#also i will say for the nightmare there wa a really fucking funny part of it

[sanchoyo]

cotton candy + carnation pink

Cotton candy - What was your last dream about?

OH my last dream that I actually remember (like..2 nightish ago?) was actually a nightmare, like…me and my family (+ another family I didnt know??) moved into a huge house, and were warned not to Ever Go into the Basement bc it lead to a mining area that was haunted. spoiler: it was haunted. and the Thing that was haunting it was called Dread Incarnate (which. sick af name im sure I picked up from some media before sleeping lmao) and was like. 7 ft tall with ashy grey skin and like 2 ft long hands/fingers, and long black stringy hair and it freaked me out a lot.

LUCKILY it could only hurt or follow u up the mine and into the actual house if u invited it to do so. uuuunfortunutely, the gimmick was that it looked/sounded like someone you would want to invite up, some people in the group saw children who needed help, some people saw a loved one, for whatever reason only I could see How It Actually looked, and like. it took me Several Hours but I finally got everyone up safe without It Coming Too. 

I remember going up the pulley thingy with everyone, and it was just staring at me like >:( SUPER PISSED and scary. later that night my mom came out of the basement with my 2 yr old nephew like ‘hey, for some reason ur sister was down in the basement but I brought her up!!’ and I was like. shit. the thing was standing RIGHT BEHIND HER. then I woke up so skdjhkj I never got to see the conclusion, but like, I was terrified it was gonna Get My Nephew so when i woke up I kinda ran to my sister like ‘WHERES UR SON AT- IS HE OK’ S DJFKHKJN 

Carnation pink - Congrats! You get to write direct and star in a film, about whatever you want! What’s the genre and what’s the soundtrack for the opening credits, the action or drama sequences, the climax of the film, and the closing credits? 

Oh!!! listen, I’ve been kinda super fixated on marvel shit lately and my ultimate Dream is not a film exactly, but an animated young avengers series, I have so many ideas and I love them so much, I don’t think 1 film would satisfy me. but I’d do it anyway yknow. if given the chance. 

the genre is ..is superhero a genre? like itd have the same Tone as the teen titans series but ideally animated by like. studio bones. I know thatd never happen but this is hypothetical and I love all their work (like. mob pyscho level animation for this show. god Id kill for it) all the soundtrack could be lgbt+ artists bc!! major themes in the series!!! also bc queer people make better music (happy pride everyone) and I would make sure its as Explicit as it is in the comics. Or EVEN MORE. and I’d fix all the weird uh. Underaged sexulization shit!  This hypothetical movie would be so good itd lead to a full series thats equally as Good and runs for like. 8 seasons without ever going downhill, but ends on a good and satisfying note with No Loose Ends u know. bc im still hypothetically directing it. also itd occasionally have xovers with other teams like the runaways and the secret warriors bc I love them too :”)

thank u for asking!

[dulcetash]

9-1-1 Newbie Binge: Thoughts and THOTs

Preamble Ramble: Why is it so hard to jump on mutuals' fan-wagons even as I'm pining for them to jump on mine? I know I'm not the only one who experiences this phenomenon. What is this Imp of the Perverse, and why is he such a recalcitrant little shit? I DON'T KNOW. HE THINKS HE'S FUNNY, BUT HE'S A COCKBLOCKER.

Anyway! After 2 years of skimming gifs and keyboard smashes about Station 118, I found myself some time this weekend to dive in. I had some vague expectations of pretty firefighters who eye-fuck each other, Angela Bassett being Queen of Everything (naturally), Casey from Sports Night having time-warped into a dorky DILF, and apparently JLoHew is being allowed to age like a normal human woman? How goddamn refreshing. Okay, let's check it out.

I'm 8 episodes in so far, and holy shit:

Stream of consciousness impressions so far:

Oh, this is Ryan Murphy and Brad Falchuck, I had no idea! I have watched so much American Horror Story. Oh, that's the Angela Bassett connection, and - sonofabitch - there's Connie Britton, OF COURSE. And then Frances Conroy is an AHS regular, and she starred in Six Feet Under with Peter Krause, OOOooo-kay, I see the shape this is taking.

Reader, I did not see the shape this was taking. Murphy and Falchuck were also the show runners for Pose, which while fabulous and fun, also displayed heartfelt dignity and thoughtful sensitivity to various social issues, with a gritty touch of realism amongst the madcap adventures and pageantry. I figured this might be the same.

"9-1-1, what's your emergency?" "I hear crying in the walls."

Normal Show: Oh dear, a kitten got trapped in a vent somewhere.

9-1-1: Clearly, someone flushed a premature baby down the toilet.

NO, REALLY. I thought this was a batshit theory for questionable comedic effect that would be scoffed at as the kitten was dug out of the insulation. They tried to tell me with a straight face that the bones would be soft enough to slither through the u-bend, the baby would have survived the flush, and it would have enough lung capacity for a stoner to hear it though iron pipe and purple haze. And nobody in the entire apartment building has tried to flush in the last hour. I was not buying this for a second.

And MORE FOOL ME, because next thing I know, they're crouched around a length of pipe that's crowning like a steampunk industrial vagina from the land of nightmares, breathlessly delivering something straight out of the American Horror Story prop department's S4 leftovers, using the lube from the defibrillator kit (why that last detail sent me so hard I could not say, but my gawd). And "she" LIVED. Of course. Yep, uh-huh. And then absolutely no follow-up on what would happen to the traumatized teen mother and the... dad who raped her? I'm inferring? NOPE, this ain't Criminal Minds, this ain't Law & Order, all plot threads are snipped at the sliding doors to the ER.

(Oh yeah, JLoHew was also in Criminal Minds for awhile, hey girl hey!)

Okay, it's gonna be THAT kind of show. All righty then. I'm oriented. I'm prepared now.

(I was not prepared.)

I thought I was. I was taking nothing seriously. I went with it when Buck chopped the head off a 12 foot python, then comforted its owner with his own trouser snake. I lol'd when his therapist tripped and landed on his dick. I was still cackling over the bouncy house full of rich brats flying off over a cliff in the high Santa Anna winds, when suddenly, this happened RIGHT ON MY TV SCREEN:

THIS. HAPPENED. And the funniest part is, this is the ONLY thing that the character didn't whine about for the entire episode. Is his name... Chimney? Really? Like, that was his name before his skull was vented? LOLLLLLL More AHS props were dug out for the close-up brain surgery, the squelchy sound effects when they pulled the rebar out were DELIGHTFUL, truly, even better than when the fetus was schlorped out of the toilet pipe, well done FX crew, A+++ all around. In a lovely bit of hand-waving, Chimney (*snerrrk*) suffered no pain, no evident psychological trauma, the rebar seems to have reamed out his self-pity, and in a few episodes he returns from his hospital vacay into the welcoming arms of his co-workers, and - just in case we forgot why he'd been gone - there was cake.

KEEP IT CLASSY, Y'ALL

Oh god, what else. The insane plane crash rescue sequences were *chef's kiss*. Athena getting her Fast & Furious on to deliver a kidney transplant was super fun, all Queen Athena assumptions are being fulfilled as expected. The attempted date between Abby and Buck was OHMYGODREALLY lolforever with the tracheostomy, A+ reversal of expectations as to who would be penetrating whom, bitch, you thought. And again, he pops up next episode without even a scar on his throat, and you know what, after cleaning my mother's tracheostomy twice a day for 7 months in 2008? I'LL ALLOW IT. ESCAPIST FANTASY FOR ALL, NO CONSEQUENCES, GIVE IT TO ME, AMEN. Who was the hottie in the wheelchair who talked Abby through it on speakerphone, though? I hope we get more of her.

During the toilet-pipe birth scene in the first episode (no, I'm still not over it), it occurred to me that maybe they wanted to do an Oh My God the Baby's Coming trope, but they didn't want to have to bother with actual vaginas with women attached to them? Episode 1.7 says, louder for those in the back: BITCH, YOU THOUGHT, LULZ. But the best, the absolute crowning achievement of everything I've seen so far (pun definitely intended) was THIS:

YES. MINE EYES DIDST NOT DECEIVE ME. That is Evan Himbeau Buckley cheerfully pulling a 3-foot tapeworm out of a groaning twink's ass. Y'all. I filter MPreg out of my fic searches for a reason.

NO, BUCK, DON'T LICK IT. Although props to how delighted you were to get in there and root around, this bodes well for later. I love that he took an axe to a giant constrictor but is treating this Horror from the Deep with tender loving care.

I'm sorry, y'all, if I had to see it, you have to see it.

*whew* Okay, that's enough for now. I'm all in, though. I'm ready to find out how in the Goddess Athena's name Hen is going to make her fuckery up to Karen (whom I also recognize from a brief stint on Criminal Minds, hey girl, what's up). I think I'm only 2 eps away from the first season finale. I'm braced ready.

