instant association. for now, though, he shrugs. “nah. just me and you on this one.”

“oh. i, uh, don’t really, i’m not...”

“nothing nefarious, i swear,” he says, amusement caught in the back of his voice. “just a few questions. you knew danny darview for a bit, right?”

“a bit, yeah.” the shuffle of her body. “... seriously, what’s the play here?”

“nothing involving you. i just heard that danny’s got a bad batch of k that he’s been trying to offload onto anyone stupid enough to take it for dirt cheap. he used to do that back when you ran with him?”

michelle has turned a few degrees whiter, her hands in fists at her side. “jesus,” she says. “i mean - no? he could be pretty stupid, sometimes, but - i mean, he could be impulsive, and he sold bad shit a few times, but… like that? i don’t know.”

okay. wind it back a little. brendan gentles his tone, just slightly. “i’m trying to get the straight on all this. heard it’s a bad batch of k. some people say it’s just cheap and he’s trying to rip people off. or he’s using it to get on the good side of a few girls. sadie’s got a k habit and i’m saddled with her for the rest of the year in ap english, so i’d just like to know if i’m going to wake up in a week and find out that —”

he’s interrupted by the nearly violent huff of breath from michelle, her face a vague rictus of horror. she scrubs at her eye. “yeah. that - he used to use stuff you’d like to keep you close. that’s why i got in with kara the second she had benzo. meant i could leave danny in the dust.”

“that’s good,” he says, encouraging.

“... so what did you want?”

“you know where danny does his deals? not like he’s got kara’s backstage to make everything happen. i want to tail sadie. see if she’s dealing with him or not, but i’m stuck here after classes for the next few weeks until this damn play’s done. if i can’t make our schedules work for a goddamned group project because she’s off buying special k, then i sure as hell can’t get her to wait around for me to see what she gets up to after school hours.”

she scratches at her throat and stares at him.

brendan stares right back, unwavering, leaning against the wall.

“i heard you and kara are on the outs,” she says.

he tilts his hand back and forth, giving her a knowing look, and says, “you know how it goes. hot and cold. sometimes you’re good enough. sometimes you’re less than dirt.”

it’s the right play. brendan knows instantly, from the bitter anger in her expression. “yeah,” she says. “yeah, i know how it goes. you got a pen?”

she writes the address down on the back of a chemistry assignment. “his dad owns the collision shop, so he hangs out there and helps out after school. it’s nothing scheduled, so he does deals in the parking lot most of the time. hangs out there in his car listening to pink floyd and getting high.”

brendan nods. “thanks.”

“yeah. is that it?”

he nods, folding the paper into eighths. 233 calle pintoresco. “i’ll see you at rehearsal.”

——

he needs a time. he has a location. he just needs to make sure someone flips. it takes a little time to concoct the right combination of things, but he can do that.

in algebra ii, brendan passes kyle george a note. kyle owes him a favor for cleaning up a few things back in freshman year, smoothing things over until kyle didn’t have brad bramish’s guys on his back all the time. it’s been almost a year, and brendan hasn’t forgotten. and neither has kyle, from the look on his face when the two of them meet near the basketball courts, early on a cool wednesday morning.

kyle scrubs at the back of his head. “so you want me to just… schedule something with danny? anything? and send you the time? not even the place?”

“it’s 233 calle pintoresco. i know already.”

“god,” kyle mumbles. “alright. fine. how - how long from now?”

he considers, running timetables. the thing is that turning danny over to the bulls isn’t good enough. he needs to sink the school’s trust in him too, two birds with one stone, optimally. “two weeks,” he says. “slip a note in my locker. we shouldn’t be seen together.”

“sure.” kyle’s nose is running in the cold. he sniffles. “and that’s it?”

“yeah.”

brendan watches kyle’s back as he heads for the school courtyard. he needs to see kara.

——

he shows up earlier than he ought to. not in the mood for debate today. no joy in it. he’s done enough sparring and plotting today, and he’s going to have to do some more, so he might as well see things through. kara startles when he appears behind her, but he knows it’s half-fake from the way she clutches at her chest. “oh,” she says, “brendan. you should announce yourself, honey. if the theater’s going to be haunted any time, it’s going to be now, and sometimes you show up like a gh —”

“i need something cut badly.”

she pouts. “you think i’m dealing in bad supply, brendan? me? when you made sure —”

“not for you. i’m going to funnel it to danny.”

