#and the doctor doesn’t even really fucking believe him that the drums are real until the master makes him listen……. oh im going to be ill.

[quietwingsinthesky]

you ever just think about. “You are diseased, albeit a disease of our own making. No more.” you ever just. oh, they made him and they discarded him. it’s never going to be quiet again for him, and that’s just collateral. they let the sound rot through his whole life, his whole timeline. because that’s the kind of easy sacrifice you can make when you want to save yourself above everything else, one that doesn’t ask anything of you. you dig open a child’s mind and you bury your survival inside him and when he follows the noise back home, when he does exactly what you groomed him for, you call him ruined for it. that’s. you ever just think about that.

#it’s genuinely such a horrifying sixkening thing that they unveil. what was done to the master. #and it’s like. it’s so important that he is awful. he really is. but he still does not deserve to have had this done to him. #the drums are a tragedy that cannot. would not. be a punishment earned no matter how terrible he is. #they’re such a violation of his mind. isolating and constant and violent. and it drives me insane that this is just. in the show. okay cool #ill never be normal again. #they literally pulled his head open. during a ceremony that we. as far as i know. have to assume is not exactly voluntary. and is at the #best of times. already traumatic and horrifying. but they went into that moment and they put the drums in his head and they made him into #something repulsive to them. because they did that to him! in this thing alone the master had no agency and no way out and this thing that #was done *to* him is what makes him. to them. a broken thing now past its usefulness now that he’s done what they wanted him to. #sorry im rotating him in my head again and again. this is the thing that makes him ‘diseased’. it’s that they chose to do this to him. there #is nothing he could do to not be this. he was a child and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. he’s an adult and he’s #doing the impossible exactly like they shaped him to do and he can’t stop this from having happened to him. so he might as well follow the #drums. and then. and then rassilon calls him diseased. and im going to. lose it. #there was nothing he could have done………….. #everywhere else he has choices to make and he can burn the world and keep it as a toy and he can fuck with the doctor and he can do. #anything. anything he wants. but he can’t. there’s nothing he can do to make it stop. there’s nothing he can do to make it so this never #happened to him. and i am spinning in circles here do u see why he makes me insane. #and the doctor doesn’t even really fucking believe him that the drums are real until the master makes him listen……. oh im going to be ill. #doctor who #simm!master #the master

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 3

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Winter soldiers on, the cold and occasional snow giving way to the promise of spring. Her birthday comes and goes, celebrated at her mother’s with her family as it had been before there was someone else to lay claim to her time on special days. The vacant spaces in her apartment that had been occupied by Ethan’s books and clothes, his toiletries, and VHS collection, begin to be filled by evidence of her new, single life. Her solitary toothbrush in the cup by the sink starts to look normal, the indent on her finger where his ring lived begins to fade, and the silence she arrives home to at the end of her workday becomes mundane instead of painful. Though this change was initiated and welcomed by her, change is always hard. She goes through the motions of being okay until one day in early April, she realizes that she is. The budding crocuses bring with them the optimism of a new life, another chance. A third chance, as it were, to get it right. Now she only has to figure out what right is.

Though they’ve always been close, she and Missy become even closer, taking up the space in each other’s lives that would otherwise be consumed by boyfriends or lovers. They are each other’s better half, sharing the minutiae of their workdays and staying available for unexpected illness or the need to move heavy furniture. While every human needs other humans to thrive, the Scully sisters fill that need with each other, shunning the idea of casual dating simply for the sake of companionship. There is no companion more perfect than the one who has known you since before you could understand the need for such a partner in life, and who is by your side not out of obligation, but because their soul is stitched so firmly to your own. They have always pledged their dedication to each other through thick and thin, and the new year of 1997 proves that to be a sincere promise on both their parts.

As such, they sit at their favorite local coffee shop on Sunday afternoon when Missy finally dares to ask her sister the question she’s avoided for the past four months. Not because she was afraid of her reaction, but because she knew Dana wasn’t ready to talk about it.

“Have you heard from Mulder at all?” she asks so casually that Dana flicks her eyes up and stares in disbelief, not sure that she heard her right.

“What?” Dana asks, her heart having lept for one single beat at the mention of his name.

“Mulder. Have you had any contact with him, or seen him?” Missy is misleadingly casual, acting as though this is not a question she’s been waiting months to ask.

“No,” Dana says flatly, her eyes dropping down to her coffee cup. “I wouldn’t expect to.”

“Does he know that you and Ethan split?” Missy asks next, her feet folded underneath her in the oversized armchair.

“I don’t see how he would,” Dana posits.

“Have you considered reaching out to him?” Missy tries, watching her sister for signs that she is going to shut the conversation down.

Dana shakes her head glumly. “After what I put him through, I’m sure I’m the last person he wants to hear from. That was nearly nine months ago, he’s probably long since moved on.”

“Have you? Moved on?”

Dana pulls in a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I don’t know how to answer that. What does it mean, to move on?”

“Do you still think about him?” No assertions, just gentle questions, leading her sister to the conclusion she knows she needs to come to.

Dana nods softly. “All the time. Every day.”

“Then I think your answer would be no. You should contact him, Dana. It feels like unfinished business.” Missy has a thing about unfinished business. She believes it prevents you from achieving your full potential in life.

“Missy...what would I even say? ‘Sorry I broke your heart, good news is it didn’t even work out so it was all for nothing’? I don’t want to cause him more pain than I already have.” Her tone is resigned and defeated. Another regret she will come to live with, pinned to her lapel with a collection of other mistakes that she can never quite atone for.

Missy shrugs. “You know what I think. The rest is up to you.”

Missy is right. The trouble is, she doesn't trust herself to make these decisions anymore. She’s proven to herself that she doesn’t know how to make the right one.

———

“Excuse me,” a rough, nasally voice calls from behind her. She turns to see a red nosed young man in the doorway of the pathologist’s office, slumped against the doorframe with watery eyes. “I’m here to pick up an autopsy report, for, um...I think it’s Richards or something.”

Scully has worked with this courier before, and compared to his typical demeanor it’s easy to tell that he’s unwell.

“Are you alright?” she asks as she uses her feet to push her rolling chair over to the file cabinet, retrieving the report in question.

“Uh, not really, no. But if I call out sick one more time I’m gonna get canned.” He leans his head against the cool metal of the doorframe. She suspects he’s feverish.

“You don’t look well enough to work. Where is this headed?” she asks, still holding the file in her hand.

The young man blows out a stream of air and she holds her breath for a moment, not wanting to inhale whatever he’s infected with. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket. “Hoover Building, Behavioral Science Unit. Agent Kissop.” He stuffs the paper back in his pocket and looks around, taking refuge in the extra chair near the end of her desk.

She feels a little flutter in her belly; what are the odds?

“I’ll tell you what,” she begins, “I was just about to head out for the day and I live in Georgetown, so I’m going that way anyway. Can I drop this off for you? You don’t look well enough to drive and I’d hate to see you on the news in the morning if you cause an accident.”

He sighs deeply, the biggest display of excitement he can muster. “Are you sure? I’d really appreciate it,” he says, his eyelids barely maintaining half-mast.

“No problem at all,” she replies, gathering her coat and purse. “You get home and take some Tylenol, okay? And get some rest.”

He nods weakly and she leaves him there, climbing into her car with the file and a pounding heart. She can’t help but feel like this is a sign. She’s been thinking about signs a lot lately, and she’s recently resolved to start paying attention to them.

———

Mulder stands beside the copy machine, doing his Wednesday afternoon ritual of fighting with the toner cartridge and cursing profusely. From around the corner, he can hear AD Kirkbride drumming up his own song of profanity, which is more of a daily ritual than a weekly one.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kirkbride is shouting. “Now that dipshit is conning goddamn doctors into doing his pathetic job?”

Another much softer voice answers him, but Mulder can’t quite make out the words. He moves closer to the open door, bored enough to bother eavesdropping and seeing which of his colleagues is going to get their ass handed to them today.

“Yeah, I’m sure he is sick, that fucking lowlife. He’s sick every fucking week, it’s always something with him!”

“Sir, I don’t know what the history is between you and the courier,” answers the other voice, and it’s familiar in a way that makes him stop in his tracks, his stomach clutching in a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Can you direct me to Agent Kissop, please? Then I’ll be on my way and you can work it out with the courier service.”

It’s Scully. It’s her, he’s sure. He’s been dreaming of that voice for months, the soft sibilant S’s and the way her plush lips rest against her adorable overbite. Without thinking, he enters Kirkbride’s office and sees her standing in front of his desk with a file in her hand and an exasperated look on her face.

“Scully?” he asks, and she turns to him. Her hair is a bit longer, now just past her shoulders, and she’s wearing black slacks and a white blouse. She’s as beautiful as ever, maybe even more than he remembered. She doesn’t look all that surprised to see him. If anything, she looks relieved. Emotion boils up in his chest immediately and he feels his throat constrict.

“You know her?” Kirkbride asks, gesturing to Scully, and Mulder nods. “Great, then show her where Kissop sits so I can call the fucking courier service and tell them to fire that lazy asshat before I strangle him.”

Scully walks towards him and he turns wordlessly to show her out of Kirkbride’s office and down the hall to where Kissop sits. His heart is beating slowly but firmly, his pulse resounding in his ears. What is she doing here? Did she come here to see him? And if so, why? When they arrive at Kissop’s desk, Scully hands her the file and they exchange words that Mulder doesn’t bother to listen to. Then Scully looks at him hesitantly and slowly turns to walk away, towards the exit. He feels suspended, unsure if he can believe his own eyes that she is really here, and entirely conflicted over what to do about it if she is. He’s spent nine months trying to forget her, but she’s as real and alive as ever, standing before him. His self-protective instinct says to let her go, but his heart says to run after her.

“Quit standing here like a dumbass and go talk to her,” Kissop orders him, clearly picking up on some tension though she doesn’t have the faintest idea what’s causing it.

Shaken from his daze, Mulder follows Scully into the hallway.

“Scully,” he calls out, and she stops walking but doesn’t turn around. When he catches up to her, he touches her shoulder and she turns to face him with wet eyes.

They stand there for a moment, looking at one another, an expectant feeling hanging over them. He wants to touch her, to feel the press of her body against his again, but he doesn’t dare. That would seem like a relapse, of sorts.

“Would you have coffee with me?” she finally speaks, her voice small and unsure. It’s an invitation she is not at all confident he will accept.

“Okay,” he answers, and they walk out of the building side by side, silently.

They seem to understand without saying so that Mulder will lead them to where they ought to go, which is a little cafe called Burial Grounds just a block from the front doors of the Hoover Building. They stand in line stoically, tension crackling between them like static as they order something that will occupy their hands and give them a safe place to avert their eyes while they talk. They sit at a small table near the door and wait, glimpsing at each other’s faces and then away, summoning courage. Because this was at Scully’s invitation, it seems like she should have the floor.

“Ethan and I aren’t together anymore,” she finally blurts out, and his first instinct is to look at her hand, which is indeed bare of any jewelry. Next he looks at her face, considering her expression and whether she takes this to be good news or bad. She looks pained, but not about what she’s just said. She’s had this look on her face since he first spotted her in Kirkbride’s office. He’s unsure if he should be offering congratulations or condolences, and irritated that he’s being put in the position to figure it out, so he says nothing.

“I’m sure that I’m just about the last person you want to see,” she continues, her ocean irises tracing the logo printed on her cup. It wasn’t a question, but if it were he’d tell her that she’s the only person he wants to see, the only one he ever thinks about. The reason he can’t sleep and, when he does, the only thing he dreams about. “If it’s okay, there are some things I’d like to say to you. I understand if you don’t want to hear them.”

She flicks her eyes up to meet his for a moment and he nods softly, keeping his expression neutral. She returns her gaze to the skull and crossbones bearing the name of the coffee shop.

“I have always believed that life is about making the right choices. That we are presented with an ongoing series of options, opportunities and situations, and that we are tasked with determining the right choice that will put us on the path towards the best possible life. But as of late,” she pauses to take a sip of her coffee, stealing a glance at him before she continues, “I’ve come to believe that there is actually only one choice. One path we’re supposed to be on, and there are signs along the way to pay attention to. The choices might not always make sense at the time, but in the grand scheme of things, they are the ones you need to make in order to have the best possible life. Or the right life, the one you’re supposed to have.”

She pauses and slides her hand across the table, covering his with her own. The soft warmth of her skin electrifies him a little, sending a flush to his belly. She brings her eyes up to meet his, her brows knit with emotion as her chin gently puckers. She’s so beautiful it physically hurts.

“I ignored the signs,” she says tightly. “I made the wrong choice, Mulder. I thought I was doing the right thing, the best thing, but I was wrong. I’m so sorry that I hurt you.”

He feels his chest tighten, a telltale precursor to tears, and he looks away from her. Why is she doing this? To make herself feel better? She pulls her hand back and sniffs, then stands and slings her purse over her shoulder.

“Thank you for having coffee with me,” she says, and then he watches her leave. He sits there, staring at the pink lipstick that stains the rim of her cup, wishing she’d given him some more time to absorb it all. Wishing she’d never made the wrong choice.

#the x files #txf #dana scully #fox mulder #gillovny #msr #sculder #x files #x files fanfic #alternate universe

[mysaldate]

But can y’all imagine...

How very different KnY would be if told from another character’s perspective? Take literally any demon and suddenly the Demon Slayer Corps are painted in whole different light! In other words, I’m really bitter about the fandom and its hatred against the demons in general or just a few specific characters.

(long post, manga spoilers ahead)

With Muzan, it’s a story of a weak boy who just wanted to have a stronger body and then this shady doctor made him incapable of walking in the sun and forced him to eat human flesh? Like?? That fucks you up man. And then he learns how much of a curse immortality is and starts yearning for companions so he starts making them. His own family had forsaken him for something that initially wasn’t even his fault and now they started hunting down his fellow immortals. And what’s more, they act like they’re in the right!

Let’s take the hand demon from the final selection now, shall we? A little scaredy boy who got turned into a demon and ended up killing his brother without even fully realizing what he had done. Soon after, he was captured by this weird man in a mask and thrown in what is essentially a gladiator arena with dozens of people swarming in to kill him every once in a while. He fights his way through, eventually getting stronger and stronger. Eventually, he falls victim to one of the pupils of the man who captured him.

We’re just making a quick stop at Kyougai here before moving on to the moons. And boy did he deserve better! Kyougai has lived his whole life constantly being told what he was bad at. His writings is called trash, his passion for drumming is looked down upon, he has nobody to love him... There’s a lot more to him than just a frustrated bad guy. He cries when, for the first time in his life, someone gives mild appreciation to something he does. Sadly enough, that only happens on his deathbed.

Rui’s backstory was partially shown but imagine if he were the main focus! A boy so weak he could barely walk, suddenly offered the chance to become stronger. And much like in Muzan’s case, it backfired. This was even more enforced by the fact that his own parents tried to kill him! Then he met with the guy who turned him into this thing in the first place and slowly, he forgot all about his family. Loneliness grasping his childish heart, he eventually starts gathering other demons to create a family to feel those bonds again. He has no idea how families should work so he does it in the only way he can think of. But nobody else likes this. Imagine the betrayal he feels when one of his sisters tries to run away from him! And then he almost dies by the hands of someone who has what he had always craved without doing anything for it (at least from his pov). And by the very end, when he is finally reunited with his parents, when he finally felt the genuine love again, he got sent straight to hell for doing what he had to to survive, without being shown a speck of mercy by his killer.

We don’t know anything about Enmu’s backstory (movie, I’m counting on you!) but even with the little we know, a lot can be worked out. Enmu is loyal to a fault, overall pretty smart, he likes giving people happy dreams. He really just wants to please his master and yet, he’s not even given the small victory of killing a kid.

Or what about Daki and Gyuutarou? Again, we got their backstory but if that was the main focus? We’d get to see so so much more of the abuse they went through, of the hard work Gyuutarou put in for the sake of his sister, how he tried to protect her and make her stand up for herself, how he made sure she knew her worth and didn’t become a prostitute at a young age, how he cherished her and how much she relied on him. When she was getting burnt, did she call out his name hoping he would come and save her? Did she apologize for dying on him? Or Gyuutarou, how did he feel when he found her there? For how long afterwards had he blamed himself? He never let go of those feelings. And then around came a charming stranger and offered them both to live on, even as a single being so they could be even closer! Daki got a position so she didn’t have to do any degradative work ever again, Gyuutarou could protect her way better! They were attacked times and times again by the demon slayers and there were probably many tense moments and yet, they made it out, growing ever stronger together as a team... only to be eventually bested by a half-baked demon, a bunch of children and a very self-centered guy who took himself three wives.

Then we have Gyokko, an unfortunate artist who was most likely never appreciated, no matter how hard he tried. His art was dismissed as broken, imperfect, lacking in talent. And what’s worse, he may have had those feelings too. He knew he didn’t have very good focus, he probably couldn’t give his work as much work as he would’ve liked. After he obtained the capability of increasing his speed enough to nulify this deficit, he also came face to face with many people, many slayers, many pillars even, some of them who mastered the full-focus breathing technique and used it like it was nothing. How did that make him feel? And eventually he died facing someone who had all the focus he ever wanted, with his art and his own form insulted by a mere child.

Hantengu is not talked about nearly enough but can you imagine how he would tell the story? An almost blind beggar, constantly being pushed around because of his poor looks (something he could hardly change), thrown out of everywhere (kind of his fault since he was a thief but if it was his story, we’d get full reasoning), people refused to even talk with him in the end. Finally, he meets someone who gives him power and lets him be stronger so he doesn’t have to beg for everything. He’s still so very scared of everything though and he ends up doing his scary master’s bidding and gets killed by a bunch of violent screaming kids who insult him in every possible way without ever trying to look at things from his side.

Now we come to Akaza. Now here we got a lot of backstory so I’ll just skim over it real quick. In order to help his sick father, this good son stole money for the medicine and constantly got beaten up by the officials, simply because he wanted to help. His father died because he thought he was being a burden. Or, from Akaza’s point of view, his father died because he was too weak not to get caught. Can you imagine the shame? The pain? He eventually got taken in by a kind master, fell in love with a sweet girl and was supposed to marry her. And then his whole world suddenly crumbled down again. Everyone he cared about died and he couldn’t help them. Can you imagine how much he beat himself up over it? He became a demon but even after that, he would never eat girls. He just wouldn’t, it was too much for him. And yet, he managed to grow stronger. His end actually wasn’t all that tragic as he met up again with his wife, though both of them ended up burning in hell yet again.

Now we’re getting to Douma, and this one I’ll have lots of fun with. So this story is again about a little boy. This time, he’s not weak. This time, he’s not petty. He’s beautiful and everyone loves him. A lot. Too much even. He has no relationship with his parents because they don’t treat him like a human, they treat him like a medium. Everyone does. He can’t go outside to play with his peers, he’s stuck inside the temple, listening to people complaining about their miserable lives. That’s literally his entire life. Just frustration upon frustration upon frustration. Slowly, he starts going numb towards all of this. When something repeats for too long, a person will stop reacting naturally. That leads him to believe he’s emotionless. His father cheats on his mother constantly with other women from the cult, the bitterness grows with every day. Until one day, she snaps and kills him and then herself. But because Douma has no relationship with them and because of how much pain was already pushed onto him from others, he doesn’t have a reaction. He knows he can’t really help anyone. He doesn’t have that kind of power. So when the opportunity offers itself, he jumps after it. Since he’s numb to pain, he thinks, he is always happy. And he’s immortal now. So everyone he consumes can be just the same for sure! Later on, he meets Gyuutarou, a pitiful man clinging to his dying sister. And what does he do? He helps them out. And he takes responsibility for them later on as well. He strives to become strong, he strives to get along with everyone. Just the sheer amount of times he tries to spend time with someone only to be shut down shows a lot about how lonely he actually feels, even if he doesn’t call it that way. When Kotoha comes to the temple, he accepts her even with a child and if there’s one thing you can clearly see in his expression whenever he looks at her, it’s the warm, soft feeling of genuine affection, if not down-right love. Her refusing to let him explain why he does what he does and running off after insulting him? That had to hurt terribly. And she even threw her own baby off a cliff rather than to let him take care of the boy. The demon hunters coming to kill him? They want to ruin everything he tried so hard to keep together. He kills them and grants them the happiness he brings to his followers whenever he has enough time to do it. He dies at the hands of a spiteful woman who doesn’t know anything about him and is blinded by hatred and rage, a little girl who insults his feelings towards his friends while not really having any right to speak (her own emotions are way more broken than his and, arguably, for pettier reasons) and the child who’s mother he sheltered and who threw him aside.

That was long but we finally got to Kokushibou! Now, here it gets shorter again because, come on, chapter 177 gave us such a good POV on him! Though if the whole story was from his perspective, we’d deffinitelly get so much more! The utter sense of betrayal when his father after years of his hard work decided to abandon him as an heir, the overwhelming desire to at least match his brother, to at least be on equal grounds with him and then the crushing defeat when he realized he could never be like him, his lifespawn was running thin and his brother would probably surpass him even in that. He became a demon for the sole purpose of besting his brother and yet, he was never able to. As an unfulfilled revenge, his brother died before Kokushibou could strike him down. And now fast-forward some time and he’s stuck babysitting supposedly some of the strongest demons except they constantly bicker about petty things, can’t respect authority or in some cases get scared so easily he has to wonder how did they get there in the first place. His own descendant tries to kill him and refuses his offer to join Muzan’s side. And he dies because of a moment of weakness, bested once again, never to live to see the day when he would truly be the most powerful swordsman like was his life-long dream.

Or let’s take a look at Kaigaku. Working his ass off his whole life only to be constantly compared to a weak coward like Zenitsu who couldn’t even show their elder any proper respect. He couldn’t manage to master the first breath of thunder technique no matter how hard he tried and that alone was the reason why his teacher didn’t see him as any better than Zenitsu – someone who never learnt more than one technique! He was finally somewhat appreciated by Kokushibou. That was literally the first person ever to see him as a strong opponent. A demon who originally came to kill him. And he died by the hands of that very same weakling who was the cause of his troubles his whole life.

I could go on and talk about Tamayo, Yushiro, Susamaru, Yahaba, the swamp demon trio, Nakime... I’ll save these for when Nakime’s backstory is revealed and possibly when we get more details on Tamayo and Yushiro. There should also be the replacement upper moon five so let’s wait for that guy.

Side note: I’m purposedly emitting Nezuko since 1) she’s not a standard demon in the series and 2) she’s one of the main protagonists so we already see the story from her perspective about as much as we see it from Tanjiro’s.

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kimetsu anime #kimetsu manga #kimetsu no yaiba spoiler #kimetsu no yaiba muzan #demon slayer muzan #muzan kibutsuji #kyougai #demon slayer kyougai #demon slayer rui #enmu #enmu tami #kny enmu #kny rui #kny spoilers #kny muzan #kny kyougai #kny daki #kny gyuutarou #kny gyokko #kny hantengu #kny akaza #akaza #kny douma #demon slayer douma #kny kokushibou #demon slayer kokushibou #kny kaigaku #demon slayer kaigaku

[rosesvioletshardy]

life as we know it - b.h. chapter 8

a/n: i’m posting today because i needed some sort of mental break form everything happening. i was about to go to a blm protest yesterday in my city until i heard what was happening and before it escalated too far and people were running for safety. i’ve been signing petitions and donating as much as i could non-stop and it really got to me. really hope you guys like this chapter

black lives matter

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to ben and y/n to take care of their goddaughter and face the challenges that come with it

# of words: 3,557

warnings: reader being a dick at one point, FLUFF, panic attack

not edited so i apologize for any mistakes

taglist: @myfatbottomedgirls, @evemarie05, @suckerfor-fanfics

--

(my gif below, please credit if using)

july

a couple of months have passed and  ben and y/n have managed to do everything their way and the way christian and lennon would’ve wanted them to. they had both seen therapists to truly get in touch with the situation and there was no more freaking out and ever since the fiasco about them “dating” and charlie being *their* daughter. sean on the other hand needed his plan to go quick before she understood her real feelings and how she truly felt and broke up with him. a lot of people didn’t believe that what they were saying was true and would rather believe a gossip site rather than the true source itself because they’d think it would be a good way to promote more self image and business. 

when it came out, sean was furious. she knew it would happen and tried to call him to explain the situation that they weren’t together and charlie wasn’t their daughter but he knew that. he wanted her to feel guilty  

flashback

“did you see the news?” he asked 

“yeah listen, ben already talked to his publicist about it and the daily mail is going to post another article about it’s not true, he’s not my boyfriend and charlie is our biological daughter.”

“he better. i swear to god he ruins everything.” he told her gritting his teeth, and grabbing her wrists and throwing them away 

“no he doesn’t.”

“yes he does, but i need to keep making sure he doesn’t touch you in any way possible okay? you’re mine only.”

“i’m yours only.” she told him tears creeping up in her eyes

flashback over

there were some ups and downs like recently charlie decided she needed to go number 2 while they were giving her a bath that turned into a doctor’s visit the next day

“she still has soap on her head.” she told ben 

“yeah i can see” he said as he moved the shower head and covered charlie’s eyes as she played with the rubber duck

before ben could cover her eyes, she saw charlie do her poop face

“she’s making her poop face” y/n voiced

“What?”

“her poop face! that’s the face she makes when she needs to go. she’s going to poop in the tub” she yelled picking charlie up to take her to the toilet

ben started to freak out as he moved out of the way to take the lock off of the toilet that was installed

“hurry up! she’s going to do it any minute!” “‘m trying! i don’t remember how i opened these!” ben panicked

“she’s going to poop on me. here let me try” she panicked giving charlie to ben

y/n then began to struggle like ben did and kept trying to pull the latch before doing the unthinkable and taking ben’s beanie and holding it under the baby

“no, no, no MY HAT! oh my god that’s my hat” 

“i’m so sorry. i’ll buy you a new one. i promise.” she giggled

“oh it’s funny. yeah, laugh it off. that’s real funny” ben said starting to laugh along

“wait what is that?”

“what?” 

“that lump on her stomach”

“‘t’s her belly button. she’s an outie.” ben told her

“No, that was not there yesterday when i changed her.” she told him

“okay. we’ll make a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. let’s just get her cleaned up and ready for bed.”

that was all on her mind throughout the night and before the appointment. she had taken charlie on her break so ben can have some alone time for a while seeing that he’s been busy and wants one day without hearing the wiggles music all day.

here she was, holding charlie and pacing back and forth talking to tyler about an event

“we can’t afford to be snobby. it’s our biggest event. just bring out all the most popular foods, you know? anything that’s sweet and could be counted as finger-food.” she told him before the doctor came in

“sorry to keep you waiting. my mother wouldn’t hang up.” the doctor said

“that’s fine. i know the feeling sometimes”

“so you are charlie’s new guardian, is that correct?” dr. smith asked looking at charlie’s chart

“yes that is correct.”

“i’m really sorry about what happened to her parents and your friends” he said as he gestured for her to sit charlie on the table

“thank you.”

“okay. now, how is she doing? is she sleeping okay? regular bowel movements”

“well not at first but now it’s very regular. but she has this protrusion on her stomach and i don’t know what it is. i don’t know anything about kids. lennon was the first one of my friends to have a baby and she was amazing with charlie. she would be the first person i would call about this. i-i mean, she was the first person i called about everything. and it hurts that i can’t call her and i’d really like to tell her “oh my god what the hell were you thinking? I mean you could’ve left me with your pearls or the YSL clutch. this is just a little too much and hard. i don’t even know what i’m doing even with the help.” oh god i’m ranting. i’m so sorry.” y/n said taking a deep breath

“it’s fine. a lot of parents do that, especially first time parents. so, charlie’s got an umbilical hernia. it’s nothing to be worried about, they mostly go away on their own, but we’ll keep watching it.” dr. smith told her taking out his prescription pad and began to write

“wait, you said it goes away on its own.”