(probably not)

[something-very-special]

they ran over the seals

More Replicant playthrough observations and general nonsense under the cut. For reference, up to the keystone quest; completed the Forest of Myth and Junk Heap.

This fucking game I swear to god.

A vaguely coherent ramble about sidequests An observation about sidequests in general in this game -- and I don't recall if I ever voiced this somewhere public or it was just a personal observation from my time with the original -- is that the quests in the first half of the game are all relatively easy to complete. There's that one asshat who wants 10 goat hides, but other than him, most of the sidequests are either very much based on finding characters, or gathering a sensible number of items that are either relatively common, purchasable, or given a guaranteed spawn for the duration of that quest.

The sidequests everybody remembers having to do are in the second half, where everybody is demanding and awful and I'm sorry ten MACHINE OILS do you know how goddamn rare those are? They're goddamn rare.

(We'll not discuss Life in the Sands.)

This is generally agreed to, in the technical vernacular, 'suck'. And it's always funny that the most interesting sidequests are the ones with very minimal requirements (Yonah's cooking, getting Popola drunk, the Lighthouse Ladoh my god everything's gone blurry I'm not crying you're crying who am I kidding we're both crying). That particular aspect of the design also feels intentional, not really gating your ability to progress the really meaningful or funny sidequests behind an unreasonable number of rare items. The other aspect of the design is that these quests are not meant to be completed in a single playthrough; most of them are single-stage and just absolutely unreasonable, but if you're going through the game four times you have a... reasonable chance of getting everything you need more or less naturally.

Nobody does that but I think that was the intended design. I think it's a good idea, although the execution of expectation is flawed so I don't really blame people for saying those sidequests suck. (Although I will in turn blame people for saying the sidequests suck as a blanket statement. Yeah getting that guy who burned his kitchen down a billion Broken Motors is aggravating but did you not find that old man's dog? Speak to Ursula on her death bed? Solve a murder? Then again I think tracking down that rotten son who's trying to get away from The Family Business only to learn his father is a con-artist and get literally no reward is the height of comedy so maybe I'm not the greatest point of reference.)

But that asshole in Facade can get bent. I can't exploit my garden properly, jackass! I am no longer a god of time. (I kid, of course.) (This guys sucks even when you can fix your clock.)

Forest of Myth It didn't even occur to me to wonder how they would incorporate the comprehensive voice acting into the Forest of Myth. I like how it plays out, although I wish the voices maybe had a fade as you went deeper into the dream instead of just cutting out at some point, especially for the lines where the characters are being ascribed actions by the narrator that they themselves aren't doing near the start of the Deathdream. But it's just delightful to go back to it. The second half of the game really sticks in your mind both for emotional reasons and because you play it at least three times per full playthrough of the game, but the first half is just so much fun.

Protip: Talk to everybody after you've finished the dream sidequest. Weiss tries to dissuade you. Don't let him dissuade you. I'm still delighted by the Mayor; "We're building a statue of you, made of solid gold. I know you don't own a horse, but we're going to put you on a horse."

I forgot about Yonah being a disaster chef Papa Nier's reaction to the stew is better. Brother is still funny but Papa Nier just expecting to die is comedy gold.

For anybody curious, the joke about the cakes is that Yonah made 'fruit cake' using some of the worst possible fruits for cake-making. If only she'd thrown a tomato into the mix, too.

Lighthouse Lady Every time. what the fuck is a canal I'm aware of the addition of the new-old content but it didn't occur to me until Popola suddenly starts nattering on about fixing the canal when I'm expecting Yonah to talk about a penpal that oh, yeah, I guess Seafront would have had something going on the first half that would play into the second half? (I assume it does. Be weird to introduce these characters just to have groundwork for an added sidequest. ...but it was a cute sidequest.) But look Popola my boy is supposed to be in the next area I visit could we-- I mean he's on the way could we just-- no-- fiiiiiiiiiine. (It was short and sweet, though, and I appreciate that the couple's love is exemplified by them both calling Weiss a floating magazine in tandem.) On a related note but was I the only person suddenly concerned when the sidequest completion maxed out at 50% and not 51%? I had to double-check with a guide just to make sure, since I've spent the last decade telling people to make sure you hit 51% before going on to Part II.

MY BOY I love that nowadays, Emil is everybody's son. But I really wish I could go find somebody only familiar with Automata and just watch their reaction. (I'm guessing there are streams out there that fulfill this but man I'd love to get it in-person.) If you're only familiar with him from Automata this has to be a mindfuck.

Personal anecdote, but I've had the privilege of playing NIER with somebody else almost every time I've gone through it. I had a wonderful experience of doing a replay some years back with somebody who had experienced it with me before but didn't have the most solid memory of the beginning (and had actually missed the entire weapon's lab the first time through). I get to the boy at the piano introducing himself and the 'Wait, what?' was a thing of beauty.

MY ANDROID This was a welcome mindfuck for me; finding Sebastian and having him 'reactivate' in such an unnatural, mechanical way. I don't recall if it was ever officially confirmed that Sebastian is an android (I know that it's just understood that this is the case but I'm not I can't recall a specific one) but the little flair they added to his animation caught me completely off guard. I liked it!

Destroying the food source A lot of people will cite a major inciting incident for the game as being when the protagonist heading back into the village and killing the child Shades just outside the entrance. This moment is such a great bit of subtle foreshadowing that's so easy to miss... but kind of joining that, just before the Knave of Hearts attacks, I realized that the Shades out on the Northern Plains are clearly ramping up for an assault of their own by murdering the sheep. The sheep population at this point is decimated (which is great when you realize you haven't gotten the Sheepslayer trophy and you're about to enter Part II and you don't know if the boar drifting minigame got carried forward with the inclusion of 15 Nightmares). You go out onto the Plains and you will find not only small clusters of sheep left behind instead of the vast, terrifying herds from the start of the game, but until you get their attention the Shades are prioritizing killing the sheep. (Also annoying because that doesn't count toward my sheep murder number.) The Shades will be out there also killing sheep earlier on, but since the whole map is in Overcast mode after talking to Yonah it's especially prevalent to go out to the Northern Plains and seeing the slaughter. And I realized-- they're cutting the Village off from a primary food source. Shades don't eat and they don't have any beef with the local ungulates (at least, no more so than anybody else does), so why are they hunting down the sheep? To deprive their enemies of resources. Sheep are extinct by the timeskip. It's actually really clever of them, and a really clever indication of their sentience and intelligence before it's fully verified.

"Let's get these shit-hogs!" Everything about the way Kaine and Emil interact across the entire game is perfect I will brook no argument this is objective fact.

Emotive Rectangles I wrote an essay about this before but it really bears repeating that the job the original animators did with this scene is just phenomenal. The way Weiss drifts, flits, flips, fans his pages, drunkenly swerves, shoots around the room in defiance... He's a goddamn rectangle, but there is so much emotion and personality in this scene just based on the movements conveyed through a what is effectively just a box. Ten years later and triple-A titles with full facial capture don't have this much seething personality. I really have to give props to the cavia animators, wherever they wound up. That studio could really put some subtle love and care into their titles, utterly unnecessary and easy to miss but you can tell that whoever was working on it was giving it their all. The books are probably the exemplification of this, but every time I go into Seafront and visit the seals I can tell that the guy on seal duty was having just the best day. They made Emil so pretty There's an FMV cutscene right smack in the middle of the original game after the battle against Noir. I understand why it was a necessity on a technical level, but it always looked pretty out of place and a little uncanny valley compared to the rest of the graphical fidelity. That's no longer a necessity so this cutscene is rendered in-engine. I admit I was actually curious to see it redone this way and it looks fantastic. I single out Emil since he is the focal point of cutscene and because his particular high-poly model had some pretty weird difference from his in-engine model, but he and Kaine both look great. But, like, it's almost mean how pretty he is.

They made Brother Nier so pretty Yeah okay you got me he's kind of hot. Kaine's expression when she wakes up and looks him over is... significantly easier to read now. Good voice, too. (Ancient rumors tell that one of the issues with international releases of RepliCant was that they couldn't find an English VA with a voice that 'fit' Brother Nier. He sounded good out the gate but hearing him growl "Let's go TAKE CARE of those KIDS" during the thief sidequest-- I got chills. It sounds so silly but there's a kind of percolating fury to that delivery. Papa Nier was like frustrated but mostly disappointed dad; I felt like Brother was going to take care of those kids, and nobody was going to find the bodies. Younger Brother Nier just never stops looking goofy to me but Older Brother just looks great in motion, between the alterations they made to the movement and just the entire weaponry system. The distinction between the two halves of the game was always a little odd in the Gestalt version-- not odd enough to really raise eyebrows if you didn't know about RepliCant, but of course you can tell that this age gape between the optimistic doe-eyed dogooder and a man largely ruled by his fury and calloused by tragedy is what the timeskip was going for. Swab me down and call me Ishmael, it works. Younger Brother wasn't quite clicking with me-- not because of any writing or voicework issues, but I've got Papa Nier on the back of my mind and it's impossible not to compare and contrast the delivery and dialogue between the two. I know that this is intentional, too; Younger Brother is supposed to be that happy-go-lucky video game protagonist, always doing the right thing and helping people, in order to contrast against the man he becomes. Even just edging into Part II the effect is dramatic and it recontextualizes Younger Brother into a much more effective overall character. And let me reiterate, I enjoyed my time with Younger Brother just fine, I have no issues with him. But he's up against Well Meaning Big Dummy Part I Papa Nier. No contest. And I'm excited to see where Older Brother goes from here.