“you think he won’t check?”

brendan smiles. she’s suspicious. she thinks he’s trying to sink her, as if he doesn’t know that would be a suicide mission right now. “that’s why i need something good first.”

her eyes narrow in the mirror. “i’m not just handing over what i have to danny darview —”

“do you want him to end up in the pen or not? think long term, kara. i need k, and i need some of it good and some of it cut with something as bad as you’d like it to be. either i make this story happen or you keep knocking elbows with danny every few days over who sells what and who’s undercutting who.”

she sits in silence for a few minutes.

then he gets what he wants. because she doesn’t have a choice. because she’s given him the reins just enough, and it’s too late for her to regret it. as much as brendan hates all of this, and her most of all, there’s a part of him that will always like making the gears turn like this, lining everything up like dominoes.

“what brendan wants, brendan gets,” kara teases, a makeup brush balanced between her fingers, and he leaves before he jams his foot against the leg of her chair and sends her sprawling.

——

danny darview, his hair stuck up in a dozen messy directions, spits on the pavement on the east side of san clemente high school and says, “why would i listen to your shit? you’re kara’s lapdog and the whole school knows it.”

“what, you think i enjoy it?”

“you think i know what you’re into?”

“if you do, darview, then you’re damn well more interested in me than i am in you. look, i don’t enjoy what i’m doing. if it were up to me, kara’d have her elbows checked and i’d be running the thing without all the theater dramatics and the run-around. dealing with her every day is like having a viper hooked up right in your shoulder and all you can do is feel it turning you rotten.” that’s genuine. and genuine’s good. it’s what danny’s hungry for, after everything with bramish.

“so i’m supposed to trust someone who’s outright telling me he’s going to betray someone?”

“i’m trying to offer you a goddamn deal once we push kara out, danny, but if you want i can turn right around and walk the other way without a single care in the world.”

“we? there’s no we here yet. you love to jump the gun that much?” brendan swings his bag back up onto his shoulder as if he’s about to head for the parking lot. “i’m scraping off of kara’s supply as a gesture of good faith. got it here and now as proof, if you’re interested and you’re not just going to blow smoke. fact is, i know you’d rather deal with me than her. if you’ve kept your ear to the ground you know i’m the one who set all this up. kara just gets to reap all the rewards because she’s the face and i’m the guy doing all the work. so either you at least test what i’m saying or i dust.”

danny’s face contorts. “dust, then.”

“sure,” brendan spits, and he turns on his heel. “your mistake. not mine.”

he gets four steps, counting them and already starting to reassess, when danny says, “kara’s cozying up to brad, isn’t she?” he stops at the corner. “here and there. why?” when he turns back, there’s a wild edge to danny’s expression, the rage of someone who’s been looking for a way to get back at everything that’s hurt him in recent months. brendan, asking why, knows precisely why. it’s what he’s been counting on this whole time. kara makes her own moves, yes, but sometimes they align with his just so, like a perfect spiral.

danny looks rattled. he looks downright uncomfortable, rocking back and forth, hands in his pockets.

“let me see it,” he says, “what you’ve got. i’ll test it. and i’ll come back if i think you’ve got something worth it.”

——

it takes a week before brendan gets a note in his locker, from kyle. when can i get more?

brendan tells him he’ll get him some more k in another week. they’ll meet on wednesday, after class. kyle’s already made an appointment with danny darview for some uppers on the very same wednesday. the appointment has to be moved by thirty minutes so that danny can meet someone after class.

kara leaves a note, too. what’s the play?

he slips a note back in her locker. he’s avoiding her. makes it look like they’re on the outs fully. soon. blue. blue, which is hold off, which is get out of my goddamn way and let me work, stop sticking your nose into it or else you’ll ruin it.

the brain falls in next to him in the hallway and says, “word is you and kara are really done for good this time.”

“almost.”

“‘almost’? didn’t know kara did almosts. she does absolutes.”

he smiles, brittle. “maybe i’m just that special, brain.”

“maybe you’re just that thick, to think you’re that special.”

“that too.”

they split at the entrance to school, their buses on the opposite ends of the yard.