“this is for you.” he finished writing down and giving it to her

she took the paper and began to read it out loud

“one bottle of pinot noir, one to two glasses as needed.”

“or white, same dosage though. look, you and whoever is with you are doing is pretty incredible. but don’t forget to give yourselves a break every now and then. Okay? So i’ll have the nurse set you up in a week? bye charlie, you’re going to be okay. it was nice to meet you.” dr. smith told her shaking her hand

“you too, and thank you.”

y/n left the building with charlie in her stroller and they began their journey back home. on the way, they ended up seeing sean but he wasn’t alone. at first she thought “maybe it’s just a co-worker of his out for lunch or maybe just an old friend.” but then she saw what she thought was the worst thing ever. he was cheating on her. she didn’t know what to feel other than betrayed and she hadn’t felt like this in a way since she found out about the death. wiping the lone tear away, she walked away and straight home and wondered how long it had been going on or if ben knew.

when she got home, she was met with what seemed like drumming. taking charlie out of her stroller and down for a nap, she walked into the family room to find ben sitting at a drum set and looking at music sheets. 

“what the fuck benjamin. what is this?!” y/n exclaimed

“well, as you can see, it is a drum set. they are usually used by drummers for band and are set up in the ba-” ben tried to explain in a sarcastic tone before getting cut off

“i know what a drum is. i mean what is it doing in the room? why do you even have it?” 

“this new role i got involves drumming and i said i could play so here we are now.” 

“but you can’t play.”

“exactly that’s why i’m practicing. why does it look like you were crying?” he asked curiously after seeing her puffy eyes

“um no reason. what is the role that you need to learn drumming so badly?” 

“okay. do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“yeah i promise”

“this is really private and it hasn’t been announced yet so do you really prom-” “yes, ben i fucking promise. Jesus”

“fine. geez. i’m going to be playing roger taylor in the queen biopic” ben told her really excited

this caused her to laugh and she couldn’t understand why. she didn’t mean to be rude it just sort of happened.

“i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to laugh. i just couldn’t get the thought of you playing one of my childhood crushes. oh my. how long have you managed to keep this from me?” 

“can you please leave me alone now? i don’t have that much time to learn a shit ton of songs. and i went to the meeting about it a couple of  months ago, remember when i left in the middle of dinner? then i started lessons after i got the part and somehow managed to pull off one song so far.” ben told her fixing one of the cymbals

that’s why ben was constantly gone for a while and they had to ask charlie’s babysitter because she couldn’t take care of charlie and go to work at the same time

“now can i leave for practice? i can’t believe i’m telling you this, but we shoot the live aid scene soon and joe, rami, and gwilym are still trying to get to know one another?” ben asked

“yeah, sure.” she said before continuing

“why don’t you invite them over? i can make dinner for all of you.” 

“are you sure about that? wouldn’t it be too much?” 

“no, it’s completely fine. have you forgotten how many places i’ve catered? or how many people i serve for a day when i work? it’s practically my specialty.” 

“fine. but you better not tell anything embarrassing that’s happened to us so far.” ben warned

“ooo i’m so scared” y/n exclaimed in a teasing way

“watch it.” ben warned pointing at her with a drumstick

“fine.”

after their exchange, y/n began to look around the kit as ben got ready to leave. walking into the kitchen she began dinner for later in the night and made something that ben could easily heat up later.

“alright, i’m leaving. bye charlie girl.” ben said giving charlie a kiss on her head as she continued to sleep

hours passed and it was now around 8 in the evening and y/n took the doctor's advice and decided to drink some pinot noir. for some reason she managed to handle her alcohol this time and not send anything risky. ben walked in the house to find her giggling as she had managed to drink a little more than usual.

“BEN! oh my god. thank god you’re here. have i told you how much of a great dad you’ll be? i mean i really hate you but you’re like a great dad or “dad” with charlie i guess but still. i’m literally going to be so jealous of whoever gets to have your kids. oh my god i feel so good! but there is one thing i’ve realized the whole time she has been asleep and it’s that i’m never going to take a great bath in this house. this is a shower house. why does it always look like you never brush your hair? that must save a lot of time.” she told him

“how’s that wine treating you? you not going to send anyone anything?”

“no. my phone is in the kitchen so i wouldn’t touch it while i drink. oh. did you want some? because i can definitely share.”  

“nah i’m good.”

“maybe it’s because you don’t worry as much. that’s what lennon told me when they set us up. she said “honey, you just got your ass dumped by your boyfriend of two years and cheated on you, you need a good time.” then you showed up! your charming self shows up at my door and it’s a total asshole at the door. and now i’m about to raise a kid with said asshole.” 

ben didn’t know what to feel but hurt. he really thought that she would come around but clearly she didn’t

“oh god i’m going to regret this huh? i shouldn’t have poured my feelings out to that doctor and just listened to the therapist instead.” she said putting the glass down

“come on. off to bed, i think you’ve had enough.”

“i’ve had so many things thought of that i wanted to say but i can’t remember them” 

“‘kay so you’re a horny drunk and a belligerent drunk? That’ll be a fun next 18 years:” ben told her as they started to walk up the stairs

“i’m a fun drunk too. it just depends on what i drink.” she said as they heard the doorbell ring

ben went to the door to see who it was thinking it was one of their neighbors asking for something but it wasn’t

“Hi”

“hi. i’m janine williams. your caseworker from social services?” the woman said shaking ben's hand as y/n creeped up behind him

“you were told that we’d be making a few unannounced visits.”

“yeah. this is definitely unannounced. just give me one minute.” ben told her closing the door

“social services are at the door. so go and wash your face and get your head out of your ass and hope that you’re as good at acting like you are baking. you got like 5 minutes to sober up.” ben whisper yelled at her pointing towards the stairs

“please come in. i’ll show you around” ben said as he opened the door

she tried her best to sober up as much as she could while ben showed janine around the house and making sure that they could do what they needed to do

“are you sure you don’t want to see it again?” 

“nope, twice is usually my limit.” 

“i’m so sorry. i was finishing up cleaning the dishes. i didn’t have time to do them in the morning so with charlie down i got to do them” she said as they saw a few dishes in the sink

“okay. um let’s get started then”

y/n and ben sat next to each other while janine sat opposite of them

“let’s just talk. just get the sense of the both of you, your plans. where do you see yourselves in, say, five years?”

“OH I KNOW!” y/n practically yelled as ben tried to calm her down

“i own a small bakery, hopefully a full restaurant. anyways i hope to own my own frozen food, organic of course. but charlie, i didn’t include her but she is a part of my plan.”

“that’s fine. Thank you. ben? where do you see yourself in five years?” 

“wow, well hopefully i’ll still be acting. um like she said Charlie is a part of my plan to. i want to show her what i do-” ben started before getting cut off

“that’s what i wanted to talk to you about. the acting. i know actors manage to pull it off all the time but can you do it? can you still make sure that charlie will be provided and seen if y/n is needed for something?”

“yes. of course. with my new film i’ll be shooting here in london and around but i won’t be too far away from them.” ben told her

this was a surprise to her but it shouldn’t have been because of what it was about 

“there’s also another thing i’m concerned about. the dog-”

“yes. frankie. don’t worry, she is completely trained and would never harm charlie and pretty much has been like a protector to her. she knows when to listen and what to do.”

“okay, good. one last thing is the relationship between you two. i did read the daily mail and what they have said and didn’t believe them because who would. but i want to make sure that nothing in this relationship could cause any problems for charlie, especially when she gets older.”

“i’m actually in a relationship right now. and let me tell, it’s not so hot right now but he doesn’t know that. i can promise you that the problems between ben and i can be completely totally worked out.” y/n giggled out 

“exactly. if we have any problems i’m sure we would be able to work them out no matter what the situation is in a nice calm matter for charlie.”

“Good, well not with your relationship, hope everything's alright but with you two living together, the only thing we are concerned with is charlie losing more people she’s close too. well i think that’s it. just know we’ll be making a couple more not to many visits by the end of the year and if there’s any problems, just call us.” janine told them standing up shaking their hands 

when ben closed the door, he began to wonder what she was talking about and thought about whether it was a good time to tell her about what he heard sean say at the funeral 2 months before. 

“there’s something i need to tell you. you probably won’t remember because i can tell you’re still a little tipsy but it’s about sean” he started 

“a couple of months ago during the funeral reception, i overheard sean say something. he’s cheating on you and he wants to marry you because he thinks he’ll be able to get your company and expand it to become more rich.” 

“i know he’s cheating on me. i saw him earlier today that’s why it looked like i was crying.” y/n explained as she put her head on the couch pillow 

“we’ve had a rocky relationship from the start but i was too blind and naive to notice.” 

“so are you going to break up with him?”

“no.”

“no? why? he broke your heart, he’s controlling-”

“you think i don’t know that? every guy i have been with has been like that”

“what about me? we didn’t date but you don’t think i’m like that”

“no i don’t but you deserve someone who’s better.” she told him before continuing 

“i’m going to sleep. g’night ben”

“wait.”

ben did the unthinkable and grabbed her hand, turned her around and kissed her. it was too much to process but she kissed him back and put her hand up to his face 

“please break up with him.” ben whispered to her when they pulled away as their forehead touched

“i’ll try. i promise” she whispered back

the both laid in their beds that night and replayed the kiss in their head over and over again. y/n did have a plan to break up with sean. she didn’t know if it would work seeing that there were possibilities of what could happen. ben couldn’t stop smiling and felt like a teenage girl who just had her first kiss by the boy she liked. he never would’ve thought that the woman he took a booty call in front of a year ago would end up living with him and raising a child with him. 

throughout the night, she kept tossing and turning. not being able to sleep, she went downstairs to find ben peacefully asleep on the couch. she always felt guilty that he had to sleep there but he was too stubborn to let her sleep on the couch while he had the bed. ben woke up from noise being made in the kitchen and quickly retreated only to find her drinking some water. putting his slipper down, he walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, shocking her

“oh shit you scared me” she said putting the glass down and her other hand over her heart

“yeah sorry. i was just wondering why you were up”

“uh i couldn’t sleep. too much going on. what are you doing up?”

“i heard something, thought it was a burglar”

“and you decided to defend yourself with a shoe?”

“hey shoes can be weapons”

“okay, well i guess we should go back to sleep. i’d also like to apologize for earlier. i know i was drunk but it still doesn’t excuse me and my actions for what i said.”

“it’s fine, i felt the same way in a way i guess at first but i guess i’m over it and yeah we should.” he said as they both awkwardly stood there

as they started to go their separate ways, y/n stopped in her tracks and decided to ask ben something she wouldn’t never thought of 

“hey ben?” 

“yeah?”

“cou-could you stay with me? i don’t know if i’ll be able to sleep, if you don’t that’s okay.” she started to stutter out as her face turned red

“no, no it’s fine. and i’ll stay with you” he told her as he walked over to her and taking her hand

they stepped inside the room and got into the bed. at first they were facing away from each other before they turned around to each other. ben grabbed her waist and pulled her into him. she felt his chest rise and slowly falling back, taking in his scent which consisted of his cologne and cigarettes mixed together. y/n soon felt her eyes close as she felt safe in his arms.

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[gunmetalarchived]

after the fight with @consultingsister ft. @diabolicaltendencies @epiitaphs @theasteriae

SEVERIN After the X-rays, and making sure his brother finally got seen to, Severin hadn’t known what to do with himself. With his misplaced anger and grief. Whilst he was busy, it had been easy to ignore. He had a job to do, and as director of the Hospital, he had to handle the situation. Avoiding Sam had been easy, with the man so distracted by every other player in the over-dramatic series of events.  The problem came after the work day ended. And he had stoped to asses the worst of the damages. Something on his chest didn’t feel right. He hadn’t peeled back his shirt to have a proper look yet. There were scars covering black eye that looked a little impressive by now. Sebastian as going to be stuck in overnight, and Severin wasn’t sure they could even have a real conversation about what had happened if he wanted to. He left the hospital to stop the awkward questions, dodging the gossip as he walked home to his small flat south of the river. But his feet didn’t take him there. He followed the rhythm of step after step, numbly heading out across the city. He moved through the funeral numb. He moved through Jasper’s recovery numb. In all honestly, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had said her name. Had he been avoiding using it? On some subconscious level, that had to be a piece of it. Since the phone call, he had to keep running at a hundred miles an hour, breaking his neck to save the next person who needed him. It couldn’t happen again. The number of the building wasn’t even on the outside, this place was so fancy. He was almost stopped by the doorman, probably based on the dishevelled state he was wandering around in. Severin headed for the stars in order to avoid his questions too.

Royally fucking up didn’t even cover it. He was going to be fired, or suspended. He could live with either of those but lashing out at his wounded cousin who clearly wasn’t in a fit mental state to know the impact of his actions? It ate him alive from the inside. He felt the hot tears welling in his eyes, even as he tried to push them away and figure out which door was hers. He should go. The door opened before he could knock, almost certainly the worried doorman had called up.    ‘ I-“ The lump in his throat stopped him immediately, the sight of her both taking his breath away and landing another blow. In all the chaos, it had completely slipped his mind. He was supposed to meet her at the pub by UCL four hours ago. He was fucked that up too.    “ I-“ He tried again, his voice cracking this time as he couldn’t keep up his fight. A few tears began rolling down his cheeks, trying to regain control of the situation. “I’m sorry.”

CEE She wasn’t mad at him. This is how their lives were. Cee had even been prepared, bringing along her iPad and a book. In the two hours she waited she’d had three glasses of wine and got all her emails done. She had also finished the book she started over a month ago. It was even a little nice. Sure, dinner with Sev would have been nicer but it was like she was on a date with herself; something she hadn’t done in a couple years. Eventually, she had phoned. The haven’t you heard reply when she asked where they thought Sev might be didn’t worry her. It wasn’t the hasn’t someone told you that nurses give when a family member is in a coma and no one thought to call the brother. It was gossip. A tone of delight. If she was honest, she didn’t believe the receptionist. Alright, she fully believed that Sebastian and Sebastian had a punch up outside but thought there was some miscommunication. It tended to happen. Hospital chinese whispers. Severin had been there when it started, maybe got hit in a crossfire but he didn’t actually throw a punch. But the story seemed to have been verified by an eyewitness on her cigarette break and Tonya was dating on of the security guys so it seemed to be all true. Sev had been fighting. On her slow walk home, she half convinced herself that this was some sort of odd reaction to them getting back together. Sev taking out anxiety about commitment sort of thing. But by the time she had gotten home, she had decided to stop thinking so selfishly and order enough chinese for two and put on Some Like It Hot. Not a film you can stay annoyed while watching. The call from the lobby didn’t surprise her. She fixed her hair to make sure he would feel truly bad about it all and then met him at the door. Only he didn’t look like he could feel much worse. “Come here,” she coos, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she hugs him, still in the hall. “What have you been doing to yourself, you idiot.”

SEVERIN He hardly beloved what had happened, and it was his own fist that had made contact with Sebastian Morans jaw. The second he felt the arms of her embrace, his body wracked with hot and heavy sobs. He didn’t cry like this. Even through the worst of loosing their child. He held strong for Cee and mourned for what could have been, but he hadn’t been through it alone. He could sleep at night knowing they had both given it all they could, and sometimes it just wasn’t meant to be. As their relationship started to fall into pieces around them, he could console himself that the time they had shared was worth every heartbreak. In private, he’d shed a tear. But his chest aches, not from the black and blue bruising that was starting to pull to the surface but with what he had let himself become. He didn’t recognise this person. Angry, tired and selfish. “I-“ He tried to talk but he wasn’t in a fit state to say much. Her kindness was making it all worse. He didn’t deserve it. “I fucked up. I’m sorry, I’m just so sorry.” What was he sorry for? All of it. Loosing her, moving away, pulling her back in, hurting his family... it was all his fault.

CEE Ask Cee and she will tell you that she doesn’t like men who cry. If they can articulate their emotions from time to time, she was happy. But Sev was pretty much always the exception from the rule. He was the nice guy who treated her right, a break between all the guys who fucked her over for their own amusement. He was a genuinely good person, the sort of person who made her look pretty evil in comparison. Her grip was tighter shoulders his shoulders and she turned her head to kiss his neck, whispering into his ear. “Shh, stop it, you don’t need to be sorry, come on, get inside.” The doctor pulls back but doesn’t let go of him, gently pulling him inside and then closing the door behind him. “Here, look,” she picks up a box of tissues and points towards the sofa. “Go, sit, I’ll get you something to drink and something to eat and you can tell me what the hell happened today.” She didn’t wait around to guide him to a seat, instead going to collect two crystal glasses, a whiskey bottle and left over take out. Cecelia’s home didn’t have a lived in feel and yet it was very Cee. There were pictures, mostly ones Mary had insisted on putting up, even one of Sev somewhere but the style was modern, almost clinical. Admittedly, between being at work and staying with friends, she didn’t spend much time at home. “Take this,” she ordered him about like a patient taking medicine. The whiskey was a smooth gold; only the very best. “What the fuck, Sev?”

SEVERIN Her grip hurt, but he hardly noticed. He was making so much of a fuss in the hall, he was an idiot. He should go, work this out and pick it all away where it wouldn’t hurt him anymore. The problem was that he let hisself be lead over the threshold of her door, into her home. He tried to wipe the worst of the saltwater onto his filthy cuffs, covered jn died blood and gravel mostly. He hadn’t really changed once his sprint from the car, too distracted by everyone around him. Putting himself last until he didn’t have a choice anymore. He moved to perch nervously on the edge of the sofa, ignoring the tissues as his eyes darted nervously around the room. His vision was too blurred to take in his surroundings clearly, his tired eyes puffy from both the blow to his face and the tears. He was too tried to argue against orders, and took the whisky to awkwardly drum his fingers against. His breath were still deep as he fought to stay calm. “I lost it. I don’t even know what I was thinking- I-I wasn’t thinking I just... I couldn’t stop it, even if I wanted to it’s-“ His mind jumped around from reasons to excuse without letting him bridge the gap between the two. He carried on trying to pull steady breaths through his nose and out his mouth, only pausing to take a sip from his glass. “He didn’t mean it- I know he didn’t. But he said that stupid thing about the crash and I couldn’t stop.”

CEE The crash. A delicate subject and somewhat unwalked territory for Sev and Celia. Cee had visited Jasper in hospital now long after, word of mouth had got back to her. She shifted somewhat uncomfortably, her knees pressing against his as she turned to face him. She kept her own whiskey clasped between two hands. “Who did... Bash?” Cee knew the three key-players in today’s little drama and doubted Seb would bring up the crash, let alone saying something stupid about it. “Listen... I’m not saying violence is the answer here but I feel like Bash deserves a punch to the face now and again. Hell, even I have thumped his arm for comments about my skirt length.” She tried to inject some humour into the moments but she could feel it falling flat before it even left her mouth. She changed track and instead reached out to take one of his arms. “Losing it every once in a while is... that’s okay. What did, what did he say?”

SEVERIN He could barely even look at her. He brought the glass to his lips again, still trying desperately to count his breaths. In for 7. Out for 11. Just like every panicking patient he had treated. Maybe he would be able to stop the pounding of his heart and how it seemed to hammer away in his eardrums like crazy. Finally, after what left like a lifetime but was probably closer to thirty seconds, he gave a curt nod. It had to be the polarisation of what he was feeling and what she was saying, but he couldn’t help but laugh at her comment even in his state. “Wouldn’t recommend it, honestly.” Partly due to his reaction, partly due to the swelling in his fingers that didn’t want to go down. Her touch was more welcome than she could know. And yet he dodged her question entirely, possibly not even aware he was doing so. “I’m sorry. I meant to be there tonight, I really did and I show up all... I don’t know.”

CEE She herself gives a shrug, as if it was nothing. “Would we really be top quality doctors if we didn’t forget about our personal lives?” Another joke, another smile, she can’t help herself. She spends her days with panicking mother’s and new-dad’s pretending they’re big strong men when in reality, they just need a strong coffee and a hug. You adopt a only semi-serious demeanour after that. Everything is fine, everything is okay, even when it’s not. Without really thinking, she leans forward so her forehead is almost touching the side of his head and hen flicks up her nose. It’s a vintage move of hers, she used to do it on Sunday mornings. It was a hey and a what are you thinking all in one, without really asking. It felt right but her stomach squeezed uncomfortably as if she had done the wrong thing. Passionate sex I his office is one thing but this is real intimacy. “I don’t want you to be sorry, I want you to be okay.”

SEVERIN Cecelia was right. She was always right. They hadn’t always shared a love of career and each other, he understood completely when he had to take a back seat to her ambition. He would never, and could never resent her for that. In fact, it was one of the reasons he adored her. Her drive, her comparative nature, it kept Severin on his toes. He wanted to be a better person to be with her. And yet he’d let himself down. The gentle press against his forehead was like a leap back in time, enough to make him fight tears all over again. Trying to love as little as possible, he set his glass down and reached for her waist, as if to pull her into his lap. Any distance between them was too far. It had been pent up frustration that pulled them together again, the issue was that this was something real. Tangible familiarity so bitter sweet it could hurt. He shook his head against hers a little, his brow furrowing. “I’m not sure if I can tell you that.” He had to do it. He had to say her bloody name. Just once.   “He said if he’d been there, maybe Alex and the baby, they’d...” he couldn’t finish that sentence any more than his cousin had. Because the worst part was, he could have been right. “I should have been there. I should have been here.”

CEE She gives a sigh of frustration, maybe even annoyance, tinged with amusement. “That Basher Moran is really something else.” She thought she knew his type. She chose medicine because it was prestigious, rewarding, exciting! He chose medicine, for lack of a better word, because he liked being the guy who swooped in and saved the day. “Superman wannabe...” she snorted, finishing her thought out loud. Cee followed Sev’s lead, lifting one leg over his and straddling him with both knees by his side. This was an excellent manhadinging position. Easy to grab his jaw, make him look into her eyes and hear what an idiot he was being for still feeling this way. She didn’t though. Instead, she pushes his hair back, over and over, almost absent mindedly. “You weren’t though,” she says, simply. “And we don’t have the ability to see into the alternative universe that you were. For all you know, it could have been ten times worse.” Her hand drops, as do her eyes. This time, she does pull up his chin. “Are you going to spend the rest of your life wishing you change the past and... miss changing the future? That’s your life plan, Sev? That’s fucking rubbish.”21 October 2020

SEVERIN A smile graced his face again, glad to have her in his arms. Glad to have someone who could cut through the mess inside of his busy head. Severin had never been much good at battling his own thoughts, he acted first and just had to live with the consequences. Every part of him was as reckless as his late sister, and his older brother. If a little less openly self destructive. With her fingers taking softly though his hair, he started to focus on her eyes. He blinked once, twice, as Cee questioned him directly. For all her sympathy, he hadn’t expected it. Lulled into a false sense of security, this was what she probably planned all along. “But I should have been.” He couldn’t let it go. Not when he saw the effect ricochet across his life. He shook his head again, small and unsure in the face of her confrontation. His life plan had gone out of the window the second she hadn’t been there- mainly because his entire plan had consisted of following her to the end of the earth. “I’m trying. I’m here. I came back. But what use am I starting fights instead of preventing them? He’s... he’s not well and I was treating him, Cee.”

CEE Cee can’t say she doesn’t understand. On bad nights, after losing a patient, or sometimes when a patient gets to walk out of the hospital with their new bundle of joy, Celia replays the hours and days before losing their baby. An odd pain there, a sip of wine she was told not to have, a m moment that she knew something wasn’t quite right and yet did nothing. What if she had done something. What if, what if. And then it’s 5am and she is putting her own life, and her patience life, in danger because she hasn’t slept with thirty-six hours. She walked around the halls like a zombie, fretting over something she could never actually change. “Before you came back, Sherlock came in to hospital. Massive OD, still says it was an accident. It was... touch and go for a couple hours. Actually, it was some sor to miracle he came through it. And the first thing I did when he wake up... was hit him. He made some stupid comment about heaven being more clinical than he imagined and I lost it wit him. I think I pulled out of one his tubes, a nurse had to pull me off of him.” Her eyes gleam with unshed tears and yet she smiles like she’s recalling a funny memory; it was funny. After all that, they brought him back just so Cee could kill him.

“My point is,” she clears her throat, “I spend my whole day being calm, level headed and professional. Cold, even. I am with mothers... with parents at the very beginning of their magical journey and they usually come to me when it’s all going wrong. However, it is not my job to b calm, level headed and professional when it’s my brother. When it’s someone I love. That’s why there are rules, that’s why we don’t treat family. Because... if you had been there, if Bash had been there, you would not have been calm. He would not have been calm. He might have even lost Jasper too. So thank fuck you weren’t there. Thank god, it was calm, level headed, professional doctors, doing their best work to save your little brother. But we don’t save them all Sev, you know that as well as I do. We can’t save everyone.”

SEVERIN It was putting too much out there to admit the last time he had a solid nights sleep in his own bed had been the last night they spent together before it fell apart. He often found himself int he on call room, or hidden on the couch in Sams office, even with his flat less than a twenty minute run away. He might go home and change, although he was far more likely to shower at the office and just find yet another clean pair of scrubs to cover up the fact he was burning the candle at both ends. Abroad there was always an excuse to keep going a little longer, although with an extremely qualified staff, he had no excuses now. Severin listened intently, pushing the stray hairs off of her cheek and letting his hand linger there. He didn’t know. It wasn’t like her brothers spoke to him anymore. Sherlock had always been... tricky. “Sounds like he had it coming, giving you a scare like that.” He pushed against her forehead, closing his eyes to mimic her gesture with his nose. God, it was like they were teenagers again. Her scent, her touch, it was grounding. “You’re right. You always are, it just doesn’t stop...” He couldn’t save everyone. He let the silence had for a moment before he carried on. “I miss her.” He had to learn to process his grief, and not let it explode out of him. Especially with Bash in such a fragile state. “I don’t think I’ve been in a fight with Seb since... I’m actually not sure I’ve been in a fight?  Does the scuffle outside the Cock Inn count?”

CEE “Nah, everyone scuffles outside the Cock Inn,” she waved her hand as if she was waving away the very idea. It’s been such a long time since someone touched her like this but with Sev, it was like falling back into an old routine. Her leg goes there, his hand goes there. They slid into a position every time. Two halves creating a whole. It throws her off to hear Sev even alluding to the existence of Alex. For the most part, she avoided bringing up the subject of family, for either of them. Things were never less complicated just because you loved them. “Do you remember that time I let her do my hair? And she held the straighteners in too long and it burnt? My first ever bob.” She talks like this was some fond memory, which it was now, although at the time it was pretty traumatic. Celia had had long flowing hair since she was twelve; having to suddenly cut it too her shoulders had been horrible. “What do you miss the most about her?”

SEVERIN “That was your fault, you saw her hair and thought of course this girl knows what she’s doing. Yeah right. I thought you looked pretty sexy with a bob, if that matters.” It shouldn’t matter, he was very much a biased opinion. The corners of his mouth lifted in an soft smirk, his body growing still now he was comfortable enough to just breathe in sink with her. Calm. At peace. He closed his eyes, they tightened a little as he tried to remember the bitter parts of his difficult relationship with his younger sister. Not that Alex had an easy relationship with well... anyone. “It sound mad, but the rows she used to have. That house is just- it’s eerie now.” He hadn’t been back since the Christmas after the funeral, always finding an excuse to avoid being in his childhood home. It was hard to see the place in a state of cold absence. With a heavy breath, he found something brighter to hold onto. “She used to sit up on the roof with Seb and I, just blaring records and smoking where mum couldn’t complain. She knew all the words to every one, she thought it was Seb who had the half decent taste. No idea that mans totally tone deaf. They were all mine- well, one or two stolen from dad but she found them his side of the room and just assumed...” He had never once corrected her. He couldn’t take that away, that adoration  for their oldest brother who was her hero. He was fine with it really, as long as he got to share the summer evenings on the roof in the fading daylight. “When you were pregnant, she appointed herself the baby’s music teacher. She was going to make sure that kid had ‘style’ apparently.”