Speaking of voices I mentioned this before but the delivery on the character's lines is different. The entire game was re-recorded and quite a few lines are still pretty similar to the original, but there are some that are... definitely different. Part of this is a difference in the relationship between characters based on their life experience and ages-- Weiss is much more of an ass to Younger Brother but has a much more even respect for Older Brother (neither of which are like the rapport he established with Father). Some of Kaine's lines feel more aloof, dismissive, and almost tired in the front half of the game. I haven't really gotten to a point to dig into Emil's rapport with the other characters, but the delivery feels more hesitant and uncertain (which I think is more in line with his Japanese VO, but I'm prefacing that on an untrained ear and a presumption rather than recent memory). It's been interesting to see not just where hey adjusted dialogue (and how-- there are some lines that didn't need to be rewritten), but also how they adjust tone and delivery. Dealing with Younger Brother is one thing, but as I said, I'm very excited to see what's different in the second half, especially being much more familiar with that part of the game. Speaking of Voices! Halua got dialogue! I... preferred when it was inferred (and the implications of "I'll always be watching over you" are borderline malicious given the results of their fusion dance, yeah THANK YOU HALUA this is GREAT). Halua's delivery also felt a little too innocent and upbeat both for the situation and when compared to her narrative voice in The Stone Flower, where she comes across as much more cynical and cold. But given what she's been through and the nightmare she's finally escaping I guess she's allowed express happiness. She's certainly earned the right to having a spoken line. No matter what. Every fuckin' time.

"Here we go." This was always a great line to kind of ease in to the officially-official start of Part II-- every time you start up a New Game+ you're greeted with Emil musing about his conflation of Halua to Kaine, and then the phrase "Here we go". There's a lot in that one line. On a personal level he's grounding his thoughts in the moment and steeling himself for what comes next and pushing through his pain and sadness and fear. Whatever Nier told him in the facility he's still terrified, desperately terrified, that Kaine -- who was the one who told him his life had meaning -- is going to reject him. And why wouldn't she? Ultimately they don't know each other, not really. He understands at that moment that his relationship with Kaine is based on confused memories of his sister, that maybe the bond he thought they established isn't actually real. As soon as he frees Kaine he's going to have to confront her, like this, and how could she ever-- she won't-- but he can't just leave her. Whatever happens next. Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter. (God it matters.) "Here we go." On a meta level, that's our introduction into the second half of the game. The first half is all prologue. This is where we'll be spending the rest of our time, even to the point that 'New Game+' skips straight ahead to this moment. Now that we've finished the establishment, this is where it all builds and where it all matters. Here we go, audience. The ride starts now. You get up to this point now in Replicant. You get the same lead-in. My dumb ass even whispered "Here we go", because I can't help myself. And he says, of course he says--! "Anyway." ... ...a-anyway? What the hell kind of line is that? "Here's some deeply personal musings that are also an indication of my own discomfort as I babble to myself just to fill the void so I can stave off thinking for just a few more seconds. ANYWAY." What a... bizarre decision. Just bizarre.

Upgraded melee combat The introduction to the armored Shades always feel kind of rough-- the defenses on those Shades are significantly higher than anything you've faced and the new weapons you're given to combat them just aren't that good. (If you got lucky you could have a fully-upgraded Faith by now, which is nearly three times as powerful as the 'heavy' two-handed sword you're given; if you downloaded the 4 YoRHa pack for Replicant you've probably been able to upgrade one of those weapons once, which are also a really nice strength boost that leaves the freebie heavy swords and spears in the dust). As an introduction to the new weapon types it always feels like rough going. But then you get a chance to get decent weapons and the combat system truly opens up, and compared to the first game you really feel it. At this juncture I would always just bustle off to Facade and grab the Phoenix Spear and never look back-- the raw power compared to the rest of your arsenal coupled with the triangle dash is basically the bread and butter of the rest of the game. It's not exciting, but it's effective. No more triangle dashing, which was deeply disappointing... but both weapons definitely feel good. I am also somewhat ashamed to admit that it wasn't until now that I realized attacks weren't just about rhythmic input-- you can hold the attacks down to do different charged hits and combos depending on when you execute them in your combo, similar to Automata. I, uh... I felt a bit dumb. But hey, wow, it's a welcome adjustment and it makes all of the weapon types feel equally valuable for different purposes. I never liked using the heavy blades in the original release because they just felt too slow for the damage output they did, even if their 'point' was mostly to sheer off armor (and they definitely felt too slow for use in crowd control). Now they're still heavy and slower, but not to the point that you're basically leaving yourself open just trying to attack. Spears now do crazy sweeping combos and multi-hits. Both of these properties were borrowed from Automata and I find myself prioritizing melee combat and almost forgetting I have magic because honestly it just feels intuitive and fun. I feel like Kaine and Emil might have gotten a power boost as well? Not that I can really confirm this but going into some of the Junk Heap rooms I'd focus on killing a few robots in the corner and then turn around and just see a field of item drops and no more robots. Don't take my word on that, of course, but they felt a little more effective, and a placebo effect is still an effect. "You're staging a protest? That's fun!" Emil. Rebel without a cause. Will not hesitate to kill you if you trespass on his property. (Might explain the statues in the courtyard, actually.) I'll have to double-check this dialogue because I definitely remember more of a melancholia before we get to roasting marshmallows. I think Papa Nier actually offers to talk to/implicitly threaten the villagers to let them in the Village whereas Brother offers to sleep outside with them... which is actually kind of funny. In the former it comes off as Emil and Kaine maybe kinda-sorta not wanting to be allowed in the Village for their own reasons (they're not happy reasons but they're reasons nonetheless) and reassuring Father that no, it's okay, it's fun! The latter is almost telling Brother to stay inside because he'll ruin their sleepover.

(They're absolutely having giggly girl talk about him outside the gates, 100%.) they ran over the seals All I want in Seafront is to enjoy the music and run out to the big beach and hang out with the last living seals and they put a fucking pirate ship on top of them. Oh, wow. Gideon. Wow. OG Nier featured a Gideon that tried to keep himself together and then had fits of mania. You'd be concerned about him during some of the dialogue but generally speaking he came across as... functional. The delivery on all of his lines is now so insanely murder bonkers, like every line he's addressing you like you're already chained to the wall of his serial killer dungeon and it's glorious. I don't know if the distinction between the games is deliberate (in that Gideon in Gestalt was just more even-keeled between his 'rip 'em apart' snarlings and was always just totally nutso in RepliCant) but I do appreciate it. It's a good mirror to Brother Nier's own anger, which only ever seems to be mollified when he's talking to his friends (even kindly accepting sidequests there's a pretty consistent -- not universal, but consistent -- air of barely-bridled frustration). The other characters that Brother encounters are various reflections of himself if things had just been a little different-- Gideon was a representation of the kind of obsessive madness that would have eaten Brother alive if he hadn't had his network of support. Gideon's constant fury and bloodlust even bleeds into him just saying "What can I do for you?" He has no anchor to keep himself sane, nobody to stay human for; he's all mania, all anger, and he only takes any real interest in Brother on his return because he sees an opportunity to act out his vengeance. After defeating Beepy and Kalil he even goes so far as to not only blame Beepy for killing Jakob, but for also killing their mother, which is patently insane but really speaks to how far his justifications and fury have taken him. Papa Nier responds to his anger toward Beepy by basically backing away slowly and saying "Oookay then". Brother, however, actually commiserates; "That's enough. [...] We get it. We really do." This is definitely one of those moments where Brother's context works better than Father's; he absolutely sees himself in Gideon. He completely understands him and sympathizes. He recognizes the madness of his own quest, he sees where it could take him, and there's a resignation when he speaks to Weiss: "Revenge is a fool's errand." "...yeah." Papa Nier has a similar delivery and similarly implies that he understands how terrible his quest is, but there's something decidedly haunting in Brother's sympathy. Also just verifying something on the wiki and this bit of 'Trivia' really jumped at me:

Gideon is the only character to only cause the deaths of other characters. In his case, he caused a platform to crush Jakob and ordered the deaths of P-33 and Kalil, with P-33 surviving.