——

on wednesday, brendan slides danny darview some bad k. it exchanges hands in the hallway, just as one of the teachers wanders past, stupid and blind to what’s gong on just underneath her nose. it’s just powder in a package, and it looks like any other k that might send you off to drift inside yourself, but it’d probably kill you once you took it.

he waits for an hour in the library.

then he walks around san clemente high school, to the back, hops the fence, and crosses the road to a pay phone. he plays his voice up just right, the nervous breathing, the stuttering of a civilian who’s paranoid but observant all at once. says he saw something suspicious exchanging hands in the parking lot of sunset collision. yeah, 223 calle pintoresco. yes. that’s exactly it. suspicious package. in fact, it’s been going on for a while, and it always seems to be in a hurry.

by the next morning, everyone knows danny darview’s in the pen for dealing. everyone’s frazzled, in their own little ways.

kara is waiting at his locker after school. the last performance of macbeth is tomorrow. any other day, she’d be at rehearsal. this is not today.

“what do you want?” he snaps, fully audible in front of the seething mass of the student body behind him. which is the point.

for once, kara looks genuinely shocked. “to talk,” she says.

his hand slams against the locker next to her head. “i think we’re well past talking,” he snarls, and he’s grinning a little at her at the same time, his head tucked close to hers, good humor at this point because there’s nothing else to do, because there’s so much about this that has worked out purely because he hates her and wants her out of his life.

and if that’s not comedy, then he doesn’t know what is.

as much as he dislikes kara, there are moments where they genuinely work together. and it’s like this - his hand a centimeter away from her head, his weight resting from that point the lockers behind her, her eyes glittering and dark for a moment, mouth almost curved in a smile before she chokes on a sob and pushes away from him, sliding out from between the heat of his body and the cool metal of the lockers. “you’re an asshole,,” she says, scrubbing at her eyes. “besides, you’re nothing without me.”

people are staring. good.

brendan keeps his weight on the locker, ducks his head down, stares at the number of the locker below his (439 drumming against the back of his skull), says nothing. silent, like he prefers.

kara’s voice rises in pitch by a few degrees. “aren’t you going to say something?” hysteria. anger. he can imagine the tears streaming down her face, ruining her makeup in front of the whole student body.

“what’s there to say?” he snaps, coolly mocking. “i thought you liked me talking less. lapdog, right? we all know what i’m any good for as far as you’re concerned.”

just like that, kara makes a disgusted noise and storms off. hallway’s so quiet despite it being passing period that he can hear the click of her heels as she storms off towards the theater. yeah, she has english, but she’s going to go sulk backstage because it’s what people would expect her to be doing.

in his mind’s eye, he can imagine the way she’s barely suppressing laughter.

he slams the door of his locker open, and everything launches back into motion. he scribbles a note on a scrap of notebook paper, bent over his locker, and slides it to the brain in the hallway. “kara’s locker,” he says, and the brain’s expression shifts.

“thought you were getting out from under her,” he says, curving along brendan’s path for a moment.

“i am,” he says. “just got to make sure all the right words are said.”

——

he’s not on call for the last performance of macbeth.

so, for once, brendan goes home for a few hours, busying himself with some work he’s neglected since this whole ordeal with danny has been taking up his time. he eats dinner with his mother, for once, and it’s almost like everything’s normal. brendan shows up on campus a half hour before the play’s over, and he sits under a tree and watches the sky. there’s too much light pollution out here to get a halfway decent look at the stars. it’s just a plane, every so often.

audience files out first. then actors. theater kids always have parties afterwards. he’s never gone to one, but he knows kara isn’t hosting this one, and playing lady macbeth would do a number on anyone, so it’s easy enough for her to bow out.

twenty minutes after the parking lot’s almost cleared, a lone figure strides out, her hair long and dark and hanging past her shoulderblades. brendan pushes himself upright and descends down into the parking lot, stepping easily over concrete curbs.

“my hero,” kara croons when they finally collide at her car, the midpoint of the parking lot.

“not really,” he says, just out of range of her claws.

she simpers. “i’m tired, brendan. i don’t want to fight. can’t we just be happy?”

“when hell freezes over, maybe.”

for a moment, she watches him, her expression inscrutable. “you meant it in the hallway, didn’t you?”

“yeah. i did.”