CEE “I’d never had the chance to be a big sister before, it was exciting!” She gives a whine that becomes a laugh. Cee had never had a want to be a big sister until she met Alex. Jasper was easy, over eager kid who appreciated anyone who treated him like a person, not a baby. Alex had to be talked into liking Cee. “I had to prove to her that I wasn’t just another nerd for her brother’s class. I had style, I was cool. Right up until I got pregnant... suddenly, mum, no style.” She laughs again but can’t quiet keep it up. The baby for Cee is much like Alex for Sev. An open wound, better not to prod at it too much. “She... I think she was the only person who didn’t treat me like glass after, you know? I don’t know, I was so ashamed to see your family after, like-- like I’d fucked it all up and everyone was so nice. I couldn’t-- well she still treated me like I was me. Asked if she was still her it’s godmother anyway.” It was hard to place herself in Sev’s position; losing a younger sibling. She is Alex in her family. Two doting older brothers. She knows that Mycroft feels a certain levl of responsibility for his younger brothers that Celia doesn’t. Myc had always been a grown up, no need to baby him. “What do you think she would be doing now? In some sort of rock band?”

SEVERIN Alex Moran had always had a mind of her own. Screaming until she was called Petya, biting teachers, breaking every rule she had been set and then some. No one, with the occasional exception of Seb who she had a special soft spot for, would be cool enough. Cool for her was not caring at all. She was effortless in her style and her rebellion, a born hellraiser. The more his kind lingered, the more he ached to see her again. He wasn’t going to break the illusion that Cee had of her, because in all truth Alex probably didn’t know how to treat someone like glass. “Cheeky fucker.” Severin shook his head a little, knowing he’d missed the toughest year with her. “Hmmmm, maybe. She talked about joining the army, even though mum was dead set against it. Even started to dry out a bit.” One of the last nights he had as holding her hair back, watching the absolute state she had worked herself into with bloodied fists on the edge of alcohol poisoning. “I don’t think sitting still was ever an option.”

CEE “I can only assume your mother telling her no would push her towards it.” Celia had never known a real parental-child relationship until she came into the Moran family. They seem to all take up their parts in a play; Sev the golden boy, Alex the daughter who couldn’t help but hate her mother. It was hard to imagine Celia ever fighting with Violet. If she went by what Mycroft said about their mother, Violet had never shouted in her entire life. Cee didn’t remember her father raising her voice that often either; he never needed to. “You know, I was half terrified we could have an Alex. Loved her to bits, obviously--” Cee smirks again. “But she kinda of scared me.”

SEVERIN “Absolutely. If mum had said yes, I bet she would have stayed at school out of spite.” He felt her breath on his face and lent forwards just enough to press a kiss to her cheek. But then he blinked. And blinked again just to be sure. “Have?” It was probably a drunken slip of the tongue, almost nothing. The issue was that nothing could be the ticket to exactly what he dreamed of. “I don’t blame you, she was terrifying. I don’t envy dad. But then imagine if we had a tiny know it all like you, well, I’m not sure I’d stand a chance.”

CEE Her smile is starting to get weaker. Her laugh sounds more like a sigh. Cee was never sure if she really regretted the miscarriage. That’s what made it worse. She half convinced herself that she had sent bad vibes to the baby. Not she told Sev this. She didn’t tell Sev very much after that. At least she knew she regretted that. It just felt as if she had given too much to him, let him get too close, allowed herself to be swayed from the goal. How was a baby going to help her make chief-of-surgery by thirty-five? Things had shifted in her mind since then; she had time to grow up a little bit. But she couldn’t say she had ever really dealt with that trauma, just learned to live with it. Forced herself to face it everyday and usually beat it. Saved mothers, healthy babies; everything she couldn’t have for herself she tried to give. “Do you think we would have actually made it? Young, dumb medical students with a baby. Happily married with dreams jobs? I just don’t-- didn’t see that. I think I would have resented you. And baby. I think-- I would have ruined it some other way. You would be a cute single dad though, all the nurses would fancy you. Proper superman. With the bitch of an ex-wife.”

SEVERIN Bringing it up was a stupid move, he should have left it. Except despite her fallen face, she didn't brush him off or freeze him out. There was room here to try and discuss the topic like adults, so long as he didn't push too firm. He pulled away just enough to get a better look at her face, not kissing Cee again simply to give her the chance to speak if she wanted to. "The job was your dream, you wanted it. It isn't mine. It's a means to an end." He could be changing plasters as a nurse in a primary school for all he really cared. He didn't need the title, or the accolades. If anything, they made it worse. Earning the approval of the board meant he was putting politics before patients, and that couldn't sit right with him. He didn't fault her for being ambitious, in fact he adored it about her. But she had to understand that this wasn't the be all and end all. He would sacrifice it in seconds, and already had more than once today with his stupid choices. Her comment about divorce aught him off guard. If she saw it ending in flames then... "Do you want to do this? A second go, I mean? I'm not... if you don't see it, why give me the chance?"

CEE Cee doesn’t ever remember having a conversation with her family about work v. home life. Morland worked twenty-four hours a day but it was more out of necessity than choice. And he never pitied his wife for wanting to spend all her days with her children. Someone have said Morland’s worldview had some sexist undertones but he raised his children all the same and Celia doubted he would have raised an eyebrow if Mycroft suddenly stepped down from his senior position to raise kids. Although, it would be very odd. But she knew, through his mask of delight, that Morland was disappointed when Celia got pregnant. That she was cutting her abilities short. Raising children is a fine pursuit, he might have said, but compared to medicine? Even she, who was witness to the magic of childbirth and parenthood every other day couldn’t compare the two. “No-- I mean then. I mean-- when we were kids pretending we weren’t. I had my mind on one thing and one thing only back then. That’s not-- I mean it’s still a little true but only because I don’t have anything else. If there was someone else...” she presses her lips together, then leans in to bump her nose against his. “I missed you. I never stopped missing you but I’d glad I had that time to grow by myself. I don’t think I was a very nice person when we broke up.”

SEVERIN Cecelia had every right to think they were children, pretending. The problem lay in that this man, this shadow of his former self, it was more of a mask than the happy father to be. The Severin of seven or eight years ago was effortless, probably a little naive but it was easier to smile. Easier to trust people. Far easier to sleep at night. A hum escaped his lips. “Hey- hey you’ve got me. You always have me.” And she would. “Whatever this ends up like... you’re stuck with me now.” In all truth, she wasn’t a nice person when they broke up. Whether that was intentional or not, he had been playing along like they might be able to fix things far longer than a sane man should have. From where he stood now though, he could only see it with rose tinted glasses. “I don’t regret any of it. I’d say I’d do it again in a heartbeat but I’m already here.” He pulled away, checking the time on his watch with a heavy sigh. “I should check in with Sam. Or downstairs. Sebs on observation overnight, he’ll need a change and a toothbrush or something..” He is noted the deeply purple finger on his hand, and the aches from beneath his shirt that still went unchecked. The near thirty hours without sleep was evident on his face, and yet his work was never finished.

CEE “That’s a lot of commitment for a first date.” Her grin suggested she didn’t mind. There was no taking it slow for them; it had been a ten year wait, filling time really. Her eyes followed his to his watch but she whined, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling his head into his chest. “Don’t go. I can call Sam, I won’t get drawn into it. You can stay here and I can help with your face.” The doctor pulled back to inspect, holding onto his chin and tilting his head to either side, with a little more force than she would with one of her real patience. “You know... you kind of suit a black eye. Kinda sexy.”

SEVERIN “Good thing I’m not worried about scaring you off” There wasn’t going to be an in between for them. It just wasn’t an option. Even when it came to sex, they knew each other too well just to stop at the physical. Even the failed attempt at dancing around the point was stupid, in hindsight. He winced, but pressed against her anyways. God, we wanted to say yes. “Maybe. I think it’s safe to say this isn’t going to go away quietly.” His mind related backed to his friends crushed, confused face. Yet another thing to feel bad for. He always gave Sam the benefit of the doubt, it was why he needed him as the second opinion. He had acted so coldly that even Moira would be proud of him. He didn’t fight as he was examined, drawing a breath through his teeth. “Don’t get used to it, I’ve learnt my lesson. I’m getting extra security guards whenever Bash is on duty.”

CEE “I don’t scare off easy,” she nods. After one last kiss to the forehead, she steps off of him, her long giraffe legs moving with improbable grace. There is a joke around the hospital that Celia is 90% legs and it was a mystery as to how her legs held up her brain. And her ego but no one said that to her face. “Listen, take a breath, take a drink. I’ll call Sam and get an update, and then check the nurse group chat and get a real update.” Maybe ask Mary too, for a woman who pretend to be above it all she always knows everything. She moves back into the kitchen and returns with her phone in one hand an ice pack in the other. “Knuckles or eyes first? I think I’d go for the eye.”

SEVERIN The second she had left his lap, Severin leant forwards to grab his glass and take a sip from his drink again. He tried to stretch the swollen fingers, the purple one looked the worst but nothing felt broken. He very much wasn’t in the mood to fight anymore. “You shouldn’t tell him I’m here.” It was too long winded to get into, and realistically the American was going to put the pieces together himself. But give Sams very valid opinion that Severin couldn’t be objective around his... (ex? That didn’t sound right?) around her, it wasn’t the best idea to give him grounds for concern. “Oh god, the nurses know?” Of course they did, but the reality that it had hit the level of the nurses group chat made his stomach sink. And, it reminded him why he had been pulled up in front of the board in the first place. The fact no one was getting a raise this year was going to play wonderfully in their eyes. “How about neither, and we just let the ground swallow me while instead?”

CEE “That’s who I heard it from like two hours ago; the nurses know everything.” She handed over the ice pack and placed the phone to her ear, sitting on top of Sev again. “Why, are we a secret?” She covered the receiver as she spoke but the call rung out to voicemail anyway. “If we’re going to sneak around, you’ll have to let me know, because I’ll have to redo my whole wardrobe to accommodate-- not single but trying to look single, ease of getting in and out of and heel height for kisses.” Cee placed the phone back to her ear as it began ringing again and on the fourth ring, an American voice greeted her less than enthusiastically. “Hey you,” she used her sing-song voice, over twenty years of getting daddy to give her what she wanted, made men melt. “What’s the gossip? Heard there was a punch up?” It takes ten minutes of lectures about gossiping and how it’s a serious matter before Cee decides she should have just checked the group chat. She even gets off Sev, starts to pace. At one point she looks Sev directly in and the eye and says, “Sev? No, I haven’t seen him.” It’s so horribly obvious. Eventually, she hangs up with a disgruntled huff. “He hates me. He hates me more now you go all doe-eyed around me.”

SEVERIN "They may as well lead with it on the evening news." He took the ice pack, moaning a little as he pressed it to his face with his bad hand. May as well do both at the same time. He shuffled to let her get comfy, until her conversation pulled her away. He cracked a smile at her voice though, he'd heard that tone before. Usually when she needed to know which set of notes he'd borrowed or if he was planning on going to the library tomorrow. She still scrunched her nose the same way, even if her age wore it well. They weren't sneaking around as such just... letting it develop without an audience. Everyone already knew more than they should, it would take the pressure off to give them some time to figure things out. Not that they seemed to need it, it was an old routine. He had finished his glass by the time her phone call finished, watching her pace with nervous energy. The second the line went dead, he had to know. "Is Bash alright? Does he need anything? Should I go over there? I can be there in, well..." He flicked his wrist to see his watch again, a nervous habit. He cried out a little, forgetting about the swelling in his hand.

CEE She opens her mouth to say everything is fine, mostly but then changes tact and instead, gives a small gasp of terror. “No, everything is awful! Seb and Bash started fighting again and somehow the brawl moved into one of the upstairs toilets. They smashed up the sinks and water was going everywhere. The bottom two floors of the hospital are now flooded; patients are floating along corridors and Sam said it was reminiscent of scenes from the Titanic.” She takes her first deep breath, keeping up the panicked look, and continues. “Sam said he lost Bash and Seb for a while, but, still locked in a wrestling match, they made thier way down four flights of stairs because Seb demanded they go to WHS in search of a toothbrush. Meanwhile, somehow, on the fourth floor, a fire has started. It spread through to where we keep the oxygen tanks and the whole hospital exploded. Luckily, the flooding sort of... stopped the explosion though... and... okay, I’m out of imagined chaos.

Yes, everything is fine. Seb is a big boy. Bash is... being looked after. Sam has a handle on it all. Sue from accounting slept with the porter Chris, which honestly, after her divorce; totally valid.” She reaches up to take over icing his eye. “Until a phone rings, or my pager goes, the hospital does not exist. It’s just me... and you...” she kneels on the floor in front of him and for, she realises then, the first time that night, she leans up to kiss him. Slow and deep, like a first kiss. “You have to chill.”

SEVERIN Instantly, he was on his feet. Even now, he fell for her tricks- hook line and sinker. He was so easy to mess with, and far too transparent for his own good. Only as her hysterics hit the Titanic did he catch on, rolling his eyes at her stream of events. It wasn't far off reality. As their lips met, he stopped caring about anything outside of these four walls. The city of London could burn down and he wouldn't notice, dying a very happy man indeed. He kissed her back, sliding off the sofa very smoothly for someone who was supposed to be in pain. "I can chill. Need me to prove it?"

CEE “Why do I feel like your proof for chilling isn’t very chill at all?” It felt like they were back in university again when he kissed her; she was being pulled away from stacks of notes with kisses and seductive whispers. Take an hour off, just sixty minutes. Somehow, the hour always became two and two, more than often, because three. It was something of a miracle that they didn’t get pregnant sooner. “Oh,” she giggled against his lips, pushing him back into the sofa to move on top of him again. “I have a great idea. We one up the fighting rumours and say you got a black eye from trying out to somer super exotic sex position. That would travel way quicker around the hospital than a stupid fight.”

SEVERIN “Whatever do you mean...” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her exactly where she settled. He stopped kissing her, only to trail yet more kisses down onto her neck and her collar. They hadn’t got the date they expected, but it looked like she was in the mood for him to stay the night anyway. He was practiced at being the perfect distraction after all. “Right. Subtle, I like it.” She had more than enough fun circling rumours about his entire extended family. “I think the witnesses to the other event might have something to say about it but sure, why the hell not.”

CEE "There is nothing subtle about me baby." Her hands move from unbuttoning his shirt to pulling the zip down at the back of her dress; restless, a little too urgent. She never felt embarrassed with him, or like she was stepping over the mark. Even as they danced around each other for the past six months; they made a good team in and out of the bedroom. "Wait, wait," she gives a annoyed little groan. "Stop, I want this to be-- our second first time was on your office floor. At least let me light some candles in the bedroom or something. We're not... horny teenagers anymore, we should be having sex like adults. With some prep."23 October 2020

SEVERIN “You can say that again.” He grinned from ear to ear, total putty in her hands as she undressed him. He tried to help with the zip, even if it was a little awkward. When she stopped to whine, he paused too. Had he done something wrong? No, she was finding all new objections. “What are you talking about? Sex?” He played it confused, furrowing his brows almost comically. “I though we were going to get into some pyjamas and have a nap- seeing as you wanted chill.” He didn’t care about candles, or ambience. She was the only important part of that whole equation. “Speak for yourself, I think I could still pass for a first year without the stubble.”

CEE She seemed to struggle between having some semblance of being mature adults and-- well, getting laid. In that one respect, she had not grown up and had no real intention of it. While she hadn’t pursued many, if any, serious romantic relationships since the demise of theirs, she couldn’t say the same about more casual pursuits. It was the most fun way to burn calories after all. “Alright, fine, we can have fun, spontaneous living room sex until we are-- all official and holding hands in public. From then on in, it’s only boring missionary sex with lights off in the bedroom. Like adults.”

SEVERIN “Hey,” He leant back into the sofa, pulling away to get a good look at her. “If you want special then let’s do it. It’s not- I don’t want to hide anything. It’s not that at all.” He knew the weight of expectation, and the fallout that falling apart would mean now he was technically her boss. “It’s more giving this a shot without work politics, without your family or mine. Just us. And I don’t think I can agree to that- nothing about you will ever be boring.”

CEE Cee ran her hand through his hair, nodding along. To be with him, without expectation, might be nice. Not to be in the nurse group chat everything other day because she met eyes with Sev or they seemed to have had a spat in the third floor ward. “Just us,” she repeats, as if she’s agreeing to a contract. Cee wrapped her arms around his neck. “Take me to the bedroom, and it will be just us.”

SEVERIN He was practically purring at her hands in his hair. Being without this, without her, that was torture. He didn’t even realise how hard that was until now. He had been functioning almost entirely on empty, or just adrenaline. But now it could be them, just them, again. “Nice to know you’re still as demanding as always.” He wrapped one arm around her waist, using the good hand to push against the sofa and get the pair of them two their feet. “You’re going to have to give me directions, remember?”

CEE She is dangerously close to getting lost in his smile. “Oh, shoot. Um--” she glances around as if she has forgotten. “Right to the end of the hall and then to your right. Left! You know at least two of the other doors also have beds so you can’t go too wrong. If you trip over shoes, that’s a closest.” She doesn’t say one of many. When she bought the place the realtor asked if she had any children, hence the six bedroom. No, she had replied, I just have a lot of Dior.

#discord thread 006 | after the fight #( S. M. | v: angsters anatomy ) #miscarrige tw #injury tw #death tw #consultingsister

[astraltrain]

i realize i haven't talked about gorillaz hcs on here in a Fat Second so here i go. trigger warnings for uhhh abuse, trauma, suicide mention, alcohol mention, death mention, experimentation (for noodle) - this is gorillaz there's a lot. this is also SUPER LONG so i'll try and add a read more

every one of em has Trauma To The Max babey!!!! these guys have been to hell and back!!! literally in murdoc's case

cyborg could talk! she just chose not to. also murdoc realized programming her with a voice was annoying because she Looked like noodle but he couldn't make her sound exactly like her and it pissed him off. every word cyborg learned was through murdoc/2D/the book of man/various other scrap pieces of paper she found

russel n del were boyfs. fuck you

2D is the only straight member. i think this is canon actually ngl (was it ever made canon that russel n del were together?? i don't remember)

russel truly believes del was his soulmate and that he'll never find love again

every year on the anniversary of d-day 2D goes back to the place where the uncle norm's organ emporium was (which is now a greggs. i know my gorillaz lore) and just vibes for a bit

russel likes to visit graveyards and play music for the lonely spirits who don't get visitors

2D accompanied him once on one of these trips and it was wild cause 2D's like "russel russel russel are there any spirits near me" as like. all of the spirits huddle next to russel because 2D is loud and annoying. russel's like "oh yeah dee there's tons of spirits over there they really like you. why don't you sing for them" and dee's like :DD

2D is generally pretty oblivious. but. he noticed russel was really sad and missing del during phase two and wrote mr softy's balloon race to cheer him up. it was one of the nicest things russel had received in years and he cried over it for hours. what 2D Didn't know was that he'd just saved russel's life and he didn't even know it.

noodle as a ten year old didn't realize How Bad the relationship between murdoc and 2D was. obviously she'd had a really fucked up childhood so far so when murdoc would hurt 2D and 2D would laugh and play it off so as not to scare noodle, noodle was just like :DDD thinking it was all ok

it was during the time that noodle was alone in phase two after remembering her past that she was like. o h n o that was bad wasn't it

noodle met a girl in japan and lowkey fell in love with her, but they had to split so noodle could go back to kong. she wrote every planet we reach is dead for her

2D and noodle never got to properly reunite in phase three. by the time doyathing happened, 2D hadn't seen her in like seven years

murdoc is trying to be less of a terrible person now and all the other members take advantage of it. russel's like "can i get a coffee please murdoc" and murdoc goes "fuck off" but all russel has to say is "remember when you thought i'd offed myself so you replaced me with a drum machine" and murdoc's like. "how many sugars" dhdgdgdh

noodle n 2D fucking love to dance together like absolute nerds

2D is like. the awkward big brother

they are each others wingmen when picking up girls

except 2D doesn't do that as much anymore so in reality he tries to be noodle's wingman but it fails miserably because 2D Can't Do Social Interaction

the boogieman and the evangelist were murdoc's parents

all the band have really bad insomnia and nightmares so sometimes they all have sleepovers in one room and just. watch a movie and sit on their phones but they're in each other's company and that's all they need

they all have a fear of helicopters, especially noodle

russel became extremely claustrophobic after his time in north korea which was very understandable

all of them have pretty weird triggers but none of them question them. noodle starts freaking out cause 2D's eating bacon and he's like "o shit sorry i'll go to another room" they're all very respectful and it's great

the reason 2D had that bead curtain door in phase four was cause after plastic beach, he couldn't stand to be in rooms with closed doors anymore

also! more 2D angst! he didn't sing for like. a good couple years after plastic beach because Trauma Babey!! so when he had to sing again for humanz, the first time he got into the studio he just. had a complete fucking meltdown because he was so scared to sing again. eventually he managed it but he literally couldn't sing with murdoc around because he was so afraid of him

noodle sometimes does really childish stuff because obviously she had no fucking childhood and the others just let her go for it and support her if she gets embarrassed about it

noodle has killed people. lots of em. some against her will as a kid, some more recently. she has a lot of nightmares about it but unlike the rest of the band, she does Really good self care and looks after herself really well

the band sometimes go on spontaneous road trips and usually end up getting lost and taking aesthetic pictures at gas stations

noodle very rarely cries because she would have gotten into trouble for that as a kid so she bottles all her emotions up in favour of helping her family. when she started going to therapy she pretended all was well for a little while but that didn't work for very long and she completely broke down. russel was very surprised to see noodle come home that day in tears and just throw herself into his arms

noodle really likes fashion and clothes and makeup!! she likes to be Colourful and Bright

when she first arrived at kong at ten years old, she really didn't understand what was going on. none of the band spoke any japanese so she was under the impression that these people were new doctors who were going to train/test on her. she stuck to the routine she was given back in japan and was very surprised when the others didn't do the same. like small green man it's three in the afternoon why are you just up?? big bald man why are you just going to bed??? where is the tall blue man WHAT IS GOING ON

none of the band members were qualified to be parents. at all. they were all very messed up mentally and therefore noodle just kinda did what she wanted as a kid

noodle was exposed to a lot of bad shit while in kong. 2D and murdoc were not responsible at all about what they did and said around noodle so russel tried to be more responsible about that, but little noodle's just like "oh don't worry i've seen worse" and russel's like ?????

noodle was the one to rebuild cyborg out of the parts she had left from plastic beach. she did this while murdoc was in prison just to prove she could

2D has an extreme fear of cyborg, which is. obvious

noodle didn't tell 2D she was rebuilding cyborg. when he finds out he flips his shit and noodle's like. ah. maybe this was not a great idea

cyborg has now formed her own band! the rejects!

2D wears little bobby pins in his hair behind his ear which the band sometimes lowkey makes fun of him for until one day noodle asks why and he tells her it was because back on plastic beach, murdoc would sometimes be too drunk to remember to bring 2D food so he had to pick the lock and go steal some. so Yikes babey!!!!!!

writing the fall was the only thing that helped 2D cope during plastic beach. that's why there was barely any singing on it - this was HIS album, HIS voice, not murdoc's. he could do what he wanted with it. writing it was the only thing that kept him sane

noodle's the only member who hasn't tried to off herself at any point oop

they're all doing a lot better now cause they're all going to therapy yes even murdoc! yay fun happy times

russel taught noodle english and in return noodle taught him japanese. russel can now speak pretty good japanese and 2D knows like. the most basic of shit *flashbacks to the gshock interview video*

there was a while where noodle believed that literally all she was for was other people. that she was either a weapon or a guitarist and nothing more. it was only after she disappeared after phase two that she realized she could be more

she still has a scar from el mañana but she covers it up with makeup

2D and murdoc have made a pact to smoke/drink less, respectively. they also made what they called a "non suicide pact" - a pact not to off themselves, formed after 2D found murdoc shooting bullets into the ceiling in phase four

murdoc knew about the dartboard 2D had in his room that had his face on it because noodle and russel told him but he didn't really believe it until he went up into his room like "hey dents can i -" and 2D turns round and just stares at him, darts in hand fhgvhfhvf

murdoc: ....whatya doin' there dents

2D, turning back to the dartboard and throwing one straight into dartboard murdoc's eye: practicing for the real thing

hcvdhvdfhg anyway

sometimes 2D literally Cannot be around murdoc so he'll disappear for days without telling anyone cause he forgets that people worry about him oh no

murdoc says he wants to drink less alcohol cause he wants to better himself as a person but really it's because he can't drink without getting flashbacks to plastic beach

murdoc's memories of plastic beach aren't great. he was drunk out his mind most of the time so he luckily forgot a lot that comes back to haunt him in nightmares and has him waking up thinking "fuck did i really do that??" but yeah sometimes 2D just reminds him of something really awful he did and murdoc's like. a h

when ace came into gorillaz he was absolutely doing it for the paycheck. then he realized how Enormously Fucked Up these people were and was like o h n o

ace could not understand a word of 2D's english accent

ace once asked 2D why he was called that. 2D said "well my real name is stuart but murdoc calls me 2D and it stuck" and ace goes!!! that's bullshit!!! and he starts calling him stuart. he refuses to call him 2D. 2D gets so emotional over it he starts crying and ace is like "s h i t what do i do did i fuck up" but in reality dee's just glad to like. not be "2D" for once and to just be someone else

murdoc and 2D are heavily codependent on each other and it's extremely unhealthy cause obviously they're Really Bad For Each Other but. 2D's known murdoc since he was 19 and murdoc has never really left his life except for the one point before and after plastic beach. that's why when murdoc goes to prison in phase five, 2D just goes apeshit. because now 2D doesn't have the threat of murdoc constantly hanging over his head!! he's gone and 2D is free!!!! yay!!!!!!!

then he's like. o h. he's gone and i'm free. oh no

because he has no clue what to do with himself now!! his whole life revolved around murdoc and now murdoc is gone 2D's realizing "Oh No maybe our relationship WAS really unhealthy if i'm feeling this depressed now that he's gone!!!"

the now now was like. the fall part two: electric boogaloo in terms of how 2D wrote it to cope with his trauma

souk eye was like a really depressing love song

2D's lowkey a little in love with murdoc but not really in the romantic sense at all. and obviously it's not cute or reciprocated by murdoc or anything 2d.c shippers dni blease

he just. feels like murdoc's the only one who could ever love him and UGH it's so unhealthy. luckily noodle makes him go to therapy and he gets a bit better. by the time the end of phase five rolls around 2D's like >:D yeah!! i won't let you hurt me anymore murdoc!!!

then murdoc actually escapes and is rumored to be dead and the whole band just shuts down

because murdoc, like it or not (and none of them liked it), was the glue that held the band together. and fuck if it didn't fucking destroy them all a little bit, especially 2D

then murdoc showed up at their door and. 2D was the one to answer it without knowing it was murdoc. and there's noodle and also murdoc, still in his prison clothes, covered in literal shit, and the first thing he blurts out is "i listened to the album."