Metal AF.

[slxyangel]

Handcuffs (Duff McKagan x Reader)

Summary: Hii! I was wondering if you could write something about Duff and his girlfriend have been fighting on tour. Everyone is annoyed with the fighting, so Axl handcuffs them so they can’t run away and avoid their problems. Thanks. This was requested by  @julessworldd​ and I finally had time to get round to writing it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Wordcount: 2.1k.

Warnings: Some swearing and that’s essentially it.

A/N: The name of the fic sucks super super bad, but I swear it’s funny; tell me your thoughts on it :) Also, get ready for a lot of Duff, bc all of my requests rn are about him. I might leap them with some other works I have in mind *wink, wink*.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

Masterlist: https://slxyangel.tumblr.com/post/189625800403/masterlist

Waves.

The boat is drifting from side to side.

A lot of waves.

Like, a dangerously fucking lot of waves.

What the hell.

Wait, these are not waves.

This is you being carried around in God knows what to God knows where.

And now you are almost violently left (or, more accurately, thrown) in a bed. You open your eyes to see several arms, probably more than two, probably less than six, toying around your recently awakened figure. Seriously, what the fuck?

As you try your best to figure out what is going on, what was going on before you were tossed around under yet to clarify circumstances, and what apparently will still be going on for a while, you identify your captors by their features. Fibrous arms, tan skin, callous hands and a mop of dark curly hair? Pale, tattooed arms, twinky frame and red strands of straight hair? Obviously, it has to be them, it couldn’t be any other people on the planet.

And the milliseconds it takes for you to draw their names in your head are enough time for the skinny diabolic peanut to handcuff your right wrist. Then he backs off, along with his accomplice, just a few steps. Well, not that they have much more space to back off inside a tour bus.

Obviously, it has to be them. It has to be Axl and it has to be Slash. And it has to be the two of them together.

You turn your incandescent eyes from their main objective to the place where your no-longer-free-hand is tied to something else. And that something else turns out to be another hand. Another hand attached to Duff.

- OBVIOUSLY, I’M GONNA FUCKING KILL THE TWO OF YOU.

And this time you say it out loud.

Like, so damn out loud that your boyfriend, now turned into an annoying physical extension of your arm, wakes up from his most definitely no longer peaceful sleep. And when he does, since you are in a tour bus and the place is small and the space is used to the millimeter, he bumps his head against the cupboard strategically placed above him. His blow raises general laughter among his bandmates, who are all around to see the spectacle you two are surely about to give. And when you see Slash waving a tiny metallic key with a mischievous smile, your anger tells you that Mamma didn’t raise no disappointer.

- GIVE ME THAT KEY.

You sit up and stretch your free arm towards the guitarist, but he doesn't give you enough time and immediately puts the key in his mouth, just enough to bite it with his front teeth and show you what he is doing. He can’t hide his smile, or he doesn’t want to. He finally closes his lips around the metallic thingy and it disappears from your view. He hasn’t swallowed it. He hasn’t swallowed it, right??? I mean, he might have, cause it’s Slash. But holy shit tell me he hasn’t.

- This last week with you has been a fucking nightmare -- Axl speaks with voice clear as a day, he is enjoying. Thoughts of the cruelest methods of revenge start pacing your head --, and for “you” I mean you two lovebirds. What are you? Fifteen years old? You can’t be running around yelling at each other, then go with the silent treatment and then come to the rest of us bitching about how the other has pissed your ass so much, this has to end. And since some of these cowards -- now he points at the members of the band who are not handcuffed to your wrist -- were brave enough to complain the same way I am doing right now but not enough to put an end to it, I took matters into my own hands. Well, yours, more exactly. And I’m not gonna take the cuffs off until you talk it out and solve your problems like the adults you clearly aren’t.

- Oh, now that’s surprising -- your answer comes off bitter -- I didn’t know the “adult” way to solve things involved handcuffs.

- Well, you can take them off now because I don’t need this shit to talk to my girlfriend -- Duff finally opens his mouth. He sits up in the bed, right beside you, not that he has many more options. His free hand is covering the spot of his head he just hit with the furniture --. Though now that I mention it, maybe she does.

- Excuse me??? So I am the one running from the problem here??

- See? I told you all she was bitchy.

- YOU TOLD THEM I’M BITCHY?

- Yes he did -- Slash answers your question before Duff has time to, but his words sound weird.Good thing he mustn’t have swallowed the key.

- Slash, we’re trying to solve a problem here -- Steven adds, also looking at the panorama -- so shut the fuck up.

- Sorry mate, she asked.

- Well, sorry to break it up to you  but I’m not the one who’s ignoring her boyfriend here, in fact it’s pretty much the other way around -- your intervention is directed to the general public, since they seem to be so aware of the issue because of someone’s loose tongue. But that someone takes the hint.

- So now I am ignoring you???

- No, now you aren’t ignoring me because you have a fucking handcuff and you can’t run from me like you usually do.

- Oh my god, do I run from you??? -- Duff sounds genuinely shocked. This bastard knows how to play his part in front of the guys, but it won’t wash, not with you.

- No he doesn’t -- Steven adds, always being the advocate for love.

- Yes he does -- that’s Slash, always being the advocate for chaos.

- SLASH!

Now he doesn’t even bother to defend himself, he did it on purpose, he is fucking enjoying. Lowkey, you find that funny, but he obviously hasn’t contributed to the plot for the sake of a solution, but for the sake of drama. I mean, the guy is only missing a bowl of popcorn and the 3D glasses. On the other end of the spectrum there’s Izzy, who hasn’t opened his mouth a single time and looks like and unbothered wine aunt. Like, literally, he has a glass of wine in his hand. And now returning to the point that keeps us here…

- I don’t run from you, babe.

- Ooohhh don’t use the babe card on me right now because we are arguing and I might as well stab you in the eye, Duff.

- Jeeeeeesus, I don’t run from you -- the bassist backs off before your eyes start going up in flames --, I don’t know, I have stuff to do. But you can always talk to me.

- No. I can’t because YOU NEVER HAVE TIME.

- BECAUSE I’M ON TOUR!!!

- OH so since you’re on tour you don’t have time to talk to your girlfriend but you do have time to fuck her??? -- There is a general snort. Well, at least no word from Slash, which is kinda disappointing.

- Holy shit -- Duff has opened his eyes so much it looks like they are gonna jump from his skull and leave the place rolling -- don’t give these fuckers one more thing to pry about because. They. Clearly. Don’t. Need. It. -- He shots deadly glares to each of his bandmates.

- Well, you were the one telling them I am bitchy. For which, by the way, you also have time.

- Jesus Christ how the hell did I think this was a good idea????? -- Axl starts regretting having put handcuffs on both of you, and you don’t blame him.

- Then take off the cuffs -- you suggest, slyly.

- Slash won’t give me the key.

- I wouldn’t have worded it better than that -- the guitarist finally puts the key out of his mouth, but he doesn’t give it away. It must be tiring to try to intervene in someone else’s argument while trying not to choke on metal.

- Then this is what you get for being such a brat -- now Duff is the one calling him out. Good, at least there is one thing you two agree on --. Now, honey, I’m sorry. I never meant to ignore you, but I didn’t notice you were upset about it or anything until this past week. I know things shouldn’t have escalated the way they did,  I guess I was just overwhelmed by everything and I ended up projecting stuff into us two.

- Duff… -- that was so sweet. You actually never thought he would back off so easily, especially since you had been so picky with each other for some time now. -- It’s fair, I’m not mad at you. Actually that’s on me, because I am the one who hasn’t been clear about her feelings lately. I don’t know, I have been feeling a bit off, but I never got round to talk to you about it, because I see you have so much going on around, and so much to do, and so much pressure, but at the same time you are living your dream and you look happy and you deserve to enjoy it. I really didn’t want to be the one to pop the bubble worrying you with my stuff, and I just thought it would eventually vanish. But it didn’t, and I made you pay for something you are not to blame for.

- Babe -- he uses the word with feet of lead this time, just in case your reaction to it resembles the one you had before. But no, now he can definitely use the babe card -- please, I need you to know that you can always talk to me about anything. Always. No matter what. That’s what I’m here for. -- now his handcuffed hand holds yours, and his other hand travels to your cheek. The touch is so tender, so concerned that you can’t help but lean into it and close your eyes for a moment. You hadn’t realized until now how much you had missed that. -- But I need you to tell me, please. I can’t guess what’s going on out of the blue, so please, please, always tell me. I really don’t want us arguing like this again, especially if it has a solution, so let’s communicate from now on. Okay?