“so why’re you here? seems counterintuitive.” she pronounce every syllable of counterintuitive separately, prim and condescending.

“i’m going to tell you something,” he says. “you’ll have gotten half the school under your thumb by monday. but i’m not part of it. i’m not brad’s crowd, either. which means i see you for exactly what you are, and that’s why you’re not going to touch me after tonight’s done.”

“and how do you see me?” she almost sounds excited by the prospect of whatever he’s going to say.

“something shallow,” he says evenly, “and starving. good news for nothing, least of all me. sick. because the fact is you’d sell everyone for just a crumb of status. and it works for now, but it won’t work for the rest of your life. you’re going to end up alone, kara, and more importantly lonely, because you have to get your claws in someone to keep them and the only way you can do that is by shredding them to pieces. it’s enough for now. it won’t be forever.”

it’s hard to tell if it hurt her or not. “i didn’t know you were a philosopher, brendan.”

he shrugs. “mullen told me i should be a psych major at our last advising session. don’t know if i believe him, but i can see the path he took to get there.”

kara draws closer. he stands his ground. “you said you don’t want me touching you after tonight.” her fingers are mere centimeters away from his arm. “but tonight’s not over yet, is it?”

thought you were getting out from under her.

“no,” he says heavily, like this was inevitable, like they were always heading here no matter what direction they approached it from. “no, i guess it’s not.”

they fuck in the backseat of her car. it’s nicer than anything brendan’s family has ever owned, and he hates her for that too. it’s also uncomfortable, and that makes everything on the right-wrong edge of unbearable. kara’s nails drag down his back enough to hurt. he’s going to have marks later, no question about it. he bites along her throat, and it’s not even really about her. it’s about impact. it’s about pain and the fact that he knows that she could die tomorrow and he wouldn’t feel much of anything any more about the topic.

brendan leaves bruises along kara’s thighs in the shape of his fingers. she pulls on his hair hard enough to make his whole skull ache.

it occurs to him that this is maybe one of the only times she hasn’t just been putting on a performance across the whole time they’ve known each other.

——

in the backseat of her car, kara scrubs at some smeared mascara, peering into a compact. the light’s not much, but it’s apparently enough for her to get the job done.

brendan stares out the window. finally, he cracks the door open, and he’s got one foot in contact with the asphalt when kara speaks.

“that kostich girl,” kara says primly. brendan stops dead. he stares out at the parking lot, and he doesn’t look back, but she continues anyway. “i see the way you look at her i’ve always seen it. whatever you think you’re going to get from loving her, you know - it’s not going to work. she’s soft, brendan. brittle. you don’t love in a way she can handle. either she’ll leave you or you’ll break her, and i hope you don’t come crying back to me afterwards, because there’s going to be nothing to come back to if you keep walking away from me right now.”

“i won’t.”

“please,” she croons, sing-song again, condescending, “like you don’t ache, or hurt, or yearn? come on, baby. i know you do.” like she’s going to reach out and drag him back into the depths of his car.

the answer to her question is: not for her, he doesn’t. his other foot sets down on the asphalt. he slips his glasses out of his pocket and unfolds the arms, sliding them on. the world comes into focus. it feels like the first time in forever he’s seen like this. “see you around, kara.”

“oh, i hope you mean that. i’ll miss you.” if she had the table in the dressing room, she’d surely be resting her head on her hand, watching him in the mirror. watching an image of him, trying to read anything through it. instead, her compact audibly clicks shut. he can feel her eyes boring into his back.

he slides his hands in his pockets and fixes his gaze on the horizon. “no,” he says. “i don’t think you will. besides, i’ll be busy.”

“with what? you’ll be bored in a week.”

“maybe,” he agrees. “but i’ll take it over being stuck with you. bored is something i can deal with. you - you’ll just sink a knife in my back the second you figure out the best way to get it there.”

then he gets out of the car. he doesn’t shut the door behind him. let her have to slide across the seat and take care of that herself.

“i wouldn’t do that to you, brendan,” calls kara.

he turns back then, still walking backwards. steady pace away from her. that’s the best he can do with this situation. “that’s what you’d say right when you were sliding the knife in, kara. you can fool them. you can’t fool me.”

she doesn’t say anything else. all the right words, finally said. he swings back around and heads for the edge of the parking lot.

keep his head down. lunch near the portables, where no one else goes.

some quiet. sounds nice, he thinks. maybe he’ll get bored, like kara predicts, but that’s still something he can live with. if you’re alright with your thoughts, if you’ve made peace with them, then you won’t ever be lonely.

he’s working on that. one step, one foot in front of the other, just like this, now, a path carved through the san clemente night. like going home, after too many days away.