2D panics and slams the door in his face HCDGHGCDH

russel refuses to let murdoc inside unless he can give him one good reason to. noodle comes in through the back door and comforts her brother while he has a panic attack and murdoc's just. sitting at the door pouring his heart out to russel through the door. covered in shit. these guys need help man

eventually 2D and murdoc face each other again and oh lord. they're both crying and then murdoc apologizes and murdoc's never apologized for anything, ever, he never says he's sorry, and then they're hugging and noodle and russel are like !!!!!!!

meanwhile ace is like. can i get my paycheck. can i PLEASE get my paycheck

murdoc: here dents i got you a demon possessed yak. her name is madonna

ace, who's spent many a night listening to 2D cry and vent about murdoc and all he's done to him: surely he's not just gonna accept that and move on

russel and noodle, who know 2D far too well: oh he will. trust me he will

long story short 2D is now the proud father of a demon possessed yak named madonna

song machine is kind of like. their Big Project that they're putting together to try and bring them all closer as a family. it's kind of working but also not really. they're trying their best

they're all a good family and they have to stick together and they're messed up but they love each other!!!! that is all thank you and goodnight ladies and gentlemen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#gorillaz headcanons #thats all folks!!! this is so long cause i went off on many tangents vhbvxd #abuse tw #alcohol tw #suicide tw #trauma tw #death mention #experimentation tw #gorillaz

[transgenderhelicopter-blog]

Let me down

I used to be afraid of Darkness, I would wake up screaming in my bed, trying to find the nearest light. I could not breathe, the Darkness took me for many nights. I learned to embrace it...

I am a good for nothing, which literally means what it says, good-for-nothing.

I am the product of a broken economy, unemployment and most of all,  procrastination.

Somewhere along the way I lost the spark that lights our passions and it was replaced by the hole of despair. I am not willing to change things anymore, I just want to-

This is a work of fiction, but for me it means more than that, this is my only way to express what I truly feel, I don’t expect this to make sense, I just need to let it all out and maybe this will reach someone who will resonate with my words. I am afraid of putting my true feelings on paper, I am scared to be judged, to put the costume away and let all to see what lies beneath. 

Yet it is something I must do.

Sometimes to feel the light we need to take our masks out. This is my bare Self.

“When was the last time I left my house?”

I would ask myself this many times throughout the week, I could never remember.

The trash was starting to pile up in the kitchen, the food was running out and the stink of my armpits was becoming unbearable, but none of that mattered to me anymore. I had nothing, nothing to lose as well, I just had to pay rent and utilities and that meant 30 more days with a roof, simple and efficient-

No. It doesn’t feel right. Let me try again.

Ok I’m back I just had some rice.

 Eating that rice made me think about one quote from Lao tzu, I am not going to quote it but basically talks about water, how water gives life to everything in the planet yet it claims no ownership on any of the creatures it gives life to, you can step on water yet it will not react in any manner, water is everywhere. This really enlightened my conception of God (This just real I know). Growing up I was always told God loved me and had a plan for. How he was everywhere and loved everyone. As a kid I took that as a fact coming from my mom but not only until I entered my twenties I started to really look into it and give that blurred idea of God more definition. 

My conclusion? Well I don’t have one, but I got something better, a core idea of God (just to clarify this is my perception and yours is as valid as mine, something which I will explain later.)

Drum rolls please! (Now you imagine the cool drum roll noise, thank you)

GOD IS BOTH GOOD AND BAD. 

Say what? But I thought God was a source of eternal love and he had a place in heaven for me?

Well yes, but no. By that I mean God does love you, but also he doesn’t. Confusing right? Well I have an imaginary doctor that looks like Einstein that will explain this with fancy words, Doc if you might?

“Why of course my dear colleague, allow me to clarify the previous statement. What my dear friend means is that technically good and evil are not really true concepts, to illustrate this I will ask you dear reader to think about temperature.

Many would say the opposite of cold is… Hot! 

But it is not as simple as that, in my colleague’s perception hot and cold are just a lack and abundance of temperature, they both belong to the temperature realm, they are not opposites, they are quantities of temperature. You wouldn't say a kilo of rice is the opposite of twenty kilos of rice would you? Well the same can be applied to actions to some extent. Now this is not to be taken as an excuse to become a murderous machine shielding your actions with this idea, only a fool would do such a thing, this is why “technically” is such a keyword. 

Societies do have good and evil, and depending on your society you may have slightly or even quite different conceptions of them. You have a moral compass, which will make you feel bad when you do something “evil” and good when something “good” has been done. But these are just human representation or more accurately, creation. Now back to my colleague thank you for listening to this old man’s rumbling”

Wow that was boring. Anyways back to what I was saying, again this might not make sense at all but honestly and too deep to stop now and I am having a blast doing this. 

So if God is everything why is he not associated with the bad stuff? I asked my friends one simple question, what is evil? Their answer?

“Imagine that God is a candle, the closer you are to the candle the more light and warm there is, but if you go far away you won’t feel that right? Evil is the absence of God.”

Clap, clap,clap.

That was good man, I liked that response quite a lot. But that's just a pretty response, I am at the same point before asking the question. God is everything right? So how can there be any absence of everything? See what I mean? My answer?

 God is. 

That’s it. Do with it what you want.

Next!

Let’s talk about love (Yay!) more specifically unconditional love (ugh).

My take on this is I don’t believe in unconditional love, we love things or people because of the things they do or have that benefit us. 

“Bu-But my girl is like the most loyal and she loves me no matter what and I asked if she would leave me for George Clooney and she said she won’t!”

Good for you mate!

Anyways I had a weird upbringing which led to me being a weird person. (Who would have thought right!?) 

And that’s it for the love section! Brief and underwhelming just like me in bed!

Now that the bed joke is finally taken out of the way let’s continue shall we?

Now on a more serious note, many of us feel It, I call it It because I don’t know how to call it, and in all honesty It sounds hella cool. But yeah, it happens, you relapse, things fall apart and everything lose meaning, you go to social media and are bombarded with smiles and people having the time of their life, what I am saying is not new, heck many of you might have heard the same thing on social media, which is so ironic but whatever. I am not gonna tell you things are gonna get better or worse, because I don’t know shit, but I can tell you that the only constant in life is change for the good and the bad, so if you are in at the bottom of the hill know that it won’t be forever and if you are on top of the mountain the same applies. That is. 

NOW IS TIME TO TALK ABOUT ME YAY!

Ohh I love talking about myself, don’t we all? I could talk hours upon hours about myself and never get tired!

I have so many fuck yous to say but not enough time sadly so we’ll skip that!

I was raised by a single mother (Can I get a round of applause for them?)

In a country with a broken economy but an amazing quality of life, I still haven’t met my father and I don’t know if I’ll ever will, I wrote him but he left me on read (fuck him).

I have a half sister, her Dad ain’t mine but I took his last name, the guy was loaded and a drunk with psycho issues, so a lot of screaming at home which I am pretty sure messed me up because every time someone screams at me weird shit happens.

And that’s it for now, I don’t want to bore you guys but know that I have a lot to tell!

Next!

POLITICAL VIEWS

This is gonna get spicy!

So what am I? Am I a republican? An anarchist? A democrat?

Honestly dude, I am just me, do I have opinions on how a country should be run?

Of course!

Am I educated enough to convince people on how a country should be run?

I’ll let you answer that one! (the answer starts with an N and ends with an O though)

Do I think the people educated enough are doing a good job? Well just look at the news and it is quite clear.

My views? Equity, equal opportunity, racism is a no no. (Pretty basic huh? Well it’s only three things but we haven’t achieved a single one in thousands of years so you tell me)

AND NOW THE CLOSING PARAGRAPH OF PART ONE

This started as a cry for help, a hole in the balloon filled with despair and honestly, the balloon is gone, I feel so much better. So thank you Untitled Document and slowed down music compilation.

And yeah maybe I’ll continue this in more detail or maybe I won’t but for now this will remain a short story, with that said, See ya later alligator!

#ayylmao

[emoboijk]

jjk | calla lilies

“The calla lilies are in bloom again. Such a strange flower—suitable to any occasion.” (Katherine Hepburn) or You're trying to help set him up with his boyhood crush and things don't go according to plan. —hanahaki disease au, non-idol au, friends-to-lovers au, flora & fauna series

6,222 words

p.cred

The waiting room is beige with a dark brown carpet, the kind that has either always been that color or is that color as a result of years of use. There are paintings (ironically) of flowers on the walls, and potted plants stationed randomly between the chairs. A receptionist sits behind a counter, typing on a computer and answering the phone when it rings. Aside from her, there are seven people scattered about the room.

Jeongguk sits in the corner, eyes flicking between the different patients without paying any real attention, bouncing his leg and drumming his fingers on his thighs. He’s always been an overachiever, but this takes the cake. Of all the flowers to infest his lungs: calla lilies. And black ones at that. How fucking emo.

He presses against the earbuds in his ears even though they aren’t falling out; he wants to disappear. It’s easier with loud music, so he’s been blasting Linkin Park (a favorite from his teen years) ever since he first coughed up the dark black calla lily petal three days ago. Although he didn’t so much “cough it up” as pull it slowly, painfully from his esophagus, because calla lily petals are long as fuck. But even with the reverberations of Linkin Park in his ears, he can’t escape the image of the woman stumbling to and from the bathroom, or the boy all but curled into the fetal position in his chair. His jaw is clenched as if that’s all it will take to keep any more flower petals or blood from coming up his throat.

Jeongguk nearly jumps when his music is interrupted by a harsh ding in his ears. He takes out the earbuds, wincing when he can hear the girl vomiting harshly in the bathroom; he immediately puts them back in. Of course, he thinks once he pulls out his phone, you have a sixth sense about these things.

Hey, is everything okay? It’s been like 12 hours since you texted me so ofc I’m freaking out :D

He smiles at his phone like an idiot.

JK: haven’t been feeling well

JK: at the doctor’s now

Oh! Want me to stop by with some soup later?

He chuckles and wonders if soup could burn up all the flowers in his lungs.

JK: no soup but you can stop by if you want

There are immediately three little dots beneath his last message, so he already knows what you’re going to say. And then a nurse comes out; despite the music he knows she’s said his name. He raises his hand as if in school, flushing at his embarrassment, before removing the earbuds and stuffing them and his phone into his pocket.

“Come on back." He follows behind her noiselessly, hands balled up into his jacket pockets.

The nurse asks the questions with a bored tone, typing his information into a computer, measuring his blood pressure and pulse. She has to scold him three times before he can finally calm down enough to stop drumming his fingers on the side of the table.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she says before closing the door. He wished she’d given him some kind of indication of how bad it was.

His fingers hit the metal table even harder and when he can hear voices outside the room and the clock on the wall ticking slowly, he stuffs the earbuds back into his ears.

Cool! 3 okay?

JK: yes!

It makes him feel better, knowing you’ll be there to talk to later. He hasn’t told anyone about his…condition; he wanted to wait until he knew for sure what was going on. But if he was going to tell anyone, it would be you.

He takes his earbuds out again when the doctor walks in, smiling warmly at him before perusing his chart. The doctor isn't old but he has started graying; there are laugh lines around his eyes and mouth. Jeongguk immediately trusts him.

The doctor raises his eyebrows and looks up at him, “Calla lilies, huh?”

Deep, deep sigh. “Yes.”  

The doctor almost chuckles at his patient’s whiney tone. He pulls a stool over and sits in front of him. “I’m Dr. Moon.” He holds out his hand and Jeongguk takes it, bowing his head respectfully.

“I’m going to listen to your lungs and take a look down your throat, but we may need scans to survey the full extent of the infestation,” the doctor says. Jeongguk nods. He feels like the tortoise trying to catch up with the hare. Dr. Moon continues, “But before we look at the physical signs, I have to ask about your mental state.”

“My mental state?” Jeongguk cocks his head to the side.

“Yes. Truth be told, Hanahaki starts with the mind. There are many cases in which the patient only believes that their love is unreciprocated, and yet that is enough to kill a person. Grief, despair…those are the killers.” Dr. Moon looks solemn for a long moment before continuing, “So. What’s your story?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen because it feels like such a personal question. He’s barely told you all of the details, how is he supposed to tell a stranger in a lab coat?

Dr. Moon senses his hesitation and pats Jeongguk’s shoulder, “Trust me. I need to know.”

Jeongguk sighs and says, “Um. I don’t really know her, I guess. We went to school together for a long time, had a few classes…” He flushes as he speaks, his cheeks going beet red because what kind of an idiot gets Hanahaki disease for a boyhood crush? He hides his face behind his hands.

“I see,” the doctor says, standing and patting his shoulder again, “Okay, let’s take a listen.”

Dr. Moon presses the stethoscope to Jeongguk’s chest and back; he breathes deeply when cued, only having to stop once when a matte black calla lily petal inches up his throat. Jeongguk frowns as he holds it between two fingers, dropping it in the trash can Dr. Moon offers.

“So,” the doctor says when he’s finished, “it doesn’t look too bad.”

“Really?” Jeongguk’s face brightens.

“You’re in the early stages. But you’d be surprised how quickly things can escalate. You have some options for now; I’m going to prescribe some anti-growth pills that should keep the flora from progressing too much. And…” he pauses, choosing his next words carefully, “I would recommend finding a way to get over this woman. It’s always best to avoid surgery if you can, but if there’s no way of overcoming the mental and emotional hurdle, you might want to consider the surgery…” The doctor twists around to retrieve a pamphlet from the counter.

Jeongguk takes it carefully, the cover reads Flora Removal Surgery: What You Need to Know. He takes his bottom lip into his mouth and worries it slightly, frowning at the image on the front of a man with a rose growing in his chest.

Dr. Moon scribbles on a pad of paper before ripping it off and handing it to Jeongguk, “Get this filled today, and let’s make an appointment for a follow up in a couple of weeks.”

“Okay,” Jeongguk whispers, head swimming with the doctor’s words.

An hour and a half later Jeongguk is walking home, toting a small paper pharmacy bag and a wrinkled brow. The pamphlet the doctor gave him is burning a hole in his pocket, and he’s so lost in thought that he doesn't see you.

You're learning against the door of his apartment in a patch of sun, squinting as you see him round the corner. He's stressed. You can tell by the way he carries himself: the hunch of his shoulders, the wrinkle in his brow, the downturn of his lips. Right now he resembles the quiet boy you knew in middle school, not the confident young man he actually is.

As soon as he’s in touching distance, you press the back of your hand to his forehead and say, “How are you feeling?”

Jeongguk jumps at the sudden contact. But once he realizes it’s you he chuckles and shakes your hand off, “I’m fine.” But even he doesn’t believe himself. He unlocks the door to the apartment and sighs in relief for the air conditioning.

You follow behind him, picking up the supermarket bag you’d abandoned on the ground as you do so. He said no soup, but he hadn’t said anything about snacks…so you bought all of his favorites.

When you finally get in, closing the door behind you, he’s buried in the fridge (unbeknownst to you, he drops his prescription there in a rush). He’s chugging a carton of orange juice in large gulps. You avoid looking at him (sweaty and shedding his layers of clothing so that his shirt rides up…) and make yourself comfortable on his couch, dumping the contents of the bag onto the coffee table.

“Sick!” Jeongguk grins, swiping a bag of chips from the table and landing next to you on the couch.

There’s a pain in your chest as his arm brushes against yours but you can’t make yourself move away. Instead, you press your hand against his forehead again and frown, “You feel warm.”

“I’ve been walking in the sun for fifteen minutes,” he shrugs, chewing with his mouth open.

You wrinkle your nose at this; it’s one of his more annoying habits from childhood that, unbelievably, has grown on you.

“What did the doctor say?”

Jeongguk clams up. He puts down his bag of chips awkwardly, wiping his mouth to buy time before saying, “It’s not…that bad.”

“What?” Your eyes narrow.

Jeongguk avoids eye contact with you. Jeongguk “Golden Child” Jeon is pretty much good at everything, even lying (when the occasion permits it). He’s like Korean Superman. But his Kryptonite?

Sitting next to him on the loveseat and watching him so closely it burns.

He shrugs and bounces off the couch like he’s spring-loaded, rubbing the back of his neck, “Nothing. A cold.”

You cross your arms and lean into the couch, watching him twitch nervously as he tries to decide why he stood up. “Which is it?” you ask, “Nothing? Or a cold?”

He still won’t look at you. “I mean…it’s a cold. But it’s not anything serious. So it’s nothing. A nothing cold.”

You stand up and touch his arm gently. He finally turns to look at you, his expression guilty. You brush a piece of his hair from his face, and say, “For the record: I don’t believe you. But, fine, you don’t have to tell me.” You shrug, then hit the back of his head, “But you do have to tell me if it gets serious!” You narrow your eyes again before picking up a box of Poky and plopping down on the couch.

Jeongguk stares at you for a moment too long, his chest feeling the lightest it has in days. He adores you, his best friend, his confidant, his person. Watching as you sink deeper into the couch, pulling your knees to your chest and scrolling through Netflix on the TV…it feels like he can breathe again.

But he only gets through half an episode of Hwayugi (a recent discovery on Netflix and an instant favorite of yours and his) before his chest begins to feel tight. Jeongguk coughs harshly into a closed fist, feeling something wet on his palm and already knowing what it is instinctively.

“Gguk?” you gasp when he rises suddenly, bolting across the room and dropping to his knees in front of the toilet. He heaves violently and when he opens his eyes there’s a mix of blood, bile, and dark calla lily petals swirling in the water. Ironically, the sight (and the smell, dear god) makes him nauseous.

He leans away from the bowl, resting his back and head against the wall, trying to calm his heart and get the taste of blood from his mouth. A surge of thoughts hit his mind and he jumps when the toilet flushes.

Your face is confused and concerned as you watch him breathing heavily. Chewing on your bottom lip, you sink to your knees to sit across from him in the small space. "So...it's nothing, huh?"

Jeongguk almost smiles, his lips quirking upward just slightly, dyed red from the blood. He shrugs, his chest hurting with the effort of breathing, “Well…the doctor said it didn’t look too bad.”

“Jeongguk,” you sigh. You reach forward and push his mop of dark hair away from his forehead. There’s a sheen of sweat shining in the light that filters in from the window and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows down blood and bile, his chest heaves with the exertion. You have to bite your tongue to keep your composure.

You twist around so that you’re sitting next to him, knees touching as he almost subconsciously starts to lean into you. Fighting against the pain, you rest your cheek against the top of his head, sighing again, “Who is it?”

Jeongguk scrunches his face together and you can feel shame shed off him in waves, “Lisa.”

There’s a split second where you can feel a fresh pain in your chest and you almost cry out. Instead, you smile and force a seemingly involuntary snort from your nose, nudging him with your elbow.

“Lisa Em,” you chuckle. Lalisa Manoban from Bangkok. She’d transferred in the middle of fourth grade and had thus made quite an entrance; she was popular instantaneously. All of the teachers had struggled with her last name (for reasons unbeknownst to you) and had unanimously called her Lisa Emmmm.  

You remember the first time Jeongguk saw her. He was ten years old, eyes wide like galaxies and in awe of her. She’d been assigned to your and his reading group; ten-year-old Lisa had pulled out her chair, smiled and bowed shyly at the group, then complimented JK’s sketch of the tree in the courtyard. You’d watched from across the table as a new kind of light hit his fourth-grade face.

In retrospect, after you’d received your official diagnosis, you’d wondered if Hanhaki could start that early. You guessed probably not. But then again…

“Don’t laugh,” Jeongguk whines, but he’s smiling as he buries his head in your shoulder.

“I’m not laughing,” you grin.

“I know I’m an idiot,” he chuckles.

“True,” you joke, pinching his knee playfully, “but not because of this.”

“What should I do?” he whispers as if contemplating it out loud will cause the room to shatter.

“What did the doctor say?” You’re whispering; such delicate and sensitive topics are not meant for the light of day.

“To get over it.”

You roll your eyes, “They did not say that.”

Chuckling despite himself, he clarifies, “He suggested I do what I can to get over her. But he gave me some meds for now, and a pamphlet on the surgery.”

You let out your breath abruptly as if his words were a sudden weight on your chest. You cough almost violently, and Jeongguk pushes off your side to get a good look at you.

You wave your hand at him so he won’t worry, but when you manage to swallow the clotted dandelion seeds in your throat (a habit your doctor has told you multiple times will speed up the progression of your disease) he still has that same expression. To distract him, you say, “Do you want to get over her?”

Jeongguk watches you for another long second, pouting when he decides to answer, “No, of course not.”

“Well then let’s fix you two up!” You’re a little too loud with your explanation, like a goose squawking. You hope he doesn’t notice that your teeth are now stained pink.

“What?”

Awkwardly you lick your teeth, tasting iron on your tongue, before you turn to face him. “That will make the flowers go away! Hanahaki disease is motivated by the brain; you think it’s unreciprocated which makes the flowers grow. If you two get together, you no longer think it’s unreciprocated, the flowers go away!”

Jeongguk runs a hand through his hair and you try not to watch the way his fingers move or his arm flexes. “But in my case, it really is unreciprocated. I only see her when we pass each other on campus. We just…wave,” he says lamely.

“So? Even if you go on a couple of dates, that will do it!”

For the second time, he watches you suspiciously, “Why do you know so much about Hanahaki disease?”

“Um,” you look at the grimy blue bath tile, “I had to research it for an elective?” You mean to make it a statement, but your voice goes up on the end like a question. But the plan has had enough time to percolate in Jeongguk’s mind and he’s too excited now to notice.

“Where do we start?”

Three days later and you’re hiding behind an untrimmed hedge in the quad with Jeongguk. He has his hand shoved into a bag of chips and you keep twisting around to shush him because it’s too noisy.

“I think you’re taking the stealth thing a little seriously,” he chuckles, loudly crunching on chips just to be annoying.

“You’re the one dressed all in black.”

“This isn’t for stealth, this is my aesthetic.” He puts a dramatic emphasis on the word aesthetic, but it’s ruined when he immediately starts crunching loudly on his chips.

You finally look away from the central part of the quad to side-eye him, “Are you sure they meet up here?”

Jeongguk nods seriously and you can see he’s using his tongue to pry chewed chips from his teeth. “I always see Lisa and BamBam sitting around here after my three o’clock class.”

“BamBam” is BamBam Kunpimook, an exchange student from Thailand.  He and Lisa were friends from childhood (before she moved) that had reconnected last year. After a couple of strategizing sessions (in which you and Jeongguk played video games and talked aimlessly about Lisa), you'd decided he posed the biggest threat to Jeongguk’s future success.

You turn back to look at the quad, squinting against the sunlight and Jeongguk puts his chin on your shoulder to watch with you. He stuffs the empty bag of chips into his hoody pocket and frowns, “Are you sure about this?”

You find it hard to concentrate with him all but sitting on top of you. Ever since you’d learned about the Hanahaki disease, he’d amped up the skinship. You’d always been close, and not necessarily shy about skinship, but lately it seems like he’s been hanging off you constantly. Normally, you wouldn’t complain, but it makes it hard to breathe. Literally. The doctor said one of the side effects of Hanahaki, although rare, was that any kind of touch from your unreciprocated love could make the flowers grow.

Jeongguk leans against you heavily, his back pressed against yours and his chin almost digging into your shoulder. He inhales deeply; you smell like soap and laundry detergent (his two favorite things) and it makes his heart flutter. He lets the scent settle in his mind, conjuring up images of you that make him smile. Then he takes another deep breath because it’s easier when he’s close to you.

“Of course,” you whisper, but you don’t turn to look at him. You can feel how close he is and if you turn he’d be right there and with so many possibilities. “This is your life,” you add, shrugging him off gently when you see BamBam’s lithe stature from across the quad.

You stand and raise your arm in a wave, “BamBam!”

Jeongguk almost falls on his ass without you there to steady him. He takes a shaky breath, wincing at the stabs of pain in his lungs now that you’re gone.

BamBam cocks his head at you but doesn’t stop walking, taking his earbuds out and saying your name like a question. His confusion is warranted, considering you’ve only ever had one class together and it's not one in which you’ve ever talked.

“Do you have a second?” You stop in front of him, squinting because he’s standing in front of the sun, “I lost the homework assignment for composition…”

He shrugs good-naturedly and swings his backpack off, turning to place it on a bench as he digs through the papers. You catch sight of Lisa and turn to wave discreetly at Jeongguk.

“Shit,” Jeongguk whispers, bouncing up once he’s seen her. He doesn’t realize his strength and flies about half a foot in the air from the force, landing shakily and almost losing his balance. He jogs across the quad to meet her.

You snort at his antics, shaking your head to turn back to BamBam. He’s holding out the assignment and watching you with a curious expression.

“You like him.” He’s smirking and it isn’t a question.

You hope your blush can be attributed to the mid-afternoon sun. “Of course, he’s my best friend.”

BamBam shakes his head and puts his homework away. You don’t even bother with the ruse anymore, too focused now on your defensive strategies. “Not like that,” he says. He looks above your head now and you turn to follow his line of sight.

Lisa is laughing happily at something Jeongguk’s said and he has his nose scrunched him in a smile so you know he’s pleased. It creates an odd mixture of feelings for you. You’re happy for him because he’s happy; you’d do nearly anything to get him to smile like that. But there’s a sharp pain in your chest, and before you know it you’re coughing up blood.

“Oh my god,” BamBam says, his hand on your back, “Are you okay?”

You wave your hands around as if to say I’m fine, don’t worry, but it just comes off as frantic. BamBam digs into his bag again and pulls out a towel, “Here.”

You take it and wrinkle your nose because it smells like sweat but use it to wipe your mouth anyway. You swallow, but the seeds won’t go down and you cough again, holding the towel to your face and covering it in blood.

Lisa’s the one that points it out to Jeongguk, pointing in your and BamBam’s direction. He turns casually and with a smile, expecting you to be watching his success with pride. But his blood runs cold when he sees you collapsed on a bench with BamBam leaning over you.

Jeongguk can’t think. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that it’s knocking against his rib cage. It only takes three seconds to run across the quad, but it feels like that dream where no matter how fast he runs he can’t get to where he’s going.

Until he’s there, heaving painless breaths without noticing and crouching over you. His hand is hot on the back of your neck and he’s startled by how cold you are. When he tilts your head to look at him there’s a little crease between his eyebrows.

You’re a bit delirious and all you can think about is kissing that crease.

But then he says your name so earnestly that it cuts through the delirium and the blood loss. You feel BamBam’s towel still in your hand and swiftly push it off the bench, waving your other hand at Jeongguk carelessly.

“I’m fine,” you insist.

“What happened?” Jeongguk whispers. Never, in the entire time you’ve known him, have you seen Jeongguk get loud when he’s upset. He always gets quiet. Lots of people, particularly in high school (pre-Junior year when he went through his growth spurt and started working out), took this as a kind of meekness. You know that to be the furthest thing from the truth. There’s a strength in the depths of his eyes as he watches you now; it makes sharp dandelion stems stab your lungs.

“I just got lightheaded,” you say softly. In his eyes, crouching down beside the strength, you see fear. You place a hand atop his wrist so that he knows to let you go. His hand travels to yours and he helps you stand, tightening his grip when you wobble. “Dehydrated,” you try to explain, watching as BamBam notices the blood on the towel and opens his mouth to contradict you. You make a face before he can and add, “Haven’t had any water today.”

Jeongguk calls you an idiot softly under his breath and you would be annoyed but you’re too tired and you know he’s just scared. Instead, you let him loop an arm around your back to help keep you upright (you need his steady hold more than you can say) and let him walk you away.

Lisa stands next to BamBam and watches the two of you go, “That was weird.”

Only when you’ve both turned the corner does he reach behind the bench and retrieve the bloody towel. He holds it out to Lisa and frowns, “She’s sick.”

The next two days are spent on Jeongguk’s couch because he won’t let you leave. You gave up trying midway through day one because, frankly, he’s bigger and stronger than you. And he has a nice couch.

But he’s been force-feeding you water (8 ounces every hour, on the hour) and you’ve missed nearly all of your classes by now.