You nod against his hand. In the end, it turns out that you only needed to talk, to have a conversation instead of throwing things at each other to see who hits harder. In almost perfect synchronization with each other, you two lean in for a hug. Well, better said, a semi-hug, because let’s not forget that you are handcuffed and basically can’t move your arms. But who cares? You love him so much you feel your heart is gonna burst out at any moment and, now that you finally have him around you, you don’t understand how you were able to live without it for a WHOLE ENTIRE WEEK. Insane.

From your place between Duff’s hair and the scent of his neck, you hear Steven saying “Told ya. Pay me” and Slash responding with a huff, before he slaps what you presume is a banknote in what you presume is the drummer’s hand. So the fuckers have been betting on whether you would or wouldn’t fix things.

- So you fuckers have been betting on whether we would or wouldn’t fix things? -- Duff reads your mind and speaks your words as you two separate from each other. He shakes his head and smiles -- That’s really really ugly, and you really really never disappoint.

- Thanks dude! -- Steven smiles back and Slash doesn’t seem to have anything else to say now that he has a lighter wallet. He even gave the key to Axl -- I just believe in love.

Duff moves his hand up and exposes it along with yours so that Axl can unlock the cuffs. Instead, the vocalist hands him the key and says “You’ve earned it”. Your boyfriend takes the metallic piece and frees your wrist before he frees his. Then, he grabs the handcuffs and the key, he puts them in his back pocket and, winking at you, says:

- If any of you was expecting to have these back, they can go choke on a fork. They are mine, now. For the inconvenience and for the celebration.

[slashiest-slasher]

since you've watched black christmas could you do a poly billy lenz and brahms ficlet???

I’m just going to go under the assumption that the reader hopped across the pond to be Brahms nanny and an obsessed Billy followed for whatever reason

also i just found this new emoticon and it’s 100% Brahms when you don’t give him enough attention or try to leave: (´༎ຶ۝༎ຶ). i’m still trying to characterize Billy so pls forgive for any discrepancies.

Read more bc i ramble for waaay to long lmao. Warnings for classic Billy dirty talk

Billy/Brahms/s/o polyship

All you wanted was to leave behind that entire fucking mess that happened over at your college. All the murders at the sorority you were 100% not supposed to be crashing at, the creepy crank calls that left shivers up your spine, and the distinct feeling there was someone up in your attic.

You thought, hell, I just graduated! Why not take up a job in an entirely different country? If it’ll get you away from the nightmares of all the dead bodies and heavy breathing voices and squeals from the phone.

The instructions you were left were more than cryptic, and the following days when you couldn’t contact the Heelshire’s at their hotel room was even more puzzling. the whole mystery surrounding the doll left your head spinning, but it was the creaking from the walls that sent shivers up your spine.

When a grown, and very hairy man wearing a mask crawled out when you tried leaving just for a walk through town. He had grabbed you shyly by your sleeve and asked you in a small and babyish voice to stay.

For a moment, you were going to run. It was the same, someone hiding within the unseen part of the house, watching you, but the demure way he was presenting himself was nothing like you imagined the Moaner to act like. Then that baby voice clicked, and you knew that this must be Brahms, somehow alive after all those years.

Things were different and the same since then. He was more obvious with crawling through the walls, and you saw more of this man who easily and regularly overpowered you. But he had the temperment of a child and that was easy to deal with, as long as you spoke to him like one.

Yeah, sometimes when you gave him his goodnight kiss he would try pushing things further, and you would have to scold him and tell him that was a very rude thing to do. But in all honestly, it was an easy life to be lulled into, and aside from the occasional nightmare or flashback, that whole mess at the sorority was nearly completely forgotten.

You were pushed into a full relapse when the hallway phone rang while you were preparing. You managed to get Brahms to stir the pot of soup, despite him being barely able to stand from the cold he caught, with him whining about it the entire time.

“Heelshire residence,” yous chirped, leaning against the wall. But all you got in response was dead air. “Hello?” You repeated several times, each time more and more dread rising in your gut.

Eventually, there was a shrill giggle on the other end. “Agnes, it’s me Billy!” he says in a moment of composure. “Don’t tell them Agnes, don’t tell them where you are. It’s just us.” He lets out a heavy, shaking sigh before snorting and snuffling. “I- I’ll fuh- fuck your piggy ass, lick you aaallll up. G-g-give you my f-fat juicy cock!”

Your legs give out underneath you, but you clutch the receiver to your ear. “This isn’t fucking funny! How’d you get this number?” He couldn’t be here, didn’t Jess kill him? And how does some sick fuck like him even get a plane ticket, let alone make it through an airport?

Brahms peers into the hallway, but you shoot him a look and wave him away.

“You wa-want me stick m-my tongue up your pretty pinky ass? Filthy, filthy Billy, I’ll fuck y-y-y-you all good. Know you wants it, seen y-you piggy, seen you all pink and bothered when Billy calls,” he lets out another choking laugh. “I’m going to get you,” he says, before the line goes dead.

The receiver smacks into the wall when you finally let it out of your grasp. You expected there to be tears, for there to be something but heat and dread and anxious excitement roiling deep within, but there isn’t and it makes you sick.

You can hear the gas stove click off, and Brahms walks into the hallway. His eyes bug momentarily when they catch yours and see how blank they are. He scoops you up into his arms and sets you down on a nearby chair. His hands grab your face. “Who was that? Is everything okay?”

You plop your face into his shoulder, and even though you have been increasing the amount of hug you give him the past few weeks, he still flinches. “Just some creep crank calling. Nothing to worry about Brahmsy.”

You have to push yourself up, and lead him back to the kitchen where you finish up dinner, and manage to get him to eat an entire bowl before the heat made him too drowsy to sit upright.

It was quite the task to get up the stairs and into the master bedroom to tuck him in. You go through the entire routine even though there was still light in the sky. He promises to stay in bed the entire night if you kiss him under his mask, and your mind is too far away to clearly deny him.

He covers your eyes with a large, overheated hand when he takes off his mask, and leads you down to press his lips to yours. He, of course, presses more urgently and runs his tongue along your lips, and tries to pull you into bed with him, like he does every night.

“Brahmsy, not tonight sweetie,” is all you can muster up.

“But some night?” How hopeful he sounds makes a weak smile come to your face.

“Lets get you over this cold first, then we’ll see. But if you’re a bad boy and get out of bed in the night, then it’ll be longer.”

Brahms doesn’t even care about you catching a glimpse of his face when he rushes to snuggle underneath the covers you pulled up tight around him, partially hiding his face.

You can see the smile in his eyes when you lean down to place a kiss to his forehead and ruffle his hair. “Call me if you need anything, alright?”

He nods and clutches the blankets tighter, pulling them up higher when you leave the room.

You don’t go back to your own bedroom, and instead head to the main foyer and sit down with a book in your lap, keeping a fixed stare at the main entrance, and Brahms’ hidden ones out of the corner of your eyes. If Billy was going to try and pull something, then let him. He was going to be in for a world of hurt if he disturbed Brahms, or something else entirely if he beelined straight for your.

-

The only reason you never picked up on Brahms crawling through the walls as keenly was, according to him, he knew how avoid making noise. Everything else echoed through the house like a gunshot. Every time Brahms tossed himself to his other side in his sleep, or when the heater clicked on, or the rats (friends, assured Brahms) in the walls scurried around.

So you heard as soon as the unlocked backdoor creaked open and softly shut, and someone padded through the house. You ensured that every window and door, sans that one was shut and locked tightly, and all the lights in that part of the house were turned off.

You didn’t know how he got into the sorority the first time, but you knew the girls there chronically forgot to lock the doors and windows.

Your eyes had adjusted to the darkness, so you could easily see a thin form go by the doorway of the foyer. “Billy,” you called out, loud enough for him to hear, but not enough for Brahms to pick up on.

Unlike his phone calls, he was deathly silent as he backtracked and entered the room. You could see an outline, a lithe man in a turtleneck and shoulder length hair. But the only thing you could see clearly was an eye illuminated by the moon coming a crack in the curtain.

He stood there in the middle of the room, staring you down. In a jerky movement, he lunges for you.

If you hadn’t been dealing with the living Brahms for the better part of a month, you likely would have tried to run, maybe scream, but you sat perfectly still, and gripped his wrist tight when he wrapped a hand around your throat.

He didn’t squeeze, maybe because of how surely and firmly you grabbed him, but let it rest there. Loose, but there was no way you were going to pry his hand off.

“What is it that you want from me Billy?” you asked, grabbing his other wrist, much tighter than the other one. “Do you want to kill me?” Your voice is soft.

He tries stuttering something out, but he can’t get the words to form, and his body shakes too much to keep his gaze on your face.

You can see his eye drift down to look at the rest of your body. “Do you want to fuck me Billy? You followed me all the way here for that?”