#013. WE WERE A PAIR AND A HALF { brendan & kara. }#016. TELL ME TO WALK AWAY { canons. }#this is so damn long no one's required to read it #like. honestly it's so long. i'm so sorry #also yes i expected to write this meta later so the number's off but i haven't had coffee yet and i do not Care

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tumblunni · 5 years

Text

Completely off the wall headcanon: his weird hairdo is actually antennae/tentacles

Cos srsly i know its meant to be a stylized version of that whole "show a guy is balding by adding 3 stray hairs on the top" cartoon trope but THEYRE LIKE THE SIZE OF HIS ARM! I dont know why but the concept of a single hair being as thick as a ponytail is scarier than anything else about this man, lol

So yeah THOUGHTS maybe he can wiggle them like octopus hands

Also since he's a doctor whose entire powers are doctoring, maybe they're some sort of enhanced sensory array that helps him diagnose the condition of patients? Like if u had 5 stethescopes hooked up directly to your brain and also they could sense lifeforce and scan everybody's battle stats.

Probably creeps people out a lot when he's like "ok just let me check ur pulse" *wiggles hair in your general direction*

So basically like theyre some bits of his brain that didnt have enough room in his skull and also are have superpowers. "Scienced so hard his head exploded" is pretty accurate to his backstory, yeah.

I figure he was already kind of a ridiculous genius at everything yokai back when he was human, but there was obviously a bit of a eureka point where his artificial yokai project got a lot easier as soon as he had firsthand experience and also superpowers. So "i need to surpass the limitations of this mortal flesh and have enough room in my damn head for all these Thoughts" was probably a Big Mood. I feel like "i cant stop these racing thoughts that feel like im gonna explode" was a frequent thing for him, i.e also being overwhelmed by worries about his family so much that he ended up neglecting them and just making everything get worse in an eternal spiral. And yeah yokai forms are shaped by the emotions of the person who died, so thats my justification for how "weird head worms" could be somehow in-character to this sad dad when he was human. "Itd be neat if i could just pull my emotions out and stomp them into the garbage", but the more scientifically accurate part where theyre, yknow, caused by brains and not literally hearts.

Also: consider adorable hair wiggles and floofs to show his emotions. Tfw u wear your heart on your sleeve quite literally now!

ALSO ALSO: consider him carrying his baby turtles in his hair and also a worlds best dad mug

ALSO ALSO ALSO: when he sleep and dream of him happy memories with he family, his hair sways like one of those dancing cactus toys.

Also also additional: *wiggles hair* "I CAN SMELL DR PEPPER SOMEWHERE IN THIS ROOM" *walks around like a dowsing machine*

Oh and possibly its a bit of a problem when he's doing an illusion of being human? I feel like itd be more fun if he had some limitations/weaknesses. I'm thinking he cant get rid of his big ol magic heart so he has to try and cover it up, but if he gets too overemotional it pops out of his chest and ruins the disguise. And possibly he also cant get rid of the hair tentacle things, tho they change to look like his different hairstyle. He tries to slick them down with hair gel to look all professional doctorman again but if you surprise him they'll pop up like those massive anime cowlicks! Maybe also has trouble getting both eyes to work after its been so long since he's had two of them? Or messes up other subtle bits of the illusion when he's distracted, like his nails seeming a little too sharp or his smile a little too wide, his skin looking clammy and off-colour, his labcoat suddenly ragged and then poofing back to normal as soon as you notice...