“Where are you going?” Jeongguk says when he sees you toeing on your shoes in the entryway. He’s standing at the other end of the hall with a bag of gummies and a hurt-puppy expression.

“Home. To shower. And then to class.” You tighten the straps on your backpack and reach down to get the lip of your shoe over your heel.

“But—”

“I can come back afterward,” you say, smiling at his forlorn expression. “But I have to go to class today because he’s handing out midterm assignments. And if I’m going to class, I have to shower. I’m surprised you put up with it this long.”

Jeongguk frowns, “You do smell pretty bad…but you can use my shower!” He flings his arm in the direction of the bathroom and gummy candies fly out of the bag.

You chuckle and say, “Gguk, I’ll be fine. I’m so hydrated I’m practically a liquid.” You wink at him boldly and disappear out his front door.

Jeongguk stays frowning at the door for a long moment. He places a hand over his heart self-consciously, muttering unhappily, “My chest hurts.” Then he turns on his heel, abandoning the gummy candies he’s spilled.

You get winded walking back to your apartment and you have to pause before you climb the stairs. As you unlock the door you make a mental note to schedule another doctor’s appointment. Even not having taken any the last couple of days, you know you’re running out of anti-growth pills.

You’d thought about sneaking some from Jeongguk’s stash while he held you hostage but it left a sour taste in your mouth. He needed those. Instead, you did your best to hide the coughing and the blood.

You take off your shoes, drop your bag on the ground and immediately turn into the kitchen. The anti-growth pills are sitting on the counter like always and when you twist the cap open you’re disappointed to find you only have ten left.

“I guess that’s what happens when you take them five at a time,” you whisper, shaking out that many and gulping them down without water.

Then you choke. Because you’ve never been badass enough to take pills without water, so you scramble for a glass as you cough. Your phone buzzes as you lean against the sink, breathing heavily.

JK: make it home ok?

The message causes a warm stir of fluttering in your stomach and you smile down at it.

Yes! Stop worrying!

JK: don’t tell me what to do!

Jeongguk has put on jeans and he regrets it. They’re a couple of years old and while he stares down at your messages, waiting for you to reply, he keeps adjusting his crotch in them. They’re a bit tight.

But since you’re going to class, he figured he might as well. Not Calculus, of course (he still thinks that’s some kind of elaborate practical joke pulled by the university), but probably Advanced Photo Comp. and Music Theory. So he showered and pulled a giant black t-shirt out of his closet and the only clean pair of pants he has (he’s been too busy hydrating you the last two days to do laundry): three-year-old jeans.

He stares at his phone the entire walk to campus, checks it every two minutes in both classes (enough that Mr. Kim actually snaps at him), and is still watching it as he crosses the quad on his way home.

“Hey, Jeongguk!”

Lisa Em. He’s startled when he sees her because, as terrible as it sounds, he had kind of forgotten she existed.

Jeongguk furrows his brow, placing a hand on his chest. Nothing but a dull ache. His jaw drops at the realization.

“Lisa,” he smiles at her, “What’s up?”

She shrugs, “I was just wondering if your friend was okay. BamBam and I have been worried.”

His head tilts to the side in confusion.

Lisa says your name and points to the bench, “The girl you’ve been hanging out with forever? The one who was coughing up blood three days ago?”

Jeongguk freezes like there’s ice in his veins. His heart is pounding so loud in his ears that it’s all he can hear. “What,” he whispers. His mind is racing back to the day, to the last couple of days. Why would you cough up blood and not tell him!

Lisa is saying something but he doesn’t listen. “I have to go,” he says, rushing past her.

The professor has just begun explaining the midterm project when you reach down to your bag for a fresh pen and your head starts to swim. You steady yourself on another chair, unable to right yourself.

“Woah,” you whisper. Breathing is like wading through cement.

Your vision goes black and you hit the floor with a loud thump.

When Jeongguk gets to the Modern Languages Building, he’s sweating and out of breath. One of the knees on his jeans has ripped from when he tripped and fell; blood is seeping into the fabric from the scrape on his skin. His lungs burn with the strain but there’s none of that prickly feeling he had grown so used to.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees the ambulance turn the corner. His knees feel weak and he might’ve hit the ground if BamBam hadn’t come up behind him.

“Hey,” he says softly, patting Jeongguk’s shoulder.

“What,” Jeongguk is panting, still watching the spot he last saw the ambulance, “What happened.”

“She fainted,” BamBam says and holds out a bag. A jolt runs through Jeongguk as he recognizes it; the dorky video game and anime buttons, the spot where Jeongguk scribbled a cartoonish sketch of himself your senior of high school, the orange juice stain…

Jeongguk tugs the bag from BamBam’s grip and clutches it tightly to his chest. BamBam seems to sense his thoughts before he voices them and says, “They’re taking her to Seoul Central.”

Jeongguk is gone.

By the time he arrives at Seoul Central Hospital, Jeongguk has convinced himself that it’s too late. That whatever’s wrong with you has progressed too far and you’re gone. His eyes hurt from holding back the tears.

He approaches the counter of the emergency room like a man walking to his death. His grip on your backpack is so tight the pattern on the handle has dug into his palm. The nurse watches him with a concerned look.

Jeongguk clears his throat and his voice is polite as he says your name. The nurse looks it up on the computer and he can tell she’s found it. But she hesitates.

“We’re not supposed to let anyone but family back,” she says.

“We’re family,” Jeongguk insists, “We’re family,” he repeats it several more times like a mantra.

“Okay, okay, honey,” the woman stands, “Room 1132, two lefts and a right. Go on back.”

Jeongguk nods and pulls your backpack up to his chest, hugging it tightly as he wanders down the hall. All urgency has left him, now he only feels a sense of doom. But she would’ve said something if you were dead…

He doesn’t notice the tears that slip down his cheeks and hit the floor.

“1132,” he whispers, opening the door with a shaky breath.

You’re. Awake.

Jeongguk drops your backpack in surprise and stares. Now he does fall to his knees because he’s so relieved his body can’t hold him up.

“Woah,” a nurse says, jogging from your side of the bed to Jeongguk’s crumpled form on the floor. He lifts him by the armpits and places him in a chair, waving a hand in front of his face. “You okay?”

“Jeongguk?” It hurts to say aloud. Your voice is raspy and raw and soaked in emotion.

At the sound of your voice, Jeongguk is up so fast that he sends the nurse reeling. He takes your hand and squeezes, “What happened? Are you okay? Why did you faint?”

The nurse rolls his eyes and shakes his head. He walks back over to your other side, “That’s what happens when you put off life-saving surgery,” he jokes. He cracks the ice pack he’d been prepping before Jeongguk walked in and then presses it to your head (the spot that hit the ground when you collapsed), “Keep this here. The doctor will be right in.”

“Surgery?” Jeongguk wonders but you won’t meet his eyes. When he finally looks away from you he spots an x-ray in the corner. He assumes it’s yours. A ribcage, dark shadows in the shape of lungs and…a messy infestation of flowers. His eyes turn wide and fearful, “Hanahaki?” His voice cracks.

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks. Jeongguk stumbles back in disbelief.

“But,” he whispers, over and over again. “Who?”

Tears are spilling over your eyes unbidden, seamless and silent like rain on a window. You try to look at him even though your vision’s blurred. “It’s you, Jeongguk.”

Jeongguk is a statue. Frozen in time. The gears in his brain try to process that statement and they refuse to. He blinks and that’s how you know he’s alive.

You keep crying, still noiselessly, but you cover your face. You’re mortified. And your chest feels like the crack in the concrete where flowers bloom, split open by nature and forever scarred.

It’s a long minute before Jeongguk finally says, “What.” His eyes flick to you and stare like you’re an abstract painting he doesn’t understand.

You frown and your face is itchy with wetness. Your voice is soft and raw, “You’re my unrequited love, Jeongguk.” Your voice cracks on his name.

He points to himself as if you may have gotten him confused for someone. “Me.”

You almost laugh. You do smile. He’s ridiculous.

“What do you mean unrequited?” he frowns, and it’s really a pout. He can’t believe that you could be friends for two decades and you think he doesn’t love you.

You sigh; your smile is gone. “I know I’m your best friend and you love me, but…”

“I’m in love with you,” he blurts and then looks sheepish.

You shake your head, “Don’t just say that.”

Jeongguk furrows his brow, “I would never just. Say. That.” He’s balled his hands into fists and he’s about as angry as you’ve ever seen him. He chews on the inside of his cheek and stuffs his hands into his pockets. He can’t take it anymore.

Jeongguk lunges forward boldly, clumsily taking your face in his hands and pressing his lips to yours. He’s determined and his lips stay frozen against yours for a long time; your eyes are open as you stare at him, bewildered.

When he pulls away there are tears in his eyes, “It’s not going to work if you don’t kiss back.”

“What’s not going to work?” you whisper, brushing a tear from his cheek.

“Making the flowers go away,” two more tears, “If you kiss me back, you believe that I love you…they’ll go away. Kiss me back.”

This time when he kisses you you’re ready. He tastes like mango chapstick and desire. His hands are warm against your cheeks and his kiss makes you feel warm everywhere else. When he pulls away so you can breathe, he lands soft butterfly kisses all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, kiss, kiss, kiss. On the side of your mouth and your cheeks and your nose and you’re forehead. “I’m sorry. I love you.”

A doctor clears their throat and Jeongguk leaps away from you like he’s been electrified. He stares at the ground sheepishly and it makes you giggle and blush. The doctor is standing in the doorway watching with a  bemused expression.

“Well,” the doctor says, standing in the doorway casually, “I guess we should do an x-ray to confirm there are no more flowers.”

author’s note—happy birthday jeongguk-ssi (now watch this tweet go crazy)

for more of my works check out my m.list

#bts #rosynamjoon #bts x reader #jeongguk #jungkook #bangtanbudsnet #bangtanbuds #jungkook x reader #jeongguk x reader #jeon jeongguk fic #jeon jungkook

[erintoknow]

one by one

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

Nights drinking with Dr. Mortum have become equal parts business and pleasure. You never know where you’ll find a new lead. [Fake]

[Read on AO3]

“Jane…?” Dr. Mortum’s voice is quiet compared to the noise of the bar. Busy night at Joes again.

“Mm?” Jane blinks, jerking her head up. “Sorry, sorry. I was a million miles away.” You need to stop thinking about Ortega. This is getting dangerous.

“Penny for your thoughts, mon amie?”

“Oh, uh…” She scans the floor, looking for something to sidetrack the conversation. “What do you make of that modded woman over there?” Jane nods her head in the direction of the game tables. A heavily scarred Latina woman with mods down the back of her head is in a heated argument with an Asian man with a crisp pressed suit. South-east Asian maybe? “Does she have any sense of self-preservation? That’s not the kind of guy I’d want to cross, personally.”

“Not the kind of person you would cross?” Mortum laughs, “What makes you say that?”

“Look at him.” Jane gestures in their direction, a quick motion. Hopefully not noticed by anyone but the doctor. “That suit? In this dive? Guy’s some kind of made-man.” She shakes her head. “Just asking for trouble.”

“You are not wrong.” Mortum nods her head in agreement. “I do believe that is one of Hollow Ground’s men.”

“Hollow Ground?” Jane frowns, drumming her fingers on the table. “Huh.”

Now that you think about it, you’ve seen him around here once or twice. Hollow Ground has a finger in just about every criminal enterprise in Los Diablos, so it’s to be expected, really.

“Do you think Hollow Ground is a real person, or is he like… some sort of shadow cabal?”

Mortum shrugs, suddenly interested in her drink. “I find it does not pay to ask that kind of question, mon amie.”

“Hrmmm…” Sooner or later, you’re going to end up crossing paths with Hollow Ground, whatever they are. In another life, you’d listen to Ortega talk about her theories, try to help her track down likely clues. Not once did either of you turn up anything material. Who or whatever they are, their grip was rock solid. Anyone that wanted to talk had a habit of catching a case of sudden death.

Ortega was convinced there was a singular person behind it. Someone that had murdered her mentor, Marshal Hood.

It was never your favorite subject. Something about the whole thing just… seemed off.

Funny to think you might stand a better chance of finding out the truth now, when you could never tell Ortega. “What are the odds you think it’ll escalate into a fight?”

Mortum doesn’t even look up. “Seventy-six precent.”

“Did you just make that up?”

“Of course, mon amie.” She winks at Jane. “Did you expect me to say something like, ‘somewhat likely’ like some kind of hack?”

“Ugh. Scientists.” Jane rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I wonder how much of your stuff is just bullshit.”

“Madam, you wound me.”

Jane doesn’t offer a retort, watching the argument slowly escalate in volume. Maybe you can get a sense of this guy’s abilities. Two-to-one he’s some kind of Enhanced. Rosie approaches the modded Latina, trying to talk her down.

To little success.

With a sigh, Jane pushes herself up from her seat. “Alright, I’m gonna go pull Rosie’s ass out of the fire.”

“I would have thought she could handle herself, but suit yourself mon amie.” Mortum eyes the scene, then flickers back to Jane with barely concealed curiosity.

“You know me.” Jane winks, a smile on her face.

Sauntering over to the table, Jane keeps her hands on hips as she surveys the scene. It’s a quantum roulette table. Numbers generated using quantum uncertainty to make an ‘uncheatable’ game. The wide variety of different boost abilities out there have forced gambling to take a few extra steps in order for casinos to stay on top.

The scarred Latina has left her seat to come around and prod Hollow Ground’s guy, who has in turn gotten out of his seat and is staring down at the shorter woman with an air of bored amusement.

Hrm. Doesn’t look like she had much money left. Good sign.

Rosie tries to reach for her friend’s shoulder, pull her back. “Mecha… please. Don’t start anything.”

“I don’t care! I’m sick of this cheater!”

Jane siddles up next to Rosie. No one else looks about to interview. The Croupier watches with a blank expression, as if expecting things to resolve themselves. The other players look to be quietly collecting their winnings. “Hey, Rosie.”

“–Jane?” Rosie glances to the side, face brightening up once catching sight of her friend. “Oh, hey Janey.”

“How’s the luck running?”

“Not bad – well, not as bad as…” Rosie makes a face, nodding towards Mecha.

“I heard. Along with the rest of the bar.” Jane eyes Mecha, who has not once stopped ranting at her supposed ‘cheater.’ “What’s the problem here anyway?”

Rosie drops her voice into a whisper, guarding her mouth with a hand. “Mecha thinks Jake here is cheating.” ‘Jake’ huh?

“Seriously?” Jane raises her voice. “She’s really going to accuse Joes of running a crooked game?”

That gets Mecha to turn, snarling. “No I’m not.” She jabs a finger at Jake’s chest. “I’m saying he is cheating!”

To your relief, Jake brushes the finger off, his expression unchanging.

“So… let me get this straight,” Jane frowns. “You’re saying–”

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business!”

“You’re loud enough to make it my business.”

Rosie winces, “She’s not wrong.”

“Look.” You sigh, shoot a glance at Jake. “You really want to say someone that works for Hollow Ground has to stoop to cheating? Really?”

“I…” Mecha grinds her teeth, balling her hands into fists and then letting go. “I see your point.” Oh good, so she’s not suicidal. That’s nice. Mecha spares one last glance at Jake. “But…”

“It was a bad losing streak.” Rosie cuts in. “Legendary.”

“I… guess.” Mecha groans.

Jake shrugs, “Bad luck. It happens.”

“Whatever.” Mecha throws up her hands, stepping away from the table. “I’m out of here.” She doesn’t even stop to collect her meager winnings.

Rosie watches her leave with a sigh. “Well, that could have gone better.”

“Hey,” Jane winks. “It could have gone a lot worse too.”

Jake sits back down at the table, taking stock of his large pile of tokens. “You gonna play then?”

Would it be weirder to say yes or no? Jane glances at Rosie who shrugs, unhelpful. “Alright, well. There’s a free seat, so why not?” With a smile she takes the open seat and sits down. Guess maybe a round or two won’t hurt right?

It’s a weird sensation as Jane sits down. Like this has all happened before. Someone laughs as a new song comes on the radio. The numbers finish cycling, landing on red twelve.

Okay.

That was unsettling.

The croupier looks at Jane, blank faced. “Place your bet miss.”

Jane pulls a few bills out of her purse. As she does, someone laughs in the background, a new song cycling onto the radio. Okay. That’s weird.

A moment of hesitation and then –

Jane puts the fifty dollar bill on the table. “Put in on red twelve.” You did this before, didn’t you? Or were going to? Or was always going to have done? It doesn’t quite feel real.

“Jesus.” Rosie groans behind Jane, watching over her shoulder. “You don’t put that much on a single number, Janey.”

“Beginner’s luck.” Jane can’t stop the grin as she watches the numbers cycle. It’s all for show. The actual randomization takes an instant. But what is gambling without pagenty?

Hrm. No wonder so many villains gamble.

The croupier does not sound surprised as he speaks, but he looks in Jane’s direction, curious. “Red twelve, Miss Jane wins.”

Behind her, Rosie gasps, slaps Jane on the back. “Hot damn! I can’t believe it.”

“...neither can I.” Jane watches the small fortune shoved her way, wide-eyed. “I was just… the beginner’s luck thing was bravado.”

“Hey, guess drinks on you tonight, huh Janey?”

“...sure.” Sitting across from her, Jake watches Jane intently. He’s not the only one. Might have outstayed your welcome sooner than you expected. Robotically, she splits off a handful of bills and presses them into Rosie’s hands as she gets up from the table. “Have ten of them.”

“See, this is why we’re friends.”

“Uh-huh.” Swallow hard, throat dry. What the fuck was that?

Dr. Mortum is still waiting when Jane returns. Face a little more ashen then when she left. Purse significantly fuller.

Mortum raises her glass in greeting. “Still in one piece, I see?”

Jane’s smile as she sits back down is more brittle than you’d planned. “Disappointed?”

“Of course not, mon amie!” Dr. Mortum looks genuine enough as she says it. “I was mostly… curious what you were up to.”

“Worried?”

“More…” She takes a drink to stall for time. “Wondering why, I suppose.”

Jane shrugs. Would prefer to move on from this topic sooner rather than later. “I guess I wasn’t eager to see a friend of Rosie’s get put in an early grave.”

“Is that so?” Mortum raises eyebrows, not buying it. “That is a noble goal.”

“Probably futile, if we’re honest.”

“I was not going to say anything.”

Jane shrugs, keeps her back turned on the roulette table. Could swear you feel Jake’s eyes digging into Jane’s back. Without your telepathy, you can’t actually know that if that’s true or if you’re just being paranoid.

You’re not sure which answer you’d prefer.

“Do I really need a goal?” What Jane needs is a new drink. “It was fun, I guess. Nothing more to it.”

“Fun?” Dr. Mortum winks. “Perhaps you are in the wrong line of work, mon amie.”

“Oh don’t start with that again.” Jane scowls, “I felt like doing it, so I did.”

“Fair enough.” Mortum leans back in her chair. “I suppose that’s just life. Chaos and impulse until it all goes black.”

“Bleak.”

“But true.”

“I don’t know about that.” Jane’s smile is grim. “Nothing’s truly random.”

What was up with that table? How did you know that? Come to think of it, haven’t you felt that before? In the past. It was always easy to brush off before.

“There’s always a pattern,” Jane presses on. “Someone pulling the strings. If you know where to look.”

“And you do, mon amie?” Mortum smiles back.

It’s an open question how much the doctor knows. Enough, at least. More than you’d like, almost certainly. Concerns for the future. As long as her friendship with Jane keeps her on your side, you’ll make use of her skills. And there’s always a call for that. Each new day offers new opportunities. New strings to pull.

#fallen hero: rebirth #fallen hero fanfic #fanfiction #fhr/Ariadne #i'll post a bonus chapter tomorrow for my birthday i think

[hellzyeahthewebwieldingavenger]

Spider-Man: Life Story #3 Thoughts

Since I was most anticipating this issue when I read it in the solicits, I read it in the store as soon as I got it. But I always meant to take a more careful look at it when I got the chance and try to break it down a bit more.

The tl:dr version of my thoughts are: This is possible the weakest issue so far.

Massive rant under the cut.

 As discussed before the perennial problem with this series is it’s muddled concept.

Is it a What If story and if so what exactly is the zag effect to where the canon zigged? Is it that Spidey ages in real time? Or that things happen more ‘realistically’ so you have a Watchmen scenario wherein real life social issues get addressed within a superhero context?

Is it an Elseworlds wherein the idea of a more ‘realistic’ worldview is the overlayed concept a top of the familiar canon?

Is it like what the Ultimate Universe was supposed to be according to some people wherin it’s a canon-free reimagining of the original stories free to take whatever liberties it desires for the new audience?

Well Life Story thus far has tried to be all of those things and winds up being none of them. This is quite aside from how it was originally marketed as a straight What If story, what if Spider-Man aged in real time.

But really this series is best described via the convoluted descriptor of:

“It’s a story where people who love and are familiar with the canon Spider-Man’s life can see how it would’ve been different if it happened in real time.

But also how it would’ve been different if the Marvel universe was more realistically wrapped up in social political issues of the different time period.

But also if it only really cared about the international military conflicts of those time periods and mostly uses all other social political issues as window dressing.

But also that realism mentioned above only goes as far as the writers decide it should go so the actual real life ramifications of superheroes involved in international military conflicts just don’t happen because Zdarsky says so.

And also those military conflicts only impact upon Spider-Man’s life directly whenever the story decides it should so half the time things are different because of the more ‘realistic’ warfare stuff and the other half of the time it’s different because it just is...not even because he’s aging in real time.

So yeah actually it’s also a what if Spider-Man’s life included all that stuff above but also things are randomly different from the canon for the sake of it, but the reader is still supposed to be surprised because they are familiar with the canon anyway.

Oh and what if also there are massive status quo changes between issues that randomly adhere and deviate from the canon on a whim and go unexplained”

 THAT apparently...is Spider-Man Life Story.

It’s a fucking mess at this point, I cannot understand the people who are praising it.

Let me get my ONE positive comment out of the way first.

Mark Bagley is just slaughtering the art on this story.

This is the best his art on Spider-Man has looked this decade and it’s up there with some of the best of his Spider-Man career.

I think it comes from him benefitting from modern inking and colouring like in Ultimate Spider-Man but he’s drawing something that isn’t as reimagined from the canon as USM. So consequently Spider-Man’s physique is more traditional (because Spider-Man wasn’t 15 when he began his career), Venom and the villains don’t have their Ultimate designs etc.

But the story...oh fuck the story.

The ONLY way any of this adds up in terms of story decisions is if you take it as Zdarsky’s fanfiction.

I respect fanfiction, but this is amateurish in it’s decisions and it says too much about Zdarsky’s view of Spider-Man or Spider-Man aging.

The story is so cynical about how Spider-Man aging would ruin him. the story is cynical about Spider-Man’s idealization of Mary Jane or the alleged toxicity of the Peter/MJ marriage.

Like I’ve said before he has an agenda when it comes to MJ and I think this is further proof.

Peter being Spider-Man fucks up her life big time, she suffers big time, it destroys their relationship and she lives in the shadow of Gwen.

When you consider this is supposed to on some level be a representation of the spirit of 1980s Spider-Man, or at least the stories it’s choosing to remix, it becomes utterly insulting.

This is a story remixing Kraven’s Last Hunt, a love letter to the Spider-Marriage if there ever was one, and it’s used in part to destroy their relationship.

Shit Gwen’s ghost is brought up as a bone of contention between them when it was in an 1980s story (drawn by Bagley no less) that it was clearly spelled out that Peter loves his WIFE Mary Jane more than his DEAD GIRLFRIEND Gwen Stacy.

Now I know the situation here is different because Peter was with Gwen for longer than in canon and longer even than his relationship with MJ in this universe. But the fact that it’s beating that same old drum speaks very much towards the idea that this is Zdarsky’s actual assessment of that love triangle. This is like something of the bygone days of BND and Slott’s era FFS.

The bullshit doesn’t stop there though because wouldn’t you believe it Peter and MJ have twins. Okay cool. And one is called Ben and the other is called...Claire...Claire? Who the fuck is Claire? We have 2 major AU Spider-Man stories where Peter and MJ name their first daughter after Aunt May and their second after Aunt Anna! Who the Hell is Claire?

That’s just the tip of the iceberg though.

There is so much stuff in this that as a what if or an elseworld’s story utterly fails and even stuff that simply doesn’t add up within the context of this story on it’s own terms.

·         So I guess...Vietnam ended...um...how? We already established that nonsensically Vietnam lasted longer than in the real world even though it should have ended earlier by rights. But now it’s just...over. How? How did that happen? I’m not saying it’s impossible but the story NEVER ADDRESSES this?

 ·         Captain America is clearly participating in Secret Wars in 1984, taking on Doom himself no less. We see little of his face but from what we do see he’s in uniform and also seems to still be in his prime. Huh? Captain America went rogue and fought against the United States for over 10 years in Vietnam! How does he still hold the rank of Captain America and how could he possibly still be seemingly in his prime by 1984 if he’s aging in real time? Think about it, he’s older than Spider-Man physically (forget that he’s from the 1940s). And Spider-Man is saying he’s getting slower in his old age in this story. So how the Hell is Cap (who’s powers don’t slow his aging and don’t give him Spidey’s power levels) still in his prime when he’s definitely in his 40s! It doesn’t make sense! It could all be explained a million ways because it’s the Marvel universe. The Beyonder could’ve addressed all of this but the problem is the story doesn’t. It just presents it as Steve Rogers betrayed America in 1967 and fought against them into 1977 then between then and 1984...went back to being the Captain America you knew and loved in the canon Secret Wars story

 ·         Doctor Octopus...is evil again. It was nonsensical enough that he was a good guy in issue #2 but now, with no explanation, he’s back to being evil. He doesn’t even seem to give a fuck that Aunt May is dying of dementia. That even highlights the stupidity of hookig them up in issue #2, Otto never actually romantically liked May, the age gap was massive!

  ·         The story has Peter test his new costume to determine it’s a living organism and he decides to keep it because he’s getting older and wants to remain strong and relevant. Then MJ claims he’s addicted to it because he wears it a lot and then when he is buried alive by Kraven it goes to him and turns him into...Venom? There is a lot to unpack with this I need multiple points. But let’s just start with this. First of all technically the symbiote shouldn’t give you synthetic muscles as it does to Peter when it turns him into Venom. Venom had a lot of muscle because Eddie Brock was a body builder. But I won’t hold that against the story because that’s been a problem with Venom for decades now. Similarly I hate it, but I can forgive the symbiote turning Peter into a toothy Venom monster.

 ·         More significantly the implication of this story is that the costume is corruptive of Peter, making him addictive and then feeds off his anger, threatening to permantly turn him into a monster after he’s buried alive. Er....That’s not how that works. The symbiote wasn’t originally like that outside of cartoons and films. The symbiote didn’t even corrupt Eddie Brock, Brock was already sick and twisted. It’s status as a metaphor for substance abuse also didn’t come in until later and it wasn’t a factor for Peter’s personal relationship with it at all so what gives why is that in this story? Does Zdarsky think Spider-Man 1994 is canon or something?

 ·         Peter is using the symbiote sparingly and even puts it aside when he goes off web swinging before Kraven confronts him. yet we’re told he’s becoming addictive. There is little evidence of this, it could just as easily be Reed and MJ were being overly concerned. At best it’s a case of Zdarsky telling yet not showing. If Peter was truly addicted he’d have taken the suit with him.

 ·         Is the implication the suit is going to take him over when he became Venom? How does that add up? If he’s not been wearing it to avoid that how does it rescuing him from the grave = now it’s in danger of taking him over?