“Sick fuck!” he finally manages to get out, his voice not sounding like any you remember hearing over the phone. “Sick fuck! Sick fuck! Need help, Billy needs help. Need to find Billy, need to get Billy the help he needs. Want to give Billy a hug, a good hug, a tight hug. Billy needs a hug.”

It clicks when he rambles. You. That was you. You remember speaking with Claude after a call, because none of the sorority sisters wanted to hear about how the Moaner needed some serious psychiatric care. You held Claude in your your and sat right underneath the attic while you told that silly old cat in a hushed whisper what you really thought about Billy.

You’re just glad he has the hindsight to not bring up what you said right before, about how Billy’s ramblings turned you on, and how you’d probably let him go down on you if the mad lad just asked.

Billy suddenly collapsed into your lap, letting go of your neck. His legs bracketed yours on either side, clutched his hands tightly into the front of your shirt, and hid his face in your neck. Between the snuffles and snorts, you could make out him saying, “Billy wants help, if you give it to Billy. Give soft fuzzies and hugs and kissies.”

You wrap your arms around him, tight and sturdy to keep him pressed to your chest. He quiets down to barely audible muttering, but presses his face closer to your neck, taking in deep breaths of your scent. “I’ll help Billy, as long as Billy wants it.” Your assure him, rubbing his back.

He nods, and for a brief moment, everything is still and calm until the lights of the foyer are flipped on. You’re blinded for a moment until you can make sense of Brahms pulling Billy off of your and onto the floor.

You can see the rage and heat pulsing behind his eyes, a snarl on his unmasked face as he advances on Billy’s stunned and trembling form with a knife he must have snatched from the kitchen.

You don’t really think before launching yourself off the sofa. “Brahms, don’t you dare!” you shout at him, gripping the blade before he can swing it down.

Brahms drops it the instant he sees your blood spilling into the floor, but redoubles when Billy hides behinds your legs and grabs onto them. “You can’t have someone else! I’m the only one you’re allowed to love.” He grabs you by your wounded hand, squeezing tight, but you refuse to falter. He voice drops to his deep, adult voice. “You aren’t leaving me.”

There’s only one way you know how to deal with Brahms when he’s like this, so you square your shoulder and look him in the eyes, squeezing his hand back even tighter, no matter how much it hurt. “Brahmsy you are being an extremely naughty boy. You go back to your room right now and we will talk about this in the morning.”

Something vicious flashes in his eyes, flickering between adult and child. “No!” he stomps his foot. “I’m not letting him take you away from me.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Billy reaching for the fallen knife, so you stand on the blade. “You’re already not getting goodnight kisses for a week because of this, if you want that to be a month, you better get your ass up the bed!”

His eyes widen and he falters. “Y- you’re not leaving?” he asks, letting your injured hand drop.

“Shhh Agnes, don’t tell them we did. Naughty, filthy Billy, they get mad,” Billy whispers, looking up at Brahms. “Billy, Billy where’s the baby? What did you do to the baby?” his voice turns shrill, completely unlike himself.

“Shut up,” Brahms snaps, glaring at him. “He’s not staying here.”

“Yes, he is, because I’m in charge and I say so,” you snip right back, kneeling down to wrap your arms around Billy’s shoulders. “Billy, this is Brahms. We don’t hurt Brahms okay?”

In a voice eerily similar to yours, Billy speaks up again. “Brahms, naughty naughty Brahmsy. Do you know Agnes, Brahmsy?”

[lunaraen]

Prompt: 22. "Who the fuck are you?"

It’s never anything as simple asa broken leg, the flu, or a sprained wrist. It couldn’t possibly be a normalcold, or a headache, or insomnia that wasn’t fueled by trauma or terriblenightmares that required more help than a potion or paste.

Ivor’s job would be a lot easierif it ever were.

“Who the fuck are you?”

The potential complications ofhis role as healer, many of which are unexpectedly emotional in nature, are nothelped by how much of a comedian Petra seems to think she is.

Her dedication to one joke isadmittedly admirable.

(It’s not a joke he’s fond of,given how much it reminds him of how her amnesia and pain had been his fault,caused by his monster, pain and confusion that slowly sapped away at Gabriel’swill, pain and confusion inflicted on who knows how many more people, butIvor’s well past the point of not liking it through the sheer tedium.)

Still, Petra’s humor is oftentied directly to her sense of how much she doesn’t want others to worry, thoughbeing lightheaded might have something to do with it this time.

“Charming.” Ivor rollshis eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in his chair, bothunwilling to go through with her overused, poor excuse for comedy, and relievedthat she’s awake and aware enough to have such poor humor shine through.“Contrary to what you might think, it really isn’t as funny to hear thefifth time.”

“No, seriously, who the fuck are you?”

She never manages to repeat itwithout laughing, or cracking a wide grin, if she even bothers to keep pushingit at all, but there’s no humor to her voice this time, no smile to be found inthe tight frown.

He raises an eyebrow.

Petra’s eyes narrow further, theglare more frightened and nervous than it is heated, one of her hands tightlygripping her wrist as her body seems to curve more into itself.

Lovely.

“…I see.” His gaze isslow, controlled enough to keep it from seeming shifty or as frantic as thebubbling unease in his core would like him to be, as it moves from Petra toJesse, the only other person he allowed to be in the room in order to givePetra plenty of breathing room while letting at least one of the others bethere to greet her. He lifts a hand, having to actively fight to keep itsmovements from being sluggish as he points to Jesse. There’s a twisted humor,he’s sure, in how his gaze fights to be wild and erratic while his body feelsnumb and heavy, but he’s had enough of poor humor. “Do you recognizeher?”

Jesse’s eyes are widened slightlywhen Petra looks to her, Jesse’s smile warm but the rest of her expression notquite yet smoothly shifted from her previously open alarm.

The wave she gives is small andquick, smile widening and stretching enough to let a sliver of her teeth showfor just a moment, and while Ivor wouldn’t expect it to be calming, Jesse’s thebetter of them when it comes to soothing others and being friendly with peoplein tense situations.

“…nope. I didn’t even knowthere was anybody standing there, so that’s nice and creepy. Uh, hey.”Petra’s wave is weak, little more than her raising her hand with a lingeringglance in Jesse’s direction before gripping her arm once more, gaze shiftingbetween Jesse and Ivor. If she has anything more to say, even solely out of adesire to break the awkward silence, she doesn’t act on it.

Jesse doesn’t either, meaningthat, once again, it’s up to Ivor.

He’s very, very tired of today,and it’s little consolation that they’ve finally reached the afternoon.

“What’s the last thing youremember?”

The sound she makes is almost toogentle to be a growl, quiet and weak, and there’s a lack of any bite to how hereyes narrow.

“Y'know I’m expecting to geta whole lot of answers from you too, right?” Her tone’s dry, expressionrelaxing as she glances down at her fingers, busy drumming them against thetable as she shrugs. “…I remember it being dark, and I heard voices. I–we were moving? I think? It felt like I was tied up.”

The last part is pointed andIvor’s huff is its own bitter chuckle, though it takes half a moment to realizethat it doesn’t relax Petra the way it once did, invites no bickering orexasperation on her part.

He’ll give her credit; it’s apowerful glare.

The smile he gives is as genuineas the huff, but better controlled, easier to mold to be more clear about his intentions.

Gentle, less sarcastic, notpatronizing but not threatening.

“You were brought here onhorseback. From the sound of it, Axel had a decent grip on you, and you’d beenbundled in blankets to keep you from growing cold.”

When Ivor points to the pile ofblankets sitting on the floor beside the table, her gaze is reluctant tofollow.

She doesn’t argue, though, andher shoulders relax as she looks back up at him.

“That’s also sort of thefirst and only thing I remember too.I feel like I should have a lot more than just that. What’s an ‘Axel’?”

“He’s a fr– person youknow.” Convincing her that she likes them and is meant to feel safe herein their temple, her home, will take more than calling people she can’t recallfriends and brushing off her paranoia of having been attacked and tied up.“The reason you don’t know who he is right now is because you haveamnesia. Congratulations, you’ve somehow managed to once again snatch the titleof ‘sudden amnesiac’.”

“What’s amnesia?” Shepauses, her frown seemingly not directed at him this time as she looks away,brow furrowing and her nose scrunched. “And why do I feel like I reallyshouldn’t have to ask?”

“Amnesia refers to losingyour memories–feeling like you know how to do things or what some things arewithout remembering how you learned about them in the first place.” Shedoesn’t say anything to that, which is fair. For all she knows, he’s lying, buthe doubts she has any better explanations for her patchy memory, or overalllack thereof. “First rule of mining.”

Her response is almost instant,words certain if short, and there’s a confident humor to them that’s beenmissing so far, the most Petra-like thing he’s heard from her.