Ive started rambling entirely different headcanons now but lol u get the general idea

MADDIDETAILS

#dr maddiman #dr. maddiman

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evilsciencebros · 7 years

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Agathrights: This local bug literally lives in a box and Megatron lets it crawl around inside of him to do repairs, News At 10.

evilsciencebros: You made him 10x awesome in ways I never would have expected! I love your fountain of imagination. LMAO *snuggles up inside the warrior poet*

agatharights: I kinda had the vague idea of making him either a true minicon or an uplift a while ago so it was fun to finally flesh that out!Who doesn't want to crawl around inside of megatron. it'd be cozy

evilsciencebros: *huggles the swiss army knife* He's perfect *squishes down into pancake mode*

agatharights: He just squish down.The only problem with being an uplift is that -actual- scraplets will probably follow him if given the chance, because this scraplet is bigger and smarter so clearly it has more food!And i'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that a nonsapient swarm of dumb, hungry metallovores makes for poor company, unless you're in an autobot base in which case HEY NEW FRIENDS EAT EVERYTHING

evilsciencebros: The perfect drone army. They're not allowed in the Decepticon base

agatharightsyeah: probably a good idea to not bring those homeThey can't tell the difference between autobots and Decepticons and while Oil Slick is pretty unpalateable to everything (both Junkions and Unicronians refuse to eat him, which is impressive) everybody else...

evilsciencebros: Bless. He probably has a little hidey hole for them, so they don't go wondering off. Either that, or just kills/eats them, like Movie Scalpel did with that creepy worm thing that crawled through Sam's head. LOL. Everything keeps trying to eat Oil Slick and fails miserably XD

agatharights: I'd imagine so. Scalpel can probably eat virtually anything, if given enough time for his teensy tiny mouth, since he's still got a scraplet digestive system.

evilsciencebrosI: eat with his butt

agatharights: They had to remove most of the scraplet mouth/jaws though to make room for an actual brain.

evilsciencebros: Tiny brain. An Archive worth of knowledge. That's an impressive memory chip he's got

agatharights: Excellent quantum linkage with his spark for memory storage. Whatever company made him probably priced him pretty high- he would've been top-tier medical equipment at the time

evilsciencebros: ^w^ He is one of a kind

agatharights: "He is one of a kind" "Because everything else in his production line was disposed of when they became obsolete or were deemed too high-risk." you can even ask Optimus but like "What was Cybertron like?" "It was beautiful, and terrible."

evilsciencebros: it was beautiful...but at the same time, on fire

agatharights: Well, to be fair, on fire was more after Megatron finally started calming down and realized he maaaay have literally killed Primus and was like "Mm. Okay. I'll admit, I got a little out of hand.""Lets...lets just go find a new planet."

evilsciencebros: *sweeps the old planet under the rug.* Don't worry, we can still fix this

agatharights: And then he left Cybertron, a post-apocalyptic wasteland, and somehow by the time he got back Shockwave had made it worse and he was like how did you do this? When I left this was a heap of scrap that was on fire and full of electrical storms? WHY IS IT FULL OF ZOMBIES AND PREDACONS NOW? And Shockwave was like "i thought you were never coming back ever so I panicked"

agatharights: Shockwave is the master of "picked up necromancy as a hobby, made some mistakes"

evilsciencebros: This is what happens when you don't return people's phone calls. they join cults

agatharights: And if there's no cults to join, they make their own, and when you finally show back up they're like heyyyyyy...the good news is, Cybertron's not dead, the bad news is, neither are the Insecticons and now there's so many of them.

evilsciencebros: On the bright side there's a cool spider lady who keeps them in check...when she doesn't wanna eat you herself

agatharights: I dunno about that. Season Three of TF: Matrix is basically slotted to be "Blackarachnia is pissed Megatron ditched her on Cybertron, has been selectively breeding an army of insecticons and predacons to take it out on him" Megatron, and who can blame him, was like "Alright, we need to get everyone we can off the planet before the spacebridges go dark...but do i want to be stuck in a tube floating in space with a bunch of self-replicating cannibals? Do i really?"And then effectively gave the Insecticons/predacons the wrong time/place and took off without them and they've been salty about it for a few centuries

evilsciencebros: Megatron. Can't break up with someone to save his life. Instead changes his phone number and address, and pretends to be shocked when they finally run into each other years later.

agatharights: ...god I'm terrible because the first thing that pops into my head is "Clearly, he learned that from Orion"

agatharights: Since Orion basically ditched Megatron as soon as the Decepticons started getting too hot for him to handle and then Megatron didn't see him again until he was working with Sentinel Prime centuries later.And he was like " :) This is fine" And promptly murdered them both.