 ·         What is this nonsense about Peter needing the suit to remain relevant? The costume didn’t enhance his powers originally. The story isn’t even very clear on if it does that in this universe or not. They didn’t even bring up how the costume makes the wearer more durable, able to surviving being shot, which would’ve been pertinent in this tale

 ·         Why is Peter even getting weaker? He’s 37, that’s a little older than he is now in the comics

 ·         Moving on, there is this weird inconsistency where Reed asks Peter has figured out if an alien machine can nano-weld, implying Peter’s new costume is nano-tech. This would add up because he has Parker Industries in this universe and he had a nano-tech armour during that time period. Yet his outfit is still torn like cloth. How? In fact if he has nanotech armour why would he even need the symbiote?

 ·         This story confirms for us that because Reed felt responsible for Dr. Doom he pushed away his friends and family and this is a warning to Peter of what he might become, and indeed does by the end of the issue...what? How the hell does that add up. Why does Reed feel more responsible for Doom and how does this result in him pushing away his family? Because he’s aging in real time? Because of...Vietnam??????? it makes no sense

 ·         Why is Peter concerned about staying relevant to the point where he keeps a dangerous suit? In canon Tony Stark replicated the abilities of a symbiote with non-living Extremis Armour so Peter with his resources could probably make a symbiote suit that isn’t dangerous. More importantly if he has all these resources at his disposal couldn’t he either just in general make tech to help him out and compensate for his old age (Bruce Wayne has done this in different continuities) or just use his companies resources to help people out without being Spider-Man anyway?

 ·         In canon and RYV and the MC2 universe it’s made repeatedly clear that when Peter became a parent being Spider-Man would take a backseat. Yet in this universe he’s being Spider-Man MORE at the detriment of his wife, mother and children who’ve been devoid of his presence for an extended period of time. MJ is upset to the point of swearing when the issue opens. The story is so devoid of the love and affection between the pair that’s important to the mythos.

 ·         WTF is Peter’s problem about putting May in an old folks home? He did THAT in canon too IIRC in the Marv Wolfman run. Even if he had a problem with that he’s the head of a big company just HIRE people to look after her. He’s got the money for a high tech lab and nano-tech suits why is a carer for the elderly out of his price range. And isn’t MJ really rich after Harry and her split up? Why is this an issue?

 ·         How did Peter wind up with Parker Industries? In canon it was because Doc Ock founded it then manipulated things behind the scenes after Peter regained his body to make the place a success. In this story without explanation Peter just has it. But Peter is a bad businessman, having money from MJ wouldn’t mean he’d be able to successfully run a company he hasn’t the aptitude for that!

 ·         The nuclear strike is just....putting aside how cynical it is, how achingly it wants to be like Watchmen or DKR...are you honestly trying to tell me Russia’s access to superhumans never resulted in anything game changing in the world before now? There is a superhuman arms race happening but we didn’t bring it up until nearly 20 years after the first issue began and only in 1984 does anything bad happen?

 ·         The implication is actually that Russia having superheroes of their own is a recent innovation. This makes no sense as there were Russian super powered people in the 1960s, including Red Ghost who is the perpetrator of the nuclear strike in the issue

 ·         Wait, wait, wait. Russia launches nuclear missiles at the United States because there are less super humans there and this results in a town getting destroyed and...that’s it. That’s all that happens. Oh and Vision is sad and intangible.

 Are you fucking kidding me?

How does aging in real time or the existence of super humans = The stalemate of Mutually Assured Destruction isn’t a thing in this universe.

 I’m sorry to bust out the most rudimentary of 20th century history here but if America or Russia launched a nuclear strike at one another then it’d set of a chain reaction wherein everyone would launch their nukes and the most of life would be wiped out.

Zdarsky in this story displays a blisteringly ignorance of real life history to the point where it’s honestly insulting.

It’s insulting to people’s intelligence but also to the real life people who lived through the Cold War, frightened the world would end any day.

 ·         Oh boy. Now we come to Kraven. I actually re-read this the same day I finished off Hunted so I saw a really good homage to KLH back-to-back with a really bad one.

What is Kraven’s plan here?

I will grant Kraven’s plan in KLH technically speaking made no sense but we were presented his twisted perspective and it was from that perspective we were able to deduce he was viewing Spider-Man (and the world) with blinders on. And from that limited viewpoint his plan added up.

Seemingly kill Spidey. Bury him alive. Imitate him. Be a better Spider-Man than him. when he wakes up tell him he could’ve killed him and show him you are a better Spider-Man than him. Die in glorious victory, honour restored.

It’s crazy, but it makes sense from Kraven’s POV, so much so that when he killed himself real life readers took it to be glorifying suicide.

Here we don’t get Kraven’s perspective. Which wouldn’t be a problem as much if his plan and motives were the same.

But it they aren’t because in Life Story Kraven the Hunter imitates Spider-Man, drugs him and then buries him alive...because America is at war with Russia...and he has cancer...and he needs Spider-Man to be ‘beautiful’ which seemingly means...violent and probably prone to killing.

????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

I’m just....what?

The worst case scenario for this is that Zdarsky should never be allowed to write Kraven the Hunter ever because this so aggressively doesn’t seem to understand his character, his relationship with Spider-Man or Kraven’s Last Hunt.

The best case scenario, Zdarsky is a terrible writer and in his head is justifying Kraven’s actions via ‘he’s crazy so it doesn’t have to make sense so I can have the character do anything.’

Let’s unpack this.

So Kraven is imitating Spider-Man (poorly because he uses a rifle) before he buries Spider-Man alive because...um...I don’t know.

Because as with so much in this story, it’s never explained.

You’d think it’d be to draw out Spider-Man but no, that’s not it because Kraven just happens to apparently know where Spider-Man is and sneaks up on him (where the Hell was the Spider Sense?)

The he shoots at Spider-Man at very close range but Spider-Man dodges. That’d be the Spider-Man who’s so old now at age 37 he maybe needs a symbiote suit to compensate. Yeah that guy can still dodge a rifle at close range just fine...without the symbiote.

Oh but then his old age catches up with him because Kraven stabs him.

Let me repeat that.

The old man, with no super powers (as he wants to remind us) who is also dying of cancer is able to stab the much younger super fast and agile guy with a precognitive danger sense.

What.

The.

Fuck.

Do you see?

Do you see how bad this series is?

This would be inexcusable writing even if we weren’t comparing it to canon!

But we aren’t done. Because remember how I said Kraven is old and has no powers? Yeah...why is Kraven old and hasn’t got any powers?

Kraven’s powers 100% grant him super human strength, speed, agility, the usual package of super powers.

It’s nowhere close to Spider-Man’s power level no, but it is beyond human nevertheless.

And KLH itself established that Kraven’s jungle herbs and potions make retard his aging immensely. In fact as real life time elapses their abilities to do this grow greater since he was a not yet an adult at the time of the 1917 Russian Revolution but looked to be in his 30s circa 1987 when KLH was originally published. As time goes by KLH didn’t happen in 1987 but much later so Kraven seriously doesn’t age! It’s to the point where he was part of a 1950s Avengers team in canon.

I get that Zdarsky in his alternate universe can take the characters in different directions but you aren’t even getting the super powers of the super heroes and villains right here!

But it gets worse.

So Kraven is doing this because after so many years in America he regards it as his home?

Fuck...Off.

Kraven the Hunter would never  think that way. Kraven finds America’s ways decadent. He hates them because they lack the kind of jungle and animalistic honour he holds so dear. This is spelled out in the goddam story Zdarsky is homaging.

What? Is the implication Kraven’s cancer is affecting his brain thus making him a totally different person?

If pressed Kraven might choose America over Russia but only because ‘Mother Russia’ destroyed his family in the Russian Revolution. But I’m not convinced Kraven would take a side in general, so much as he’d regard it beneath him or just the law of the jungle playing out on a bigger scale.

But. It. Gets. Worse.

Kraven’s motivation in trying to make Spider-Man ‘beautiful’ again, into a warrior again is akin to Zdarsky gluing in a character from a story we’ve not been reading into this one.

When the Hell in this mini-series was it ever implied Spider-Man was a warrior, a killer, someone violent the way Kraven wants him to be?

It’s even stupider when you consider Kraven says America hasn’t got a real hero, i.e. a real warrior who is willing to kill and be violent because...Wolverine literally appears in this comic.

Hulk appears in this comic.

Captain America appears in this comics.

Iron Man appears in this comic

THOR appears in this comic. Thor, the Viking WARRIOR God!

What is he talking about!??????????

BUT. IT. GETS. WORSE!

Because Kraven after burying Spider-Man proceeds to go around continuing to impersonate Spider-Man (for some reason without his gun now).

Why?

In KLH it made sense.

But WTF is Kraven’s motive in pretending to be Spider-Man in this story at all?

Why was he doing it before and what is his motive in doing it after burying Spider-Man?

He isn’t trying to make himself superior to Spider-Man now.

Peter isn’t even mad ABOUT Kraven impersonating him (which he was in KLH) so Kraven wasn’t doing it to rile him up.

WHY?????????????

BUT IT GETS WORSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Spider-Man only survives being buried alive because of the symbiote.

But Kraven couldn’t have known about that so his plan was either to

a)      Genuinely send Spider-Man out the way of a warrior...by drugging him and burying him alive to slowly suffocate...how noble...Or

b)      Burying him alive with the expectation he’d get out and be so angry he’d become a murderer and this would magically mean becoming old and weak wouldn’t be a problem any more.

*smashes head against desk*

·         Not to mention, a Venom empowered angry Spider-Man shoves the old, non-superpowered, dying of cancer Kraven’s head into a brick wall and...he’s fine. He’s not even dazed or bleeding.

 ·         What was the point of giving Kraven cancer? Like how does it make the story better? How does it at all play into anything? All I can think is that Zdarsky is weirdly planning on using it as a substitute for Eddie Brock’s cancer because he’s going to make Kraven Venom instead of Brock. Speaking of which

 ·         Apparently if Spider-Man ages in real time this would mean that Kraven the Hunter would become Venom instead of Eddie Brock one of Spider-Man’s most iconic villains ever. What?

 ·         Just to be clear this is a retelling of Spider-Man’s history where Eddie Brock isn’t Venom and where Kraven doesn’t kill himself. Way to ruin 2 iconic characters at once there Zdarsky

 ·         It’s implied a major part of what motivates MJ and Peter to break up (because again there is clearly  no agenda here at all) is that MJ had to risk possibly killing him with the sonic weapon when the symbiote sent him out of control.

 Okay, first of all Reed Richard had sonic weapons that could be rid of the symbiote without killing the host. The only way that could happen is if they were permanently bonded which Peter clearly wasn’t. So how comes with all his tech Peter invented a potentially lethal solution?

Second of all, he entrusts this to his...wife...and the mother of his children....um...Why not entrust it to an employee? Or Reed? Or Johnny?

Johnny is his best friend in the superhero community and his natural super powers give him an advantage against the symbiote. Reed already knows the risks and surely if Reed knows who he is then Johnny does too.

Or maybe Spider-Man ‘aging in real time’ results in Spider-Man and Johnny not being friends because...er...reasons. Seriously Peter is closer to Reed than Johnny in this continuity what the fuck.

Regardless, he’s entrusting a normal human woman with no combat skills to take down an out of control super powered being. And he’s entrusting she could bring herself to potentially kill  him as well.

Reed and Johnny might be friendly with him up to a point, but surely they’d find the prospect of killing him easier than Peter’s wife!

 My final point is this.

Maybe there is something coming to address this problem but we’re three issues in and I have to ask...what is the point of all the war stuff?

Spider-Man is a street level, personal story right? It’s about a normal guy, not a soldier. It’s about regular crime and social group tensions and romance and rent and smaller scale things like that.

So why is there such a focus in this story upon Vietnam, superheroes in Vietnam and the nuclear arms race with Russia?

Even Spider-man vs. Wolverine played things more low key than this.

This is a Spider-Man  story where a bona fide massive plot point is Russia nuking a town.

Just like...what is the point of this?

Why are we using a Spider-Man story about his life in real time to explore (badly) the horrors of war?

If you want to do that then actually finish the Spider-Nam mini-series!

Fuck this story!

P.S. Why were MJ and Peter casual about mentioning Spider-Man in front of Aunt May? Learning a bombshell like that could harm her health and in her state she could let something slip.

#Chip Zdarsky #Mark Bagley #Spider-Man #Peter Parker #Venom #Kraven the Hunter #mjwatsonedit #Mary Jane Watson Parker #Mary Jane Watson #mj watson #eddie brock #Aunt May #May Parker #Spider-Man: Life Story #Reed Richards

[lottes-ocs]

one chapter (first chapter maybe? def towards the beginning though) of my story. i turned it in for a workshop in class (capped at 12 pages double spaced). a note from my workshop document:

“Since this is going to be a longer work, I will likely expand upon Adam’s personal and inner life towards the beginning, so that the breakdown and the subsequent conversation with Ezra don���t feel as sudden. I will definitely add more documents like the emails, maybe therapist’s notes or text messages, and I might play around with POV in some later chapters, however, my plan is for Adam to be the primary narrator throughout.”

also lmk if i get anything egregiously wrong. i do have ptsd myself, but i also consulted 2 of my schizophrenic friends to make sure i didn’t include any details that would conflict with that and also to get details about antipsychotics correct

tw for suicide mentions, mental illness, unreality, some graphic imagery.

[January 21st, 2019 // 9:00 AM] Since I got discharged from the hospital last month, I’ve been grateful to live alone. Granted, it makes the paranoia worse, but I’m the only one who needs to know how often I’ve tried to talk to shadows or woken up yelling at the void. And I’m the only one who needs to know that I, a 30-year-old man, have been sleeping with a nightlight. But look, when my room is completely dark, mirages of my father and Dr. Wronski appear in the corner with their faces peeled off like in an autopsy and they won’t stop apologizing. I tell them I forgive them and they double down, I offer them solace and they weep with guilt, I articulate my own guilt and they articulate what it feels like to die. Only the nightlight makes them go away. Does that all sound stupid? Sure it does, but it feels a lot less stupid when I just need some sleep after another day trying to balance crushing grief with debilitating mental illness with my normal-person job, teaching abnormal psychology. Classes have been back in session since last week, so for a week, I’ve felt like a fish teaching marine biology. Or something out of Mariana’s trench. Ezra walks into my office, looking just a little too put-together for the workday (as usual), perfectly-tailored pants, perfectly ironed shirt, and perfectly styled curls, and snaps me out of my self-pitying daze by setting down a large stack of papers on his desk next to mine. “The anxiety essays,” he says with an imperious sigh. “Was I this dumb in undergrad?” “Probably not,” I say. “You were a little older than them.” “And I actually had anxiety.” He’s made a point of bringing up his own issues since I got back. I think he’s doing it so I don’t feel embarrassed or isolated, but he does love to talk about himself regardless, and besides, the support of one grad student doesn’t outweigh the nastiness of some of the higher-ups. “Do you have any new bits, Ezra?” I try to change the subject to his comedy (he does standup on the side, and I hear he’s not bad). “Eh, nothing good. You look tired.” He brushes me off with forced nonchalance. “I’ve had plenty of work to catch up on.” There’s actually no reason that he should know why I was gone, it’s my business, but he definitely does. Everyone does. I work in the psych department, so the people here know what it means when someone’s witnessed the death of their mentor and is subsequently out for a month with no further explanation than “illness.” “Have you, uh…” he clicks his tongue in thought. “Did you drink coffee this morning?” I nod with an exasperated smile. “Well, y’know, the Keurig’s in the lounge if you need it. And I’m in 522 most of today if you need help. Catching up on work, or whatever.” He drums casually on the doorframe, shoots me finger-guns, and heads down the hall. I like Ezra. He’s my TA now, but we were both in grad school working towards our doctorates together, up until last spring, when I received mine. We’re the same age, and he’s definitely smarter than me (as he is most people), he just started college late. I think it’s very sweet of him not to be a condescending dick to me (I seem to be a popular target for condescending dicks lately) especially because Ezra can muster up a dangerous amount of condescending dickishness when he feels the need. However, I process absolutely none of what he said. I was listening, I was trying to listen anyway, but my head’s not working right, not right now. I really didn’t get enough sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. The hallucinations and intrusive thoughts keep me up, the lack of sleep worsens the severity of the hallucinations and intrusive thoughts. In fact, since I arrived at work forty-five minutes ago, I have kept a mental tally: Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab myself: 3 instances. Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab Dr. Carlisle for looking at me weird: 2 instances (fuck off, it’s not like I’m going to act on it). Sudden and overwhelming urge to break down crying: 45 instances. Rats underneath my desk: Yeah, I don’t know, I called maintenance and they told me they’re fake, so I guess they’re fake, even though I can see them. Hanging woman in the back corner of my office: Don’t mind her, she’ll be gone within the hour. I’ll be sorry to see her go, though. A sense of unreality is creeping in. I try to keep Dr. Beauchamp’s voice in my head, “if there shouldn’t be any real dead people in the room, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room.” Well, there was that one time, you asshole. No, fuck it, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room. I reach into my briefcase, desperate for the pill bottle, because I know my thoughts are going to turn into alphabet soup if I don’t do something soon. I split a Clozaril tablet in half and swallow it hastily. I am not supposed to split it in half, and I am not supposed to take more than one dose in a span of 24 hours, and I have a Ph.D. in psychology, obviously I know I’m lowering the efficacy in the long term and increasing my risk of side effects. But at this point, let me die of agranulocytosis if that’s what I’ve got coming. I’ll be out of a job and wasting eleven years of higher education if this shit doesn’t stop. Maybe that isn’t true. It feels true. Maybe it isn’t.

[January 21st, 2019 // 1:30 PM] FROM: Dr. Raymond Carlisle TO: Dr. Adam Collins SUBJECT: Checking in.

Dr. Collins, I sincerely hope all is well. I received word that you cancelled a lecture today. I need hardly tell you that you just had a month off for Winter Break, and two weeks before that for the beginning of your hospitalization. I hardly think an even further extended reprieve from your work is fair, and if you genuinely do, that’s a conversation we need to have. To be frank, Dr. Herrmann and I feel it is irresponsible to allow someone in your condition to continue to work, in the field of psychology no less. Though I do not at all doubt the competence of our colleagues at the medical center, nor your mental facilities, I feel compelled to let you know that if your psychological state continues to cause issues with your work the department might require you to take a leave of absence. While I hope your treatment plan begins to work to its full effect soon, your own safety and the integrity of this department are top priority.

Best wishes, truly,

Dr. Raymond Carlisle Head Professor, Psychology [phone]

My hands tremble with anger (and hopefully not tardive dyskinesia) as I type my reply.

FROM: Dr. Adam Collins TO: Dr. Raymond Carlisle SUBJECT: Re: Checking In

Dr. Carlisle, all is as well as it possibly can be needs to be. I don’t respect you as a colleague and I believe your total comfort in your new position, which I need hardly remind you is Dr. Wronski’s old position, is quite frankly borderline disrespectful.  If it’s irresponsible for someone in “my condition” to continue to work then why do you give a shit if I cancel my lectures? Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll mention you by name in my suicide note.   At the moment, it is difficult for me walk by Dr. Wronski’s old office, which I have to do to get to 525 (where that lecture is held). Could I request a change of   I was having a panic attack you absolute dick how are YOU allowed to continue to work in the field of psychology when you have NO compassion My new medication has occasionally been making me sick. That issue should be resolved either way after I meet with my psychiatrist next week.

Thank you for your concern, Dr. Adam Collins Department of Psychology

[January 22nd, 2019 // 10:30 AM] I think back to our last faculty meeting, at least my last faculty meeting, in November. It does feel like a while ago, and it’s hard to fathom that Dr. Wronski was still here then. It gets easier to fathom when Dr. Carlisle comes in and takes his seat at the head of the conference table, simply because of how wrong that is. I picture her there instead, how things are supposed to be, how it should have been. I think about how someone should have helped her when they still could have. I really picture her there instead for a moment, her image replacing Carlisle’s. I blink once and she’s gone, and he’s back. As he starts talking, though, I feel a tap on my shoulder and see her behind me for a split second, ephemeral and transparent like the dots in a grid illusion, then she walks away and disappears. My whole body is left feeling cold, sharp, and jolted, as if I fell on a blade without expecting to. I’m filled with dread as I realize Carlisle’s words are simultaneously turning to nonsense and growing louder in my ears, and a high, harsh noise like microphone feedback intertwines itself with his voice. Dr. Wronski reappears in his place again, but she is lifeless this time, blood pooling from her head like it was when I found her, circling her hair in a grim halo. Her eyes are clouded with even more film, her mouth is agape, and I can feel my breathing grow rapid. I squeeze my eyes shut. I know I am in the middle of a meeting; I will not fall apart like this in the middle of a meeting, not when my “mental facilities” are already being called into question. I pinch myself, internally repeating “there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here—” “Dr. Collins, are you with us?” Dr. Hermann’s voice pierces through my mantra, entirely unfriendly, entirely accusatory, despite the faux-sweetness she is trying to summon. “Yes.” My voice sounds thin and weak, and blood rushes to my face. I shut my eyes again, since I feel tears prickling at the corners of them. Not fucking here, Jesus Christ, not fucking here, I think to myself. Then I think again about my last meeting, the old hierarchy, the time when I fell asleep at one of these in October after a particularly long night and Dr. Wronski just pulled me aside afterwards and asked if I was okay, and if there was anything she could do. And now the image of her corpse won’t leave my head. It overwhelms me. I don’t see her in the room anymore, but I might as well be back in her office when I first found her body, the first time in my life I had ever truly hoped that I was only seeing a figment of my imagination. The gun in her hand— I try to think of anything else. Anything to keep it at bay. I click my pen repeatedly (Carlisle asks me to stop), I scratch at my wrists and pull at my skin, anything to shift my focus to anything else. Nothing is working. The lump in my throat grows. My heartbeat gets faster, my chest starts to hurt, and suddenly I can smell the blood and rot that permeated the room that night, and I am helpless to stop it— Someone grabs me. I look up to see every eye in the room on me. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, and I realize I’m in the middle of this meeting, crying and having a full-on panic attack, surrounded by people who already think I’m a headcase. I am sobbing and shaking and unable to steady my breathing and to them it seems completely unprompted at best, and at worst, it seems like it’s because Hermann and Carlisle snapped at me. And even in the midst of my abject humiliation, the image of Dr. Wronski lying in a pool of her own blood is still in my head, still absolutely fucking killing me, and I couldn’t calm down if I tried. I get up and walk out. That’s what fucking happens when I’m forced to try to power through episodes. I could care less what Carlisle does to me right now, I will not stay in there and continue to look like an emotionally unstable baby in front of my colleagues. I go to finish up my breakdown in the privacy of my office, catching a glimpse of myself in a window on the way and hating myself even more at the sight of my own disheveled hair and bright red, tear-streaked face. I sit down and hide underneath my desk, pop another half-a-Clozaril tablet that I try not to choke back up (I’m still hyperventilating so hard I could vomit), and bury my face in my arms. “Adam?” I look up. “Ezra.” I am barely composed, still hyperventilating, swiping at my eyes furiously and futilely. I look away, and I hope maybe he’ll think I’m just sick. I expect him to walk away, pretend that he never saw me like this and just silently let it color his perception of me. But he comes and sits down next to me underneath the desk. I don’t know what to say. “Do you want me to go?” he asks, after a moment. “You don’t have to.” I don’t want to admit it, but I don’t really want him to. Nobody else is this understanding with me anymore. I keep trying to collect myself, barely noticing at first when he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?” I shake my head, still not making eye contact. Theoretically, I’m getting the help I need, and maybe I do need the support of a friend right now too, but I don’t want to trouble him. Besides, I must look pathetic, cowering under a table and weeping, almost comically vulnerable. Hm. “Ezra,” I turn to him, finally, after a few more minutes of whimpering. I know my eyes look crazy, bloodshot to hell. “Can you take me to a mic?” “A mic?” “Yes. A standup mic. I want to see what it’s like.” “Really?” he smirks. “Yes, why not?” I can’t think of the last time I laughed, at least not genuinely. I can’t think of the last time I let myself. My self-loathing has become entirely unfunny, my psyche and my job both absolute nightmares, not to mention the actual nightmares—I need something light. Something just a little bit light. “You would… enjoy that?” “Yeah.” It makes me sad that he seems surprised, though I can’t blame him. I’ve been awfully serious, not even just for the past week or month, but probably since my dad died last spring. He reads my disappointment. “Sorry, Adam, I just… do you like comedy?” “I don’t know. My therapist laughs at my jokes sometimes.” He smiles at that, and I smile too, through dissipating tears. “Well, if you really want to, yeah. The next one is Thursday night.” I nod and take a deep breath. I realize Ezra hasn’t taken his hand off my shoulder, and he is absent-mindedly rubbing circles into my back. Maybe it’s stupid, but I stay as still as I can. I don’t want him to notice that he’s doing it and stop. “Is everyone there funny?” I ask, just to keep his focus. It’s a dumb question. I rephrase myself, “How funny is everyone?” He exhales a chuckle. “Honestly? About thirty people go up every night, sometimes more. They’re mostly shit. Don’t worry, though, there’s plenty to laugh at with the shitty ones.” He proceeds to tell me about the guys who show up high every time and just get up on stage and talk about nonsense (or weed itself) for 5 minutes, the wannabe Dangerfields and Seinfelds and Mulaneys who “never actually managed to glean what joke structure is” (though to be fair, It’s not like I have either), even the bigoted old men still trying with unflinching determination to resurrect “get back in the kitchen” jokes. I am losing myself in his stories, feeling at least marginally more relaxed, when Carlisle appears in my doorway. Ezra takes his hand off my back. Carlisle glances at us with confusion and disgust. “Dr. Collins, if you would please… get up and come see me in my office.” “We’re actually grading papers right now,” Ezra shoots back, in a tone of voice that says “yes, I think you’re stupid.” “Take a break, please,” Carlisle replies, glaring and exiting. I look hesitantly at Ezra, before getting up to follow him. “I do want to come,” I say. “To a mic.” “We’ll talk more later. I should still be here after you’re done facing the wrath of god.” I know I’m about to get chewed out to an extreme degree. Still, I can’t help but grin back at him.

#psychology story

[elspethsunschampion]

awkwardness is in the eye of the beholder

@sundayswiththeilluminati I blame you for linking me to this. 

A/N: The first two lines are gratuitously stolen from the above link.

      “So I’m going to start this interview off super non-awkward and ask you guys if you are aware that the internet ships you two?”

           Newt blinks at the interviewer, trying to process the number of things going through his head at the same time. Among them are, ‘yes, because I exist on the internet,’ and ‘is there a reason they shouldn’t?’ and ‘why exactly would you think this would be awkward?’ Except then he realizes that Hermann actually might think this is pretty awkward, and he drums his fingers against his chairs and sends a glance sliding sideways towards his coworker.

           But Hermann is just smiling, a slightly bemused smile. “Excellent taste,” he murmurs gently, and he’s probably trying to downplay it, honestly. Newt squirms in his seat, because he’s not sure what else to say, but frankly he thinks that was kind of an uncool question, when you really come down to it.

           “You know that the two of us, uh, like, we’re not hermits?” he says. Trying to avoid the edge that he’s afraid is creeping into his voice, he pushes out a laugh that he thinks sounds pretty genuine. “I mean, I’ve got a Facebook, a Twitter, like, three Tumblrs—” he just barely stops himself from mentioning the AO3 account, because mentioning the Tumblr is probably bad enough. “Like, yeah, I guess it’s a little weird in the sense that, you know, shipping real people is always a little weird, but where do you draw the line, right? Like, you get someone writing historical fiction with real people, and that has romance in it, sometimes with people who actually existed, and then, you know, it gets kind of—”

           “Newt—” Hermann interrupts him, because, oh, he’s kind of rambling, isn’t he, and that’s maybe a little weird. Shoot.