“Never dig straightdown.” A pause. Then, a frown, her head tilting to the side as she shrugs,upper lip curling as she watches him, gaze distasteful and unsure all at once.“I can’t tell you why that’s thefirst rule, though.”

“Exactly, but any miner, oranyone who’s ever held a pick or shovel, could.”

“I don’t think it’s supposedto make my head hurt.”

“Usually not.” Ivor reachesinto his bag, absently rearranging several of the vials and corked bottlesbefore retrieving two small healing potions. Glancing up before he straightenslets him know that Petra’s still intently watching him, her brow furrowed morebut the rest of her expression less pinched. “That rule’s because of lavaflows and underground chasms, if you were wondering.”

“What’s lava?”

He nearly drops one of the vials,fingers belatedly curling tighter around it as he presses them into Petra’shands, not letting go until he’s sure she’s holding them.

“Alright, and it seems thereare some things you’ve just forgotten entirely.” He smiles, perhaps a bittoo wide with too forced a chuckle as he meets Jesse’s gaze, both of themglancing at each other, before he looks back to Petra. “It’s notunexpected. You were the same way the last time you had amnesia. This time, wehave better access to healing potions. When you drink those, that should helpwith the pain.”

He wonders how much pain she wasin last time, how much he could’ve helped but didn’t. Would it have mattered ifshe spoke up?

Would he have been too bitter todo anything other than look down on her for it and try not to let the guiltconsume him, the way he tried and failed at the time to keep from being slowlyeaten alive by the earned guilt that came with Ellegaard’s death?

It doesn’t matter. It just feelslike it does.

“Last time?” Petrafiddles with one of the corks, twisting it absently before tugging it out,glancing up at him again before peering down at the potion, one eye closed andthe other squinting as she swishes the potion just enough to make theconcoction bubble and froth. “So, is this like… a me thing? Or a regularthing?”

“It’s very much not.”Ivor snorts, flicking the bag shut as Petra empties the vial, hesitating beforeshe tilts it back. It doesn’t last long, though there doesn’t have to be muchfor it to be strong, and she’s grimacing before she begins drinking the secondone more quickly. “But you do seem to have that sort of luck. The lasttime was far more complicated; you were terribly sick, and it wasn’t until theWitherstorm was killed that your memory returned.”

Petra mulls that over as sheplays with the now empty vials between her fingers, the way she often playswith them after needing potions, probably trying to decide which questions sheought to bother asking. 

Her fingers still as the glass begins to slip, and hermovements are more stiff, rigid once again as she quickly sets them down besideher on the bed.

While she does, Ivor’s gazetrails to the necklace she’s wearing, no doubt looted from the ruins they’dentered, and he wonders just how he forgot to take it off when he was removingher armor, worried about her vitals and potential poisoning or other causes offainting.

…actually, the panic andover-bubbling of feared potentials probably had something to do with him notbothering to mess with something as trivial as a trinket that wasn’tobstructing any examinations.

Still, looking at it now, hecan’t believe he hardly spared it a thought, practically overlooking it.

It shines brighter than thelighting or even more colorful glow of nearby potions should allow, glintingwarmly in a way that all but demands attention.

He can’t imagine how he missedit.

Granted, Ivor can’t imagine howhe’s begun to hold the pendant before even realizing his hand has moved, thathis fingers are curling around warmed metal.

Given that Petra’s been wearingit, it’s no surprise that it’s warm.

What is surprising is the way itthrums, pulses beneath his fingers in the brief moment before Petra herselfshoves his hand away.

The wordless snarl is deep andquick, sharper than a growl and with more barbs, and Petra doesn’t even seemaware of it herself, expression melting back to curiosity as he pulls his handback and as her own falls back to her side.

She doesn’t seem aware of how hereyes respond either, not that it’s surprising when she doesn’t seem to haveregistered her own growl. Ivor’s aware of it, though, all too aware of how hereyes flash with light not their own, narrowed and burning with energy thatdemands attention, bright and powerful and somehow dim in comparison to thefire and determination normally burning in Petra’s eyes.

Beyond the more emotional,spiritual comparisons, her eyes also flash with actual light, pale and ghostlyand as quick as the snarl, looking almost more like a warning flare or thrum ofmagic.

Ah, lovely. It couldn’t just be arelapse or regular amnesia, could it?

“Well, if killing a– awhatever you said fixed it before, can’t you just… kill it again?”

He takes a bit too long torespond, staring at her and utterly lost before remembering that they have beencarrying out a conversation, up until this point.

“I’m afraid that’s no longeran option to us.” Ivor gets to his feet, nearly bouncing with what hehopes seems like optimism instead of alarm. “However, I do have a fewideas for how to handle this.”

Jesse’s watching them now, nolonger busy staring at her hands, but there’s no alarm to her expression, nofear like Ivor’s busy shoving aside. With their luck, she didn’t see it, maybeonly heard the snarl, but Ivor’s more than willing to fill her in.

After all, he has his fair shareof questions to ask her.

However, the time and place arenot here and not now, not in the infirmary with Petra looking more lost thanscared and Ivor desperately trying to remember passages from texts older thantheir world itself. He’ll just have to remedy the setting a bit.

“Ah, Jesse, you were therewhen Petra passed out. I’d like to ask you a few more questions, just so I cannarrow our options down to something realistically helpful. Do you mind if westep out for a minute?”

The last part, directed at Petrayet again, is almost sickeningly sweet in how it’s said, but it’s too late totake it back.

Lucky for them, she seems morebothered by the idea than the tone.

“…sure? I mean, you’recoming back, right?”

Too innocent, too insecure.

(Too Petra? Or too clearlymisleading, too obviously crafted to capture his attention and soften hisguard?)

“Right. Just sit tight– anddon’t touch anything.”

It’s as quick a relaxed exit asIvor can make, though his own hastiness is easily tempered by how he and Jessehave to pause in the doorway, waiting for the others to back up enough fromwhere they’d been eavesdropping to let the two of them out into the hallway.

They have the decency to not fakesudden regret and look ashamed, sheepish as their smiles may be.

That’s alright. He has thedecency to not look surprised.

Ivor prods Jesse to the side, notclosing the door behind them fully even as he motions for the rest of them tomove away from it.

It may be a dangerous game to play,making it easier for it to hear them, but he’d much rather be able to hearPetra moving should she try anything, and he’s had enough practice by thispoint to nearly master the art of being scathingly quiet while still very muchscathing.

And the rest of them have had thepractice to follow his lead when he lowers his voice so much.

“I thought Harper wasexaggerating when she said you’d all get into trouble without propersupervision.” The issue is, as accurate a statement as it is, it onlyleaves them chastised to the point they’d have expected from going on anadventure only to bring back an unconscious teammate. They all certainly looklike they’ve felt bad enough about that aspect. It might even be fitting for anamnesiac teammate. All the same, it’s not fitting for their current dilemma,and they have the right to know it just as much as Ivor has the right to not bethe only one ridiculously worried. “So, when did Petra go and get herself possessed, exactly?”

Jesse blinks at him beforegrinning widely, all teeth and somehow double the nervous energy he thought shecould have.

He misses Harper. Her advice cutsthrough confusion the way his own thoughts don’t, her knowledge wouldundoubtedly be a bonus in this situation, and the general support would begreatly appreciated.

Ideally, they’ll have this littlematter taken care of by the time she returns from her latest community projectfor Crown Mesa, and she won’t have to worry about it.

He misses and envies her.

“…please tell me you’rekidding and that I’m not supposed to actually answer that?” Ivor doesn’tbother reacting in any way, arms remaining crossed over his chest as his gazestays unimpressed and solely on Jesse. “Oh, great. Just now? Or, well,just before we left the ruins, when she passed out?”

“I’d rather say that’s notPetra at all, if only because that makes pest control much easier.” Heknows better than to think a creature capable of mimicking another’s form willbe easy to finish off, but there would certainly be less emotional baggage orethical concerns about, say, tricking it into drinking a fatal potion orslicing its head off while its back was turned. “But I’m fairly certainit’s still her. Most mimics are… shoddy at best, and rather grotesque atworst. Given that she has the right number of limbs, fingers, eyes, and thather scars seem to be exactly the same, possession’s more likely. The thing’susing her as a vessel, of sorts. It might be aware and might have wiped hermemory, or it might be pretending, or it might not know much of anything itselfeither. Possessions tend to be much more trouble than they’re worth.”

He has little firsthandexperience with them, though not none, and what he lacks in personal experiencehas been more than made up by the flurry of warnings in any book or scrolldetailing anything remotely related to possession.

“How could it possess her?Or, why Petra, and not all of us?” Ivor chokes off the snide remark beforeit can enter his throat or think to reach his treacherous tongue.