evilsciencebros: Cybertron. Died because of poor communication

agatharights: Pretty much.Which, to be fair, this problem didn't start with Megatron and Orion, this problem probably started the moment Prima was like "Guys, I know the thirteen of us are pretty happy, but what if we made a few billion more people?"

agatharights sent a GIF

evilsciencebros: I don't see any downsides to this.

agatharights: Downsides: Quintessons were like hey, uhhhh looks like you have...a lot of people there. Can we...borrow some??????"no piss off Quintessons"

agatharights: And then Unicron was like HEYYYYY LOOKS LIKE YOU HAVE A LOT OF PEOPLE THERE...CAN I DEVOUR EVERYTHING??? "NO PISS OFF UNICRON" (and then Nova Prime was like "Hey, what if institutionalized racism?" and instead of going "no piss off Nova" people were like "yeah okay" and that's Cybertronian history) The ghost of Solus Prime shaking her head like come on you guys I did not make all this shit that can literally cause miracles just so you could immediately start conquering and murdering things but she was dead so nobody listened to her

evilsciencebros: immortals need hobbies too. The only ones allowed to traumatise their OCs are them.

agatharights: "these are my OCs the entire Cybertronain race. original idea, do not steal." (and then the Quintessons, who created Primus and Unicron, were like WHOA PLAGARISM) Also oh no I realized the saddest thing that could happen to Scalpel

evilsciencebros: !!!!!

agatharights: Scalpel would've been an actual Scraplet, if very briefly (probably plucked right from a natural forge) before he was modified into a, well, a person, rather than a parasite. Which is all well and good, uplifts weren't uncommon for a long time, though they're very rare post-war

agatharights: But if he attacked Buster and Buster panicked there'd be a chance Buster's matrix abilities- including the ability to "repair" virtually anything Cybertronian given enough energy, would kick in- and Scalpel could be reverted into a Scraplet. It briefly happens to Ravage, but Ravage shares a spark with Soundwave- so Soundwave is able to re-activate his uplift status by restoring his spark (and Buster is very sorry like yeah okay the Decepticons have regularly tried to kidnap him as a power source but he didn't mean to hurt anyone!)But Scalpel being turned back into a Scraplet, even if it were temporary, sounds like a nightmare for him. Turned into a literally brainless creature (scraplets have no processors- their actions are directly connected to their spark rather than utilizing a processor)

evilsciencebros: ;-; poor baby

agatharights: He keeps biting Oil Slick and then being surprised and angry when Oil Slick tastes bad but he has no memory at the time. So he keeps trying bc Oil Slick carries him off to try and fix him ;-;

evilsciencebros: <3

agatharights: awwgh that's so sad i'm putting that in the "horrible things to potentially do to characters" folder

evilsciencebros: My boys. Looking out for each other ;3;

evilsciencebrosYou should feel bad! Poor Scalpel, reduced to something less than an animals, and poor Oil Slick trying to care for his little buddy.

agatharights: Someone on the team suggests that they should put Scalpel out of his misery, that they don't want to risk him eating someone and producing more scraplets, and Oil Slick gets so angry about it he has to leave for a lil bit, just to clear his head before he does something stupid like drop a white phosphorous grenade on them)He'd have to get fixed, eventually, but until then Oil Slick can keep him in a box and feed him scraps

evilsciencebros: OMG I hope he gets better one day! Poor Oil Slick trying, and failing, to bring Scalpel back, but unwilling to snuff out his little spark.He will murder that human boy >:/

agatharights: jskdlfaj if he confronted Buster the poor kid would be like ???!!! Because he'd have no idea what he'd done, and once he knew he'd freak out and start bawling because he didn't mean to! He's so sorry! He can fix it- he can, he can try, at least? "I don't want to hurt anyone! Please, just lemme try to fix it..."

evilsciencebros: He is very fortunate that Oil Slick is desperate and revenge can wait.Now stop pouring lubricant out of your optics and do your work weird god magic shit.

agatharights: akfdljsaf poor babies. At least Buster can probably undo it. Might take a bit, though, and a lot of energy. he'd konk right out afterwards, and Scalpel just re-grew an entire brain so he's very tired too.

#agatharights #[chat]#I am going to bed at some point tonight #I just wanted this on my dash #I love it all and I want to do so much with these ideas #it's not fair one woman has so many incredible ideas for such a minor character #;long post

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