           “Yeah, sorry.” He shoots the interviewer an apologetic smile. “Anyways, yeah, we’re aware.”

           She looks a little put-off, but probably they briefed her beforehand. Heroes Newt and Hermann may be, but there’s a reason they’re usually not doing the interviews. Hermann is notoriously nervous of public speaking, and while Newt isn’t so much, he will just say whatever floats to the top of his head, no matter how much time somebody from PR has spent telling him what he should and shouldn’t say.

           “So, why do you think that is?” the interviewer rallies, plastering a smile onto her face. Newt squirms again. Probably because I’m stupidly in love with Hermann and really really unsubtle about it, is not something he can afford to say, not in front of the millions of people watching this, and, more importantly, not in front of Hermann himself. Their friendship survived a drift involving a bunch of monsters, he doesn’t need it to be destroyed by embarrassment in front of all these viewers.

           “Would you be asking this question of Mr. Beckett and Miss Mori?” Hermann asks quietly. “Or perhaps I should say, would you regard it as an awkward revelation if you were speaking with a heterosexual pair?”

           “I, um.” The interviewer shuffles, as if she hasn’t thought about this way before, but she gives him a small, awkward smile. “I’m sorry, I was trying to dial the tension down over this question, but I think I’ve made it worse. Would you prefer we move on?”

           Oh, god, yes. Newt wants to bury his face in his hands, but he doesn’t.

           “I, er.” Beside him, Hermann is taking a long, deep breath. “I do think the question of why people might—see something romantic blossoming between us is—well, it’s rather invasive, I suppose, but such interviews usually are. It’s no worse a question than many; I merely objected to the way it was asked.”

           And that is definitely not what Newt expected, and now he’s going to have to say something. “Well, you know,” he blurts, “People are really bad at distinguishing different kinds of closeness, you know? I mean, what’s the difference between romance and friendship, right? It’s kind of just a sliding scale, and Hermann and I are really close, obviously—I mean we’re drift compatible, even if we do drive each other crazy, and we just, everyone knows that we get on really well, when, when we’re not trying to bite each other’s heads off, I guess.”

           He has to concentrate on not pulling his shoulders in and trying to make himself look small; all of a sudden his ears are hot and he can hear everything that’s going on. He can hear himself breathing, for fuck’s sake, and the high buzz of the equipment, and, oh, he really can’t afford an overload right now. If that’s the term, he doesn’t really know, but “sensory overload” sure seems to capture the fact that his senses seem to be, well, overloading, whenever this happens. Maybe it’s just a panic attack. Whatever.

           “I mean, I do love Newt; that’s hardly a secret.” Wait. What. Rewind, rewind, rewind, replay, what?

           “What?” Newt interjects, and Hermann stares at him blankly.

           “You are aware of how I feel about you?” he says, in a slightly choked voice that’s Hermann’s Very Patient Voice that he uses whenever Newt’s being particularly annoying or obtuse.

           “Um, you like me? We’re friends. Yeah?”

           Hermann’s gaze slides uneasily back towards the interviewer, then back to Newt’s. “How could you not—we Drifted, you imbecile!”

           “What, you know how I feel about you?” Newt says, in what’s supposed to be sort of a jovial tone of voice, only it comes out very small and terrified, because he thought he’d managed to keep that secret, somehow, even if he’s not really certain how.

           “You—” Hermann pauses, swivels in his chair, blinking. “I—well, I’ve been assuming you view me as a close friend. I admit, I found it odd that I never touched those feelings during our Drift, but I assumed you’d understood my own feelings, since I didn’t think I’d be able to hide them and therefore, I—didn’t really try.”

           “What!” screeches Newt. “Dude!” Is Hermann really saying what he seems to be saying? Newt’s head’s going around and around, and the noises are getting louder, and his chest’s so tight that if he didn’t know what a panic attack feels like he’d think he was having a heart attack. Everything starts to get wavery and dark around the edges of his vision. This is exactly the wrong time for this, he knows, but focusing on his breathing just isn’t doing what he needs it to. Fuck, he needs a Xanax or something.

           There’s a pressure on his hand, the concerned voice of the interviewer speaking, and, above that, Hermann’s voice sounding, an oddly calm monotone. Then there’s movement, bright and dark patterns moving in front of his eyes, someone yelling. Someone else tugs at his hand, puts a hand on his shoulder, and there’s a water bottle in front of him. “Damn it, Newt, take a drink, will you,” Hermann’s voice says, irritably, and it cuts through the miasma enough to allow him to gulp down a couple swallows of lukewarm water.

           It takes a while, but his breathing starts to even out, and, trembling, he puts his face in his hands. “Shit,” he says, as soon as his vocal cords decide to function. “Shit. Sorry. Shit.”

           “Is it really that terrifying a revelation?” Hermann bites out, and he sounds stripped of emotion, bleak, raw.

           “Yes! No! Dude, I thought—” He has to get this out, now; he can’t let Hermann keep thinking this is somehow his fault or whatever. “I thought that’s how it was, only the other way round?”

           There’s a very long pause, during which Newt’s breathing calms down enough that he’s able to peek out from between his hands and look up at Hermann. His friend has an extremely peculiar look on his face; there’s a slight flush adorning his high cheekbones and the tips of his ears. “Ah,” he says. “Hrm.”

           “I’m so sorry, Doctor Geiszler!” the interviewer puts in, sounding a little horrified. Oh. Right.

           “Uh, are we still, uh, live?” Newt asks.

           “No, no,” she replies soothingly. “We cut to another story.”

           And that’s better than the alternative, Newt supposes, but great. Now he’s made a complete idiot out of himself on national TV. “Sorry,” he mutters. “Uh.” He looks back at Hermann. “That was definitely not how I expected today to go.”

           “Nor I.” Hermann edges closer to him. “Erm. Perhaps we should do follow-up interview?” He looks as if he’s swallowed a lemon.

           “Probably,” Newt sighs miserably. “So, in case you hadn’t figured it out yet, I kind of have a panic disorder,” he mutters in the general direction of the interviewer. “And, um, I thought it was under control, since, y’know, we dealt with the whole apocalypse, but apparently, it, uh, it wasn’t? So much?”

           “I’m sure we can reschedule as necessary,” the interviewer says. “My—my sincerest apologies about this.”

           “I, uh. Apology accepted, but I’m kind of glad this happened?” Newt says hopefully, looking over at Hermann, who gives him a surprised, shy smile.

           “I suppose it was rather serendipitous,” he allows.

           “C’mon, Hermann, I can’t believe you just assumed—”

           “You did precisely the same thing, you do not have a leg to stand on—”

           They’re leaning closer and closer until Newt can feel Hermann’s breath on his lips. Well, they’re not live anymore. He leans forward quickly, just brushing their lips together. Hermann sucks in his breath in shock, then reaches forward and just lays his hand on Newt’s knee. “Perhaps we’d better reschedule, then,” he says, quietly.

           “Oh, shit.” Newt gropes for his phone. “My Twitter’s gonna blow up.” And let’s not even start on what’s going to show up on my AO3.

           “Can’t you put that thing away for half a second?”

           Newt rolls his eyes, but he shoves it back into his pocket. “Only for you, babe.”’            “Thank you,” Hermann says primly, but he gives Newt that shy smile again, and, oh god, Newt thinks he’d probably walk through fire for that look. Well, he probably would’ve walked through fire for Hermann anyway? But moreso, now.

           “We’ll be in contact,” the interviewer says faintly, sounding a bit poleaxed. Newt’s kind of sympathetic. He’s also feeling a bit poleaxed, but also he’s starting to suspect he’s about to be on cloud nine, so that’s pretty cool.

           “We should get dinner?” he suggests.

           “It is one-thirty in the afternoon,” Hermann says severely.

           Oh. “Lunch, then?”

           Pause. Deep breath. “Yes, all right. We do have a lot to talk about.”

           “Yeah,” Newt agrees. “Yeah. We do.”

#pacific rim #fanfiction #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #tw panic attacks #fuck sorry i forgot to tag with the tw before i'm an idiot #tagged it on ao3 #my writing

[stripesthesupervillain]

Mad Hatter's quirks relating to the Lewis Carrol books

Traits directly from the book:

These are just a reference for me to look at for future Batman fanfiction and shitposts because I want to get them right, and perhaps for anyone who hasn’t read the book Alice in Wonderland, or its sequel, Through the Looking Glass. If Jervis is truly trying to mirror the Hatter to the letter, he should get all of these. 

If you want to see the traits alluded to instead, they’re under the cut. If you’re interested in some of my personal headcanons, they’re also just under the cut.

Anyways, here we go.

- According to illustrations, he’s small and wears a proper dress shirt, coat, and bowtie, along with a large hat with a card stuck in the top reading “In this style 10/6”

- The Hatter appears in chapter 7 and 11 of the book, Alice in Wonderland. He’s with the March Hare and the Dormouse, who can be perceived as his best friends.

- In Through the Looking Glass, he actually makes a small appearance, and is one of the four reoccurring characters, the others being the Hare, Alice, and her real cat, Dinah. He’s referenced being in a prison/dungeon (no idea why) in chapter 5, but you meet him in chapter 7, where he’s inexplicably let out of prison (again, no idea why) and watching a lion and a unicorn duke it out.

- Also on that note, he isn’t called the Hatter, he’s called Hatta. The March Hare is called Haigha (pronounced Hayor) (get it? Hare?), and they’re both messengers for the white king but it’s clear they’re the same characters; they’re practically best friends, and Hatta is seen always sipping tea and eating bread, and is depicted as wearing the same exact hat as before. So yeah, he can also go by Hatta, and will sometimes call the Hare “Haigha”. No Dormouse, though.

- If you attempt to sit down uninvited at his table, he’ll shout “No room! No room!” even if there’s tons of room available.

- If you sit down without his invitation, he’ll be grumpy. Even though the Hare does this, Jervis can offer you wine even if there’s no wine at the table, calling you out for sitting without an invitation.

- He has an odd need to cut Alice’s hair. “Your hair wants cutting.”

- “Why is a raven like a writing desk?” This is the most common question he’ll ask people. Those who get it right will put him in good spirits with them.

- The answer to the riddle, by the way, is “I haven’t the slightest idea” or just saying you don’t know. There is no answer. Lewis Carroll never came up with an answer until a bunch of fans of his work wrote to him, so Jervis stays faithful to the book.

- He’ll easily confuse you if you contradict yourself. For example, when Alice says that “I mean what I say” is the same thing as “I say what I mean”, the Hatter replies with the notion that it’s like saying “I see what I eat” is the same as “I eat what I see”.

- He has a pocketwatch that tells the day, month, and year instead of the time. And it’s two days off.

- He can’t tell the time because he believes that it’s 6:00 all the time. This is because Time, who is described as a person, doesn’t like him, and thus stopped moving for him.

- 6:00 was British tea time back then, which explains his obsession with tea.

- He loves stories, and will demand one from others.

- He also sings. Yes, he sings. “Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you’re at. Up above the world you fly, like a tea tray in the sky.” Luckily, that’s all.

- He’s also no stranger to rude remarks, even calling Alice stupid at one point.

- There’s a point where he tries to shove the oversized Dormouse into a teapot. I like this idea because I like imagining Jervis grabbing Riddler by the hair and slamming his head into a teapot.

- He collects hats to sell them, so he has a large variety.

- He has a large fear of the King and Queen of Hearts. In fact he gets extremely anxious in these situations when under a lot of pressure and fumbles when he speaks to the point where he even fucks up a few of his movements, biting a piece out of a teacup instead of his bread.

- This is a rule for practically everyone in the book: if someone is trying to make sense of things, they’re automatically an idiot. If you try to reason with something weird Jervis says, he’ll probably think your stupid. That’s the attitude of almost every character in the book.

Jervis’ possible quirks according to the books:

These aren’t particularly attributed to the Mad Hatter, but can be used as references that are good to know. Most of these are about Alice or Wonderland in general.

- Alice prefers picture books, so, being in a place of imagination, it would make sense the Mad Hatter would like them more. However, being a genius, he will read regular books if he really must. He just finds them boring.

- Despite speaking more than proper English, there are some made up words sometimes from the book that Alice or the characters use, like the infamous phrase “Curiouser and curiouser,” which was a word made up and coined by Lewis Carroll. Though, it’s not considered a legit word. Examples also include “pleasanter”. Some are just completely made up, like “brillig” (meaning 4 o’ clock), or “mimsy” (a cross between flimsy and miserable). Expect Jervis to use a few of those.

- The metaphors are very odd and almost always come from the books, and are hard to understand. For example, “shutting up like a telescope” means to get smaller. 

- At one point, Alice gets confused about who she is, believing herself to be another little girl instead of Alice. It would make sense for the Mad Hatter to call other people he believes to be “Alice” by that name, believing they’re just confused over who they are.

- He’ll sometimes speak to animals as if they’re people. Does he expect them to answer? Maybe.

- Alice is actually learning French. It would make sense for Jervis to deliberately learn French for this purpose. He just might be bilingual.

- Alice carries around a box of comfits and enjoys marmalade. Jervis might be more favorable to sweets.

- Most of the denizens of Wonderland are animals, so it can be guessed that Jervis would have a love of them.

- “We’re all mad here,” says the Cheshire Cat. Jervis could very well know he’s nuts and just rolls with it. Hell, he might even desire it, possibly refusing psychoactive treatment.

- Flowers can talk, too. Yeah. Apparently, the only reason they don’t is because the ground is too soft. Jervis might speak to flowers or something. He doesn’t speak to daisies, because they’re annoying.

- In fact, pretty much everything can talk to him.

- Not trees, though. Trees bark. *wink*

- The Looking Glass world is actually a separate world, where everything is backwards. The more practice you have riding a horse, the more you fall off it; if you want to stay in the same place, you have to run as fast as you can; you have to pass around a cake for everyone to eat before you cut into it. Those sorts of things. So if you get thirsty, expect a dry-ass biscuit for refreshments, because yeah, that happens, too. If Jervis believes he’s in this world, the things he says might make even less sense than before, and he might demand you call him “Hatta”.

- Being a messenger in Through The Looking Glass, that might contribute a bit to his character. Maybe he’ll talk about serving the white king or, y’know, going to prison, or how he needs to get the drums to “drum” the lion and unicorn out of town after watching their fight. Yeah, it’s a weird book.

- Some of the sayings in the book can be interpreted differently, and some of the poems can get kinda dark. You might see him use those to express his opinion or mood. 

Personal headcanons:

- It’s already been established he’s short as fuck, but hey.

- Jervis names every supervillian and hero in Gotham after a character in the book. For example, Jonathan is the March Hare, Batman is the Jabberwocky, Joker is the Queen of Hearts and Harley is the king, things like that. Anyone who’s a doctor or police officer or just a citizen are usually reserved to the rolls of “Cardsmen” or “soldiers” or just “chess pieces” and “pawns”.

- He has very proper English and uses complex vocabulary, as well as made-up words from the book. The only ones who can really understand him completely are Scarecrow, Riddler, and Batman, who have read the books front to back to understand him.

- He has a copy of Alice’s Adventures with him at all times. He’ll hand it to someone if they can’t understand what he’s talking about. Scarecrow dubs it “Jervis’ dictionary”.

- To calm himself down from a particularly harsh schizophrenic episode, he hums some of the rhymes from the books.

- The rhymes and phrases he mutters to himself when it gets quiet also dictate what mood he’s in. Usually he’s pretty cheerful, but the poems get darker as the more disgruntled or sadistic he feels.

- He’s prone to suddenly stopping himself in random conversations and quiet situations to squeal that he’s late or needs to deliver a message or something like that. He’ll continue to freak out for a good thirty seconds before calming down and continuing to talk like nothing happened.

- No one actually knows what he’s late for, but reminding him of it is a good way to stop him in his tracks for a good few seconds. The only time this doesn’t work is with a serious event going on or if he’s upset.

- His most prized possessions are his hat and his copy of Alice in Wonderland, but in case those are every destroyed, he has, like, twenty other duplicates at home.

-He is bilingual in both French and English.

- He’ll take a hammer to any copy of the Burton movies he comes across.

- He owns a Tiger lily that he likes to talk to. He keeps it watered and generally well kept.

- Many of the sayings he takes from the book and he’ll use to express his opinion or desires. For example, if he offers you wine, it means he’s annoyed with you and he doesn’t consider you an ally. If he says “your hair wants cutting” it means he wants to kill you.

- The “tea party” refers to the rogue’s gallery in general. So anyone like Two-Face or Joker is considered a part of or invited to the tea party.

- Speaking of which, I might as well name everyone after an Alice in Wonderland Character, huh? Alright, let’s do this. These are the names Jervis refers to everyone and why.

- He adores animals, since Wonderland is practically made up of them.

Batman: The Jabberwock. In the poem, it’s considered the most dangerous of beasts.

Robin: Jubjub bird. Also something you need to watch out for, apparently. Appears in the Jabberwocky poem, but in passing.

Batgirl: Bandersnatch. Also appears in the same poem in passing, but is still pretty bad. Also said to be fast.

Jervis Tetch: Hatter/Hatta. Duh.

Scarecrow: March Hare. C’mon, the two worked together. They’re pretty much best coworkers. Also because he’s pretty intelligent and plays along with Hatter’s rhymes and whatnot.

Riddler: The Dormouse. Also intelligent and can understand Jervis. Nerd squad.

Joker: Queen of Hearts. Yeah, I know, he’s a guy, but the bitch is insane in the book, executing everyone for the craziest of reasons, kinda like Joker.

Harley Quinn: King of Hearts. Still debating.

Catwoman: The Cheshire Cat. Not good, not bad, and likes to disappear and be sly and all that. Plus it’s a cat.

Poison Ivy: The Tiger lily. Basically rules the other plants and is top-dog. Plus its a talking plant.

Mr. Freeze: Mock Turtle. This one was kinda hard to decide. He’s always sad and a bit of an abomination. Not really a villain like the other are, like how the Mock Turtle isn’t a real turtle. Might change.

Zsasz: Carpenter. A god damn murderer. The Carpenter got a bunch of baby oysters to trust him and then killed them

Killer Croc: Walrus. Basically the same as Zsasz, but you can now include the fact that he’s an animal and eats the oysters.

Clayface: I actually can’t think of anything. Griffin, maybe? Wouldn’t suit him.

Bane: Also hard. Maybe the Lion?

Professor Pyg: The Duchess. Basically a play on him being obscenely ugly. Has a weird obsession for correcting things, and the Duchess’ baby turns into a pig, too, so yeah.

Doctors/People/Police: Cardsmen/Pawns/Chess pieces/soldiers.

#Batman #Mad Hatter #Jervis Tetch #reference

[takaraphoenix]

Has anyone asked you about Dr Who yet?

First of all, let me apologize for just how fucking long this has been laying around. But I have expected it to take… A While to answer. So, sorry for the wait.

I’m a Whovian. Which people who avidly read my PJatO fics probably know because I love to slip it in there.

Doctor Who ranks fourth on my fop five of all-time favorite TV shows.

I’ve only seen New Who though, to make that clear. I just… I dunno? I like color? I tried Classic Who, but I just really can’t go through the black and white - and the New Who does work so well on its own too, even though it factors in Classic Who.

So I will be only talking about New Who here.

I started to watch Doctor Who when it made its way into the Saturday morning program. It really didn’t impress me at all. Literally the only thing that stuck was Jack Harkness - back then, we only did get the first two series, mind you.

So when it just… stopped airing, I didn’t particularly care too much. Because they had written Jack out of the show a series ago and I was more than miffled by the concept of them constantly replacing the main characters. After all, it’s only been two series but I already had two Doctors. And? What? No. What? As a teen, I so did not have the patience for a show that changed main actors more often than some people change their socks.

So I put that out of my mind and actually kind of forgot about it. After all, it had stopped airing in Germany too, so, well, it was canned and done.

But then series 3 ended and I heard that Captain Jack actually made a return to the show. And that coincided with me getting invested in learning how to English. Literally, at the time I sucked. I only brought home 4s, 5s and 6s - Ds, Es and Fs. I copied all my homework from my half-American friend and couldn’t give less of a shit about that language. What would I even need it for? I live in Germany, we speak German, for heaven’s sake.

But I really liked Jack and I had been trying to better my English somehow. So, why not by watching this British TV show with German sub-titles? I started rewatching series 1 and 2 and then watched series 3.

I fell in love with Doctor Who with series 3. It is, to date, a masterpiece to me.

The main reason is the removal of Doctor Who’s most unlikable character. Rose. Good heavens above, I hate Rose Tyler.

Yes, she was a brilliant companion for the Doctor. Yes, she saved the world and galaxy and whatever. Yes, she was the companion the Doctor needed at the time.

But she was a shitty human being.

She was a good companion, because the Doctor was literally the only thing that mattered to this girl. And that’s a good quality in a companion. It’s a crappy quality in a girlfriend and daughter though.

The way she kept stringing Mickey along, even having the audacity to be jealous when he tries to move on but she goes out into the universe with a total stranger, was just petty.

But the one thing that I will never forgive her for and the main reason why I hate her is the way she literally disappeared for an entire year Earth-time - her boyfriend and mother and everyone believing her to be dead, Mickey even being accused of having killed her. And she just up and disappears again.

She didn’t take the time to go to the officials to clear Mickey’s name.

She didn’t even take the time to stay for one lousy dinner, or to say goodbye. Her mom believed her to be dead for an entire year and she can’t even stay one fucking evening to eat dinner with her mother? Or at the very least give her a proper, heartfelt goodbye? No, as long as I can run after the Doctor, I’m happy! I don’t need anyone else!

Not to mention that she’s a barely legal gal being shipped off with a 900 year old alien. It’s just creepy, is what it is. The fact that the Doctor and Rose were never explicitely together is one of my biggest blessings on this show. That he never even said the words had me cheering in my seat, to be honest. Because, no, Doctor, you do not need to fall in love with a 19 year old human, no. Just no.

So yeah, I fell in love with the show after Rose left.

Martha Jones is also my favorite companion. Yes, she is also in love with the Doctor - but she never turned her back on her family, she always had her priorities straight. And she was one-sided in love with him. If he had returned her feelings? Yeah, I’d be creeped out by that too then.

Not just Martha and the return of Jack though, also the plots are what made me fall in love with it.

I have to admit, the Bad Wolf plot of the first series was ,when I rewatched it, really cool. But the second series… still feels more like a filler-series, really. The plot was just so… meh. And the single episodes too - I consider “The Idiot’s Lantern” and “Fear Her” to be two of the show’s weakest episodes.

Martha brought something fresh to the table and I actually love the plots of most of her episodes. “Daleks in Manhattan” and “Evolution of the Daleks” was so cool. “Human Nature” and “The Family of Blood” are, to date, probably the creepiest episodes to me.

“Blink” is literally the most perfect episode of all in this entire show.

And I’ve rewatched just the three-parter of “Utopia”, “The Sound of Drums” and “Last of the Time Lords” more often than I care to admit or remember.

It introduces the Master to New Who and the Master is brilliant. A brilliant enemy.

I hate that Martha only stayed for one series, but her successor sure was worthy, because Donna Noble is my second favorite companion.

Her dynamic with the Doctor is probably the best dynamic written so far in New Who. They’re just friends, in a beautifully uncomplicated way where both of them are deeply aware of the pain in the other.

Not too many outstanding episodes, aside from “The Sontaran Stratagem”, “The Poison Sky” and “The Doctor’s Daughter”, but the pure dynamic of 10 and Donna totally made even the weird plots work well.

Not to mention Donna’s grandpa, who yes. All the yes for him. He was an amazing half-companion (never really know what to call the “male character who only tags along due to the female companion”),

And then the “Journey’s End”. It was such a pay-off. The way it brought everything of the past four series together was just intensely awesome. To unite all of his companions from those four series, to have even Sarah Jane back - I love Sarah Jane, I consider The Sarah Jane Adventures the best of the three Doctor Who spin-offs and her character is amazing. I didn’t even mind the return of Rose, because she was an important part of that life.

And then the entire show changed, because Russell T Davies was replaced by Steven Moffat.

Part of me was over the moon about Moffat at first, because he created Captain Jack Harkness, who is literally why I found my way to the show. And he wrote some of the best episodes of Doctor Who - “The Empty Child”, “The Doctor Dances” and “Blink”.

I have a deeply seated hatred for Moffat at this point, fyi.

I consider “The Girl in the Fireplace” to be the first warning-sign of things, really. Moffat’s intense need to ship people off. To ship the Doctor off.

I do not want my over a thousand year old alien to be shipped off with humans? Honestly, I don’t want him shipped off with anyone, at all, because I watch this show for the SciFi extravaganza and the scales, not the fucking romance.

River Song, close second after Rose on my list of characters I don’t like. Though I’ll get back to that later on when we discuss 12, because she’s currently being re-evaluated by me.

I didn’t like the 12/River plot that Moffat was hyping so hard, because… it completely hijacked the show.

Though, strike that, I didn’t like the River plot in total.

It was way too complicated. And I’m not just saying that because it was “a bit confusing”. I’m saying that because it all only fully fell into place after literally five years. That’s too long.

I do like a complex plot. I like when a plotline stretches out over a course of more than just one season. But if your plot is a messy knot of something that no one can quite figure out where it begins and makes sense until five years later, that’s just… a mess.

“Silence in the Library” aired in 2008 and the real pay-off for the River Song plotline and where it was coming from and going only aired in 2013 with “The Time of the Doctor”. I’m sorry, but that just doesn’t compute for me.

With the first four series, each of them could stand beautifully on their own too, even though in the end all four spanned together and had one pay-off.

Series 5 didn’t make a lick of sense, even after rewatching it two times. It started making a bit more sense with series 6, and then a little more sense with series 7, but come on, if you have to wait three years and then watch three series in one go to make actual sense of stuff you watched three years ago, that just can’t be it for a TV show. That’s ridiculous.

Getting a bit more into details instead of just critizing the overlaying plot, because for its sub-plots, I really did like 12′s arc.

Amy Pond is… an okay companion. She ranks among the six main companions New Who had so far - Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, Clara, Bill - on a solid four. But the literal best thing Amy Pond did for Doctor Who was introduce Rory Williams to us.

Rory Williams is a national treasure and needs to be cherished.

Seriously, if there’s one thing I’m really-really hyping about 12, it’s Rory. He was so adorable, relatable, sweet, cute, caring, amazing. He was the best. I will forever live to regret that Rory and Jack never met, because the idea of Jack hitting on a totally confused Rory while Amy goes protective lioness over her husband is just beautifully hilarious.

Though, for me series 5 also marks the point of oversatuation on Daleks and Cybermen.

Daleks started out, in series 1, as those great enemies who were extinct and look there is only one left. And then there’s a fleet in the next series and it’s a shocker and really effective.

At this point, it has become an obligatory thing. “Ah, there’s this series’ Dalek-episode. Can cross that off my Doctor Who bingo then”. And, honestly, the Daleks are not that great as enemies? Like, they’re great foes, but they don’t do for the most intriguing plotlines because they literally just want to exterminate. An enemy with an actual goal and motivation makes for far better story-telling.

And while I understand that they are the most iconic Who villains and that we can’t get rid fo them entirely… Can we like, reduce them? Maybe have them not appear for one whole series? Because they stopped bringing something new to the table a while ago.

And this series also marks when Cybermen and even the Weeping Angels also just become… bingo-marks, really. It becomes obligatory from here on out that we have to have at least one episode featuring those particular villains. And that just becomes… so predictable.

Now that I complained again, let me return to the praising.

“Vincent and the Doctor” is one of the more emotional episodes of this show and I love it. I’ll never not cry during it.

But “The Lodger” is just plain awesome. “The Lodger” and “Closing Time” are my two favorite episodes for 12, because he had a brilliant dynamic with Craig and I also loved that Craig did get to return for a second episode. I’d love to see him again some time, maybe now that Stormageddon is older. It’d be amazing.

Series 6 was, aside from “The Lodger”, quite the let-down for me personally. I greatly did not care for “The Rebel Flesh”, “The Almost People”, “Night Terrors”, “The Girl Who Waited” or “The God Complex”. And that’s nearly half the series.

Series 7 was better again. Though I still feel conflicted about changing companions mid-series, to be honest.

Clara Oswald is a companion I have… conflicting feelings about.

I really liked her at first, but she definitely overstayed her welcome.

In series 7, she was very much welcomed. She was a nice change of pace, she was witty and I really liked the mystery of “How is Oswin still alive?”. The plot was cool; the pay-off of that was a bit ridiculous, but hey.

Oh, before I forget to mention it! I love Madame Vastra, Jenny and Strax! And they deserve a spin-off so much. Honestly. I still don’t get why they green-lit the boring-ass premise of Class over a spin-off about that trio (note: Class is far better than its boring-ass premise and I enjoyed the show very much while it lasted, but that they got a show with such a lame premise green-lit over a more substantial spin-off is completely beyond me).

We gotta talk about “The Day of the Doctor”, of course.

John Hurt as the War Doctor was amazing, but I still hate that Christopher Eccleston didn’t return for that role. It think it would have weighted so much different if he did and if the plot could have continued as intended. But the War Doctor was a great way to fix the lack of 9.

And 10 and 11 playing off of each other will forever be the singularly best thing on this show, hands down.

The only real problem is that it was just Clara. This was so huge. The scales of it were so great and it was the damn anniversary. We managed to team up all the former companions for the series 4 ending, how did we not get a single additional companion for this huge-ass anniversary special? How did Captain Jack and Torchwood not show up? How did freelancer alien-hunters Mickey and Martha not help them? At the very least. That Rose and Donna and Sarah Jane and Amy and Rory couldn’t, yeah, obvious, but… At least some of the former companions should have been honored in this anniversary special.

I want to say that the pay-off for that was great, but… Honestly, it wasn’t so much a pay-off as more of a “tease for something that still hasn’t been cashed in four years later”. Gallifrey stays… but we kinda accidentally misplaced it.

Danny Pink and series 8 was what really ruined Clara as a companion.

She should have been written out with “The Name of the Doctor”, or at the latest after the anniversary episode considering that it’d have been troublesome to introduce a new companion there.

But when she started to prioritize her boyfriend over the Doctor and literally tried to murder the Doctor, that was just when her character needed to go.

Also, not to forget, series 8 features the singularly dumbest and worst episode of the entire New Who. “The Moon”. Fuck this episode, fuck it hard and square. The moon is an egg and it hatches and immediately lays a new “moon egg”. And literally everyone saw it but opted to immediately forget it. Fuck you. Just… really, were you drunk when you wrote this episode and high when you green-lit it?

And 12 did not make a good first impression in his first series either.

I saw a lot of memes of Classic Who fans pointing out how “other Doctors needed an adjustment phase too”. I get that. Yeah. 11 had that for one episode of finding himself and adjusting. But two entire series can not be the way to do it.

He had zero emotions and was thus zero relatable. 10 and 11 felt so much and so strongly, that is what made you grow attached to them. 12 couldn’t even grasp the most basic of human emotions and it wasn’t even in a funny running-gag kind of way either. It was just annoying and disorienting.

However, the pay-off for series 8 was good. The Master returning as Missy was awesome. Time Lords regenerating into Time Ladies too is awesome and also makes me think that maybe their race is called Time Lords because they are all primarily male and only have occasional female regenerations for reproduction purposes, but not as primary, designated genders. But that’s just me.

I feel similarly let down by series 9. Honestly, I can’t even really distinguish series 8 and 9. They both have the 12th Doctor who is unable to know how to human and Clara, who is growing more and more unlikable and unnecesary by the minute.

Granted, series 9 was a bit of a redemption arc for Clara, but she still felt… rather pointless, because by now she literally finished two story-arcs in this show. First through her original plot and then with the Danny plot.

I don’t like their solution for the “Three Peter Capaldis in this universe” that they came up with that series though. The whole “The face is a reminder” thing is just utter bullshit. I mean. He rescued so many people at this point of whom so many had more emotional value than Caecilius. Why the heck his face?

Honestly, if they’d just retconned it into “12 took a trip to Pompeii and was missing with 10″ it would have been a better solution that would have been more fun…

And I genuinely don’t know how I feel about Arya Stark. Her plotline is kind of intriguing, but she feels like another Captain Jack Harkness. That is to say; another immortal created by the Doctor who then gets abandoned by the Doctor and will be randomly forgotten at one point. Not to mention the cock-teasing of “There could be a spin-off about Me and Clara”, about which I still haven’t decided how I feel.

I adore Osgood. I do have to say that though and I love seeing her back, even though I’d still have loved for her to become an actual companion.

Now.

Now is the time to get back to River Song. Because the Christmas special “The Husbands of River Song” was actually the first time I truly liked River.

And it made me realize why I normally dislike her. She’s a badass and awesome, actually, but that has always been overshadowed by her school-girl crush on the Doctor and the way she’d bat her eyelashes at him and urgh, it was so annoying. In this special, she didn’t know he was the Doctor for half the time and her behavior was awesome. She was awesome. Until she realized he was the Doctor and went back to her school-girl-crush behavior and I went urgh again.

Not to mention - and this is my hardest knock on River Song and her plotline - you can’t keep writing heartfelt goodbyes. They lose all meaning.

“Forest of the Dead” had this grand, epic finale to her plotline before she was even properly introduced and that really pays off when rewatching it.

Then she was introduced.

Then we got a really heartfelt goodbye in “The Wedding of River Song” in series 6, where you thought “Wow, that’s it”.

Then you got a really heartfelt goodbye in “The Angels Take Manhattan” in series 7, where you weeped additional tears for Rory and Amy, but you’re kinda sure that this must be it now, right?

But it happens again at the end of series 7 with “The Name of the Doctor” - and this has to be it, right? It’s like the biggest goodbye yet and it has to be the final.

But oh no, look. Another heartfelt goodbye episode in the Christmas special “The Husbands of River Song”. And at that point, them saying goodbye really just made me roll my eyes.

You just… You can’t make epic goodbye episodes if you don’t plan on fucking finally writing the character off. Either stop pretending to say goodbye, or stop bringing her back, but you can’t do both, it’s just ridiculous and quite frankly also sad.

Now, moving on to series 10.

Series 10 made me fall in love with the 12th Doctor. Finally he was THE Doctor. Finally he started caring and being properly there, instead of requiring his companion as an emotional crutch. This series makes me mad that Peter is already leaving again. He barely to to actually be the Doctor as he ought to and now he’s already being replaced. Urgh.

Bill was actually a really cool companion. I didn’t undestand a single word she said for the first two episodes before I got used to her way of speaking, but after that, I fast grew attached to her.

Heck, I even grew attached to Nardole, and Nardole was the thing I hated most about “The Husbands of River Song”. But he had great character development over this one series.

I’m not sure how I feel about Missy, to be honest. Because I don’t want a redemption arc for the Doctor’s greatest foe. It was fun, but also really weird.

Now, before I wrap this up, I guess it’s impossible not to talk about the 13th Doctor.

I couldn’t give less of a rat’s ass about the casting. Literally.

I mean, as long as the actor does a good job and does the Doctor justice - not like Peter did in two out of three of his series - I couldn’t care less if the Doctor is male, female, white, black, Asian, for all I care they could have the Doctor regenerate into an agender green alien considering he doesn’t have to be human looking but humanoid. I just want an actor who captures the essence of the Doctor.

For that, of course, the actor is not the only one responsible.

The writing is too.

If they go an overly “We now have a female Doctor!!” route and start treating the Doctor different just because he is now a she, I will go batshit crazy.

If the Doctor now, all of a sudden starts actively persuading a male romantic interest (and I use the term “actively” here because the Doctor not limiting himself to females has been canon for a long time), just to keep things “straight looking”, I’ll be mad. How about we leave the romance just out? Something I’ve been pleading for for years now.

If the Doctor now, all of a sudden will for the first time in New Who take a male companion just to “keep it even”, I will also be mad. Because so far, the Doctor only took male companions as add-ons to his female primary companion. Have her take two companions, one male and one female, okay. That is what works best anyway, in my opinion.

But if the Doctor now takes a male companion and will require to be saved by The Man, then I’ll just be disappointed.

And I wish I wouldn’t have to worry about this, but I feel like… replacing Moffat and the Doctor and the companion all at once… Might change New Who completely and there’s no telling into what direction it’ll go.

So, for now, I’ll just be anxiously awaiting the new series and praying that the female Doctor will do the role justice, both as an actress and as its written part.

#Doctor Who #Ask me a show and I shall rant #TV Rants #Fandom Rants

[whtaft]

1-99 you're doing it too this time

I know I deserve this. But. 

1: 6 of the songs you listen to most?

Sugar Boats by Modest Mouse

These Days by Nico

Sleepyhead by Passion Pit

Sleeping Lessons by The Shins

Up from Below by Edward Sharpe & the Magnetic Zeroes

2: If you could meet anyone on this earth, who would it be?

My ~ one true love ~ or Ruth Bader Ginsberg

3: Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 23, give me line 17.

“When you fill a page, try drafting that section, because writing out your ideas can improve your thinking at every stage of your project.” This is what I get for having the Chicago Manuel of Style out.

4: What do you think about most?

How worried I am about getting a job

5: What does your latest text message from someone else say?

Oh god this is weird without context: “The strange thing is that she somehow thinks that some cat lady's crafts belong in a museum. What makes them significant?”

6: Do you sleep with or without clothes on?

With, but not a lot of them

7: What’s your strangest talent?

I have double jointed thumbs

8: Girls… (finish the sentence); Boys… (finish the sentence)

Girls are all amazing

Boys need to work harder

9: Ever had a poem or song written about you?

I... don’t believe so? My high school crush once told me that I’m “not the sort of girl people write songs about” which was great for my self-esteem

10: When is the last time you played the air guitar?

I genuinely don’t know

11: Do you have any strange phobias?

YUP

12: Ever stuck a foreign object up your nose?

NOPE, IT’S ONE OF MY PHOBIAS

13: What’s your religion?

Judaism

14: If you are outside, what are you most likely doing?

Walking my dog

15: Do you prefer to be behind the camera or in front of it?

Behind

16: Simple but extremely complex. Favorite band?

The Shins

17: What was the last lie you told?

That I was feeling okay

18: Do you believe in karma?

Not really

19: What does your URL mean?

William Howard Taft

20: What is your greatest weakness; your greatest strength?

Weakness: I’m very sensitive

Strength: I’m a good writer

21: Who is your celebrity crush?

Right now? Travis McElroy

22: Have you ever gone skinny dipping?

Nope

23: How do you vent your anger?

I cry and write something shitty on Tumblr about it

24: Do you have a collection of anything?

Tsum tsum!

25: Do you prefer talking on the phone or video chatting online?

Video chatting

26: Are you happy with the person you’ve become?

Yes and no; overall, I’m more okay than not okay

27: What’s a sound you hate; sound you love?

Hate the sound of my upstairs neighbors clomping around; love the sound of Monty’s tail whacking something as it wags

28: What’s your biggest “what if”?

What if I went to a different college where I was happier

29: Do you believe in ghosts? How about aliens?

Yes and yes

30: Stick your right arm out; what do you touch first? Do the same with your left arm.

Right: pillow

Left: PUPPY DOG

31: Smell the air. What do you smell?

I can’t smell anything because allergies

32: What’s the worst place you have ever been to?

@stevebarnacles​‘ blog

Just kidding

This very creepy bed and breakfast in Ohio

33: Choose: East Coast or West Coast?

East Coast because I’ve never been to West

34: Most attractive singer of your opposite gender?

I don’t like that I’m this way, but Marcus Mumford

35: To you, what is the meaning of life?

Dogs

36: Define Art.

Do you like it? Then it’s art.

37: Do you believe in luck?

Ehhh sort of

38: What’s the weather like right now?

Getting colder

39: What time is it?

9:03

40: Do you drive? If so, have you ever crashed?

Yes and no

41: What was the last book you read?

Don’t call me out like this

42: Do you like the smell of gasoline?

No???

43: Do you have any nicknames?

Unless you count whtaft or mambo, then no

44: What was the last film you saw?

Labyrinth!

45: What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had?

My ear drums rupture every couple years and it’s awful

46: Have you ever caught a butterfly?

Yes, the scary mother fuckers

47: Do you have any obsessions right now?

TAZ and MBMBAM

48: What’s your sexual orientation?

Bi

49: Ever had a rumour spread about you?

Ofc

50: Do you believe in magic?

Yes, to an extent

51: Do you tend to hold grudges against people who have done you wrong?

Y U P

52: What is your astrological sign?

Capricorn

53: Do you save money or spend it?

Spend

54: What’s the last thing you purchased?

A movie ticket to see Labyrinth

55: Love or lust?

Love

56: In a relationship?

In my dreams

57: How many relationships have you had?

Classified

58: Can you touch your nose with your tongue?

No

59: Where were you yesterday?

Home and the movie theater

60: Is there anything pink within 10 feet of you?

I am sitting on a blanket that has pink on it

61: Are you wearing socks right now?

Hell no

62: What’s your favourite animal?

MONTY

63: What is your secret weapon to get someone to like you?

... Is this a thing that people have? Because I don’t have any

64: Where is your best friend?

Canada

65: Give me your top 5 favourite blogs on Tumblr.

@biblionerd07

@hakunahistata

@stevebarnacles

@relenafanel

@n0tdrunk

66: What is your heritage?

Eastern European Jewish/German Catholic

67: What were you doing last night at 12AM?

Just falling asleep

68: What do you think is Satan’s last name?

He doesn’t have one

69: Be honest. Ever gotten yourself off?

Um. Yes. Why is this phrased this way? It’d be a lot better if it asked if I’d gotten myself off today, which is also yes.

70: Are you the kind of friend you would want to have as a friend?

No

71: You are walking down the street on your way to work. There is a dog drowning in the canal on the side of the street. Your boss has told you if you are late one more time you get fired. What do you do?

Get the dog, bring him to the office, and take care of him there until your boss gets annoyed but doesn’t fire you

72: You are at the doctor’s office and she has just informed you that you have approximately one month to live. a) Do you tell anyone/everyone you are going to die? b) What do you do with your remaining days? c) Would you be afraid?

TELL EVERYONE

Go to Disney World

FUCK YEAH

73: You can only have one of these things; trust or love.

Love

74: What’s a song that always makes you happy when you hear it?

Hot Patootie from Rocky Horror

75: What are the last four digits in your cell phone number?

Classified

76: In your opinion, what makes a great relationship?

Ummm I’ve never been in one, so I’m not an expert, but I think you gotta be on the same level

77: How can I win your heart?

Like, just be nice to me and I’ll probably fall in love with you

78: Can insanity bring on more creativity?

No, and it’s a dangerous myth to propagate

79: What is the single best decision you have made in your life so far?

Getting Monty

80: What size shoes do you wear?

6-7

81: What would you want to be written on your tombstone?

Probably just my name; I don’t really know of anything else that I want to carry with me like that

82: What is your favourite word?

Monty

83: Give me the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the word; heart.

Monty

84: What is a saying you say a lot?

Fuck a duck

85: What’s the last song you listened to?

Sugar Boats by Modest Mouse

86: Basic question; what’s your favourite colour/colours?

Dark green/black/maroon

87: What is your current desktop picture?

It’s of Sora, Pooh, Piglet and Tigger from Kingdom Hearts

88: If you could press a button and make anyone in the world instantaneously explode, who would it be?

The Cheeto 

89: What would be a question you’d be afraid to tell the truth on?

Who my crush is

90: One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren’t really doing anything, they’re just standing around your bed. What do you do?

I’d probably just die, let’s be real

91: You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what’s even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What is that power?

Teleportation

92: You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again?

I’d like to go back to when I met Sebastian Stan again and wear something different this time

93: You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

The night where I almost committed suicide

94: You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who would it be?

Yo-Yo Ma

95: You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go?

I’m gonna go to NYC to visit @hakunahistata

96: Do you have any relatives in jail?

Yes

97: Have you ever thrown up in the car?

I can’t remember an instance but I was also a baby, so maybe then

98: Ever been on a plane?

Yup

99: If the whole world were listening to you right now, what would you say?

CHILL THE FUCK OUT

#stevebarnacles #Words

[topimagines]

Don’t go- Josh Dun

Y/N P.O.V

He hadn’t answered his phone in over 5 hours. This wasn't like him. He always answered your calls and texts almost immediately.

Did he meet someone else? He probably didn’t care about you anymore, he won’t even be here for our 3rd anniversary. He could get anyone in the world, so why did he settle for you? You we’re a piece of crap. You we’re far from perfect, you had an ugly smile, and your laugh was so annoying.

Those thoughts had been haunting you for the past 3 months but when Josh didn’t answer your calls for the last 5 hours, that was enough for you to believe all of them. You just wanted to push all the voices out. There was only one way though.

You walked to the bathroom sobbing, knowing that both you and Josh would be free again. You from your misery and Josh from you. That’s what he wanted wasn’t it?

You opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed a bottle of sleeping pills. You heard a knock on the door as you took a big swig of water swallowing the pills then your phone rang out from the counter. It was Josh.

That’s when you fell to the ground and everything went black. You wanted to go back but it was too late.

Josh P.O.V.

I met her just over 3 years ago. Her smile pulled me in. The way she laughed made my heart skip a beat. She was freaking beautiful and she was so talented. From the first time I met her I felt a special connection to her.

Fast forward 3 years and we’ve been dating for 2 years, 11 months, and 29 days. Yes I kept a count because she meant so much to me. She always knows exactly the right things to say and do. I couldn’t help but think she ended up in my life for a reason. She was perfect.

Tyler and I just got off the plane from finishing our tour. Y/N doesn’t know we’re back yet. She thinks I’ll be home late tomorrow night, but I wanted to surprise her for our anniversary tomorrow.

I had a lot planned for us and I couldn’t wait to see her reaction when I proposed to her.

Once Jenna and Tyler dropped me off at Y/N and I’s apartment I started towards the door.  Was so excited to see her again. It has been 2 months since I got to see her in person.

I knocked on the door and waited for it to open. There was no answer. I decided to call her and I got a little nervous when she didn’t answer. I went to the neighbors to get the key they had of our. I could help but fear the worse. Y/N has battled with depression and when I went away she wasn’t in the best state of mind.

When the door finally opened I called out her name. That’s when I came across the bathroom to find the love of my life on the ground with an empty bottle of pills next to her.

I called 911 while trying to find a pulse. I was a little hopeful when I felt it but it was weak.

“Stay with me baby. I love you Y/N, don’t go. We were gonna get married. Baby I need you.” I just kept talking in hopes she could hear me.

The ambulance showed up about 7 minutes later. I had to call Tyler to meet me at the hospital because I couldn’t do this alone.

“Hey Tyler. Meet me at the hospital right now. I just found Y/N on the ground,she took some pills and I’m scared.” I could barely breath, my chest felt heavy with worry.

“We’re on our way now Josh stay strong, she’ll be okay.” Tyler’s voice was filled with fear and concern but he was trying to hide it.

She was taken away right away once arriving at the hospital. I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Tyler. My tears just feel and I collapsed to the ground.

“I knew I should have told her I was coming home. I knew I should have never left her in the beginning.”

“Hey Josh She’ll be fine. She’s a fighter, she loves you and if she did hear you before then she’s gonna get herself better.” Tyler and Jenna stayed with me until the doctor came out.

“You must be Josh Dun, correct?”

“Yes. How’s Y/N? Can I see her.”

The doctor let out a sigh the started to talk. “She’s doing great. She overdosed on sleeping pills. Once we got her back there her heart stopped but we have her stabilized now. We have hopes that she will be awake tomorrow. Thank god you found her when you did. She wouldn’t have made it if you had waited all of 3 more minutes. You can go see her now.” With that the doctor lead all of us to where Y/N was.

She must have not eaten in a few weeks. She was at least 25 pounds lighter and her arms were covered in scars.

“Oh my god. Josh how long has she been this bad?” Tyler asked kneeling next to me as I held her hand and kissed her knuckles.

“I-I don’t really know. I got so wrapped up in the album and tour I guess I didn’t even notice. Fuck this is all my fault. I love her so much and I didn’t even realize that she was hurting herself. I don’t deserve her.”

“Don’t blame yourself for this Josh. Just be there for her.”

Tyler and Jenna left about 3 hours later after they knew I was okay. They offered to bring me home but I wasn’t leaving Y/N’s side.

I pulled a chair up next to her bedside and just held her hand. I drummed a little beat with my thumbs on her hand and I must and fallen asleep. I was awoken by yelling and a loud beeping noise. The nurses removed me from the room quickly as I tried to fight my way back to Y/N.

“Sir we need to make sure she’s fully stabilized before you can go back in.” The nurse explained to me as I asked to go back in after sitting in the waiting room for 20  minutes.

It was about an hour later when I could go back in. She looked like she did before except this time her eyes were open. She was just staring down at her wrist crying.

I placed a hand on her leg. She jumped “Are you a nurse?”

I looked at her with a quizzical face. Before I could reply the doctor came in and asked to speak to me.

He explained how she had some sort of seizure when she woke up. He then explained how she will have some memory loss for the next few hours but she should be okay by tonight. He had full faith in her which made me feel good.

“Hey Y/N, do you remember me?” I entered the room again.

“Umm… Yeah don’t you play in a band or something? Like the drums?” I thought it would be best to go along with whatever she said for now.

“Yeah. Are you a fan?”

She smiled and it made my heart skip a beat like always.

“I think so. Can I hear a song?”

“Of course.” I said pulling out my phone playing her favorite song.

As We Don't Believe What's On TV played I couldn't help but stare at her. She was so beautiful, how could she ever how doubts about herself?

When the song ended she asked to hear more. We listen to the whole Blurryface album and I gently drummed my fingers on the bedside again. She watched me the whole time.

“You must be really talented. Do you have a girlfriend?”

“I do actually.” I smiled and then it faded when I realized what she had asked me.

“Wow she must be very lucky to have you.”

“No I'm lucky one.”

“Josh, will you tell me about her?”

“Well for starters she’s beautiful, talented, and her smile. Her smile makes me the happiest man alive. I could go on for hours about everything I love about her. She's perfect for me.”

She smiled down at me.

“I feel like I know who you are. Are we friends?”

“I would say more than friends. What do you remember about me?”

Y/N P.O.V.

“I would say more than friends. What do you remember about me?”

I sat and thought for a moment. My thoughts and memories were all cloudy and I wasn’t sure what was real or not.

“Well I remember that there is Tyler he’s the one who sings those songs.A blonde girl. Gianna, possibly. I think we’re all friends right?”

“Close, her name is Jenna. Tyler and I play in the band twenty one pilots and Jenna is one of your best friends.” Josh said reassuring me.

With that a man and a woman walked in. they looked to Josh as if they didn’t know what to say.

“Hey guys. Y/N woke up a while ago and she’s getting some memories back.” Josh told them what I remembered. After talking a bit about our friendship Jenna asked if Josh wanted to take a walk with her. I wondered why he said yes, I thought we were getting along so well. I wanted to know more about his girlfriend,he sounded so madly in love with her. Something I only dreamed a guy would do about me.

Once they left the room Tyler sat in the chair next to the bed that Josh just left.

“Hey Y/N. How do you feel?”

“Good I guess. Tyler can I ask you a question?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Is Josh happy with Jenna? I mean he deserves the best and I think she would be great for him I guess.”

He chuckled and looked at the ground. “Well I hope they don’t get to close. After all she’s my wife.”

“Oh whoops, I thought they were dating. Sorry. So who is he dating?” You felt sort of embarrassed but you felt comfortable around Tyler like you did with Josh.

“Well she’s this funny girl who I introduced him to over 3 years ago. Today is their 3 year anniversary actually and he was gonna surprise her, but something came up. She’s my wife’s best friend and she was her maid of honor in our wedding. We all missed her being on tour with us, but she had work so she could join us the past 3 months.” You sat and listened to Tyler go on about this girl for a while.

Josh P.O.V.

“Thanks for getting me out of there Jenna.”

“No problem. I saw the tears in your eyes and knew you probably needed a minute to breathe.”

“Yeah. It’s just so hard not being able to wish her a happy anniversary or kiss her. I mean she doesn’t even know we’re dating. I had all these plans to propose today and I just feel so bad for her.” I wanted to cry but just held the emotions in. I wanted to stay as strong as possible.

“The doctor said we could show her picture and videos and things like that to jog her memory but I don’t want to mess with anything, you know?”

“I get it, but i think she’s getting a lot of the memories back she just needs a little more push to get the rest.” Jenna said pulling out her phone. She showed em a few pictures she had taken of Y/N and I when we were on tour together.

“Show these to her and maybe it will help her.” She said handing me the phone as we walked back into Y/N’s room.

Y/N P.O.V.

Josh and Jenna walked in and Josh sat next to me again. He handed me the phone and scrolled through a few pictures of him and me. It was when he got to the 5th or 6th picture that it clicked. I was his girlfriend. Tears filled my eyes and Josh looked up at me.

“What’s wrong?” Josh said wiping away a stray tear that must have fallen from my eye.

“Happy anniversary babe.”

The room went silent. Everyone’s jaws fell open. Then Josh stood up and put his lips to my forehead.

“I love you Y/N. Happy anniversary baby.”

Josh handed Jenna her phone back. Then they left leaving only Josh and I in the room. I moved over on the bed so Josh could sit next to me.

Not that he felt like a stranger but I still didn’t have full memory back so I still didn’t feel like I’ve known him for 3 years.

Josh's P.O.V.

It had been a few hours since she remembered who I was. I know there were pieces still missing from her memory but the next morning she would have it all back says the doctor.

It was early in the morning when I woke up and saw her sleeping so peacefully. I didn't want to leave but I hadn't taken a shower in over 3 days now.

Once I returned 3 hours later she was awake.

She greeted me with the biggest smile.

“Hey Josh.”

I was so happy to hear her voice again with a happy tone.

“Hey babe. How did you sleep?” I asked as I sat down on the bed with her again.

“Great.” There was a moment of silence as the cuddles close into my side. “Josh I'm so sorry. I-”  I cut her off before she could say anything more.

“Y/N there's nothing to be apologizing about. Just please promise me you'll come to me about this if there's a next time.”

She nodded her head and I kissed her on the top of her head.

“You missed.” She said as she came up to met her lips with mine. We were interrupted by Tyler walking in.

“Woah didn't know I was getting a show with visiting my best friend.” Y/N pulled away and chucked. I just stared down at her. I can't believe I almost lost the love of my life to her stupid demons.

6 weeks later

Y/N and I just left having a nice dinner at her favorite restaurant. We were walking along the river path when I stopped and dropped to my knee. Y/N didn't notice for a few seconds and when she turned around to see me pulling out the small velvet box she started to cry. This was it. The moment I've been anticipating since our first few dates.

I planned a whole speech but I couldn't get the words to form so I simply just said “Y/N make me the happiest man to ever live and marry me.”

She stepped closer to me and shook her head yes. I slipped the ring in her finger and then pulled her into a hug.

She was finally mine. I was never letting her go again and something told me she was thinking the same about herself and I.

“I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Josh.”  

#josh dun imagine #josh dun #josh dun x reader #josh dun fluff #tyler joseph #jenna joseph #twenty one pilots #twenty one pilots imagine #twenty one pilots fluff