He may be tired and as unhappy asthem about this, but those are fair questions and it would be pointless to snapat or blame Lukas for asking. The closest experience any of them have to such asituation, especially Lukas, is PAMA, and its constant desire for dominationand expansion had been a bit of a theme.

“I don’t suppose you foundfive of those necklaces, did you?”

Any follow-up questions seem todie then and there, realization mixed with regret, and he’s further contentwith his decision to be more manageably snarky.

“We weren’t even expectingto find one. We probably would’ve missed it if Lukas hadn’t found a hiddenchest.” It could easily be phrased as an accusation, as pinning the blameon Lukas for inviting this trouble into their team, this entity into their friendand home, but Olivia sounds quiet and more factual than anything, nearlynonchalant even as one of her hands tugs on her hair while the other tightlygrips her arm.

Lukas still looks like he expectsIvor to blame him; lucky for him, Ivor hasn’t the time to entertain the notion,or half the stomach for it. Even if he did, a fight is the last thing theyneed, and he’d never solely blame Lukas for such a matter.

(The borrowed quills Lukas hasn’treturned are a different issue, but even that can be handled in a direct butcivilized manner and at a more appropriate time.)

“Was there anything else inthat chest?”

“Not anything more than afew cobwebs and a layer of dust.” Lukas rubs the back of his neck, halfsmile weak even as his voice falls lower and he clears his throat. “I, uh,I probably would’ve put it on if Petra hadn’t.”

“You mean if you two hadn’tfought over it until Jesse made you knock it off.”

Bickering is regular enough to beworth immediate reporting, but Ivor wonders how he’s only hearing this partnow, as Lukas’s ears pinken to the point of rivaling Petra’s hair in color.

“We weren’t fighting.”

Lukas’s own silent plea to Jesse,his eyes wide and too forcibly innocent, is met with nothing but a weak shrug.

“You guys were gettingpretty riled up.”

“Oh, come on, that’s justhow Petra is. She’s super competitive.”

“Like you aren’t?” Axelhas a point, the verbal nudge said quietly and as gently as anything else, thoughIvor doubts there are any of them are missing at least a slight tendency forbeing competitive. Perhaps to illustrate that point, while Lukas’s face returnsto something of a more normal color, his eyes narrow as he weakly glares up atAxel. It’s a more wounded look than anything, and Ivor’s beginning to wonder ifthe heightened tension is helped any by this possession business.

(The emotional fallout is sure tobe a mess, however this goes.)

Olivia doesn’t let Lukas arguethat one, stopping a squabble between him and Axel before it can begin, and ifIvor has half his sanity after this ordeal, he’ll be sure to thank her for it.An extra healing potion ought to do.

“Lukas, you insulted hersword and said she was just confused and ungrateful. And cocky.”

“Only because she called me a hack and said my booksonly sold well because I was milking our fame and riding your guys’coattails–” Lukas, still whispering even as he begins to hiss, pauses,wincing as his posture slumps and visibly loses steam. “Okay, yeah, it gotkind of heated.”

His smile is once again sheepishas his shoulders slump and he combs his fingers through his hair, other handhanging limp at his side, suddenly rather interested in watching his shoesscuff the floor.

“Only kind of?”

“Well, it’s nice knowing weonly said that stuff because of whatever was in that pendant.” Lukas’s handpauses before falling past his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.“…I probably should’ve realized it was cursed before Petra passed out.”

“Nobody else did.” Jesse touches his shoulder, voice as gentle as her movements. Ivor knows better than to hope she doesn’t blame herself. Her smile weakens, doing a poor job of looking any less guilty as she looks back to Ivor, voice stronger but no louder. “Petra gloated for a little bit, but it was just teasing and it didn’t last long anyway, not after she collapsed onto Axel.”

“Hey, better me than thefloor. Maybe those bricks were a million years old, but they were still roughand solid. I don’t know if Petra’d really care about the blood stains, butfainting sucks enough with getting a concussion or cracking your headopen.”

It’s an unpleasant mental image,even if the damage would likely be limited to less drastic consequences thanthat by Petra’s helmet.

(Ivor may just give them allextra healing potions after this. 

They certainly seem to have earned it.)

“So Lukas and Petra foughtover an oddly shiny piece of jewelry almost immediatelyafter finding it, becoming uncharacteristically surly and cruel, and Petrapassed out only a few minutes after donning it?”

“If you’re trying to say itwas obvious that the necklace was cursed…”

“Yeah, we know, we’regetting that.”

(For as dry as his words are, asslow and sarcastic as he feels his tone has the right to be without beingoverly mocking, Ivor’s not sure he can blame them.

They clearly knew something waswrong when she passed out.

They clearly weren’t comfortablewith the bickering.

They just also didn’t find it souncharacteristic that Petra and Lukas easily turned on each other, and giventhe nature of their past few arguments, Ivor doesn’t blame them.

He’s also not sure what thatsays.

What it means, when he knows hewouldn’t have thought much odd about Lukas and Petra bickering, not even whenit took a turn into being nasty and sharp. Maybe he’s more used to the ideathat friends can turn on each other. Maybe they’re all just a little more usedto Petra and Lukas growing snippier with each other than they once were, barbsjagged and hooked as personally cutting insults and snide comments haveovertaken gentler teasing.

All friends fight; it’s just notcomforting that every group Ivor’s seen has undergone a schism of some sort.It’s even less comforting when he considers how Lukas already knows the pain oflosing dear friends, how Petra’s been lonely enough in the past to never wantto return to that. They should know better.

Once, he thought they did.

It’s disturbing, but not asdisturbing as the possessed warrior still sitting on the examination table, onedoor away in a room filled with some of his best and most powerful potions.

Craning his neck to peer into theroom, the door left cracked open just enough to let him view the table, Ivor’slips tug into a frown as Petra begins– well, as her current host beginsswinging its legs, still perched right where she was left. The expression maybe more curious than Petra’s normally is, but the pose is familiar, even moreso as its fingers begin drumming lightly against the table the way hers alwaysdo when she’s in for her checkups, or dragged in by someone else for treatmentof her wounds.

Familiar, unexpected, and fullydisturbing.)

“How do we fix it?”

“If I took over somebody’sbody, and if it was as big a pain as Ivor makes it out to be, I wouldn’t wantpeople to just shove me back out.” Axel’s grin is brief but wide, toothyand slightly maniacal, matching the brief glint in his eye as he looks to therest of them. “They’d have to fight me for it.”

The smile weakens once Olivianudges his ribs, the jab itself quick and as short lived as the grin.

Spoken like a true griefer king.

(There’d been a time when Ivorhad thought Magnus an oddity, even among griefers. He’s since learned well thatMagnus was just part of one particular, peculiar breed.)

“Quite. It won’t just handher body back over if we ask nicely. However, it reacted poorly when Iattempted to touch the pendant.” Poorly may be an understatement, but anentity wishing to fit in would have no reason to overreact if the necklacewasn’t important to it in some way. “Getting it away from her may be thebest, or only, solution we have. The question then, of course, is if taking thecursed item from her will transfer the curse.”

“Which means…?”

“It’s possible whoevermanages to successfully remove the necklace will remove the spirit or entityfrom Petra, allowing it to either roam to a new host or be transferred intotheir own body.”

Olivia winces, the answer likely as unpleasant as she expected to get but unpleasant all the same.

“Oh. Great.”

“What if removing thenecklace doesn’t remove it?” Jesse’s holding onto her chin, briefly bitinginto her finger as she glances at the others. “Or it ends up possessingall of us when it’s free?”

There’s a fixation on thatpossibility, of overwhelming and total possession, that Ivor would maybe have aharder time understanding if he didn’t know how familiar they were with theterrifying idea of being controlled against their wills, if their most hatedpoints didn’t come from being unable to help each other or do anything otherthan watch chaos and harm unfold upon their friends, if he wasn’t as horrifiedof the idea and as frustrated by not being able to save them.

And, frankly, Ivor knows justenough about possession to know how unreliable and hectic it can be, and heknows so little about this situation that he can’t rule out the possibility.

“That’s why none of you willbe attempting to remove the necklace.”

“What?” For all theirback and forth today, it’s the one question they have no problem with agreeingon, incredulous and confused enough to border on raising their voices just abit too much.

He’s quick to shush them, butthey don’t seem anymore understanding of his answer.

“Not right now, at least. Ineed to do more research, and if it’s only faking being oblivious, it’scertainly suspicious enough after my attempt. Don’t forget that it’s currentlyinhabiting one of the best warriors out there, one we would all rather nothurt.” There’s some shifting, each of them once again avoiding his gaze. Theymay be more understanding of his reasoning, but none of them seem particularlyplacated by it. “We don’t need to give it more reason to act out, or toharm Petra, until we’re certain removing the item will safely remove theentity.”

“And if it won’t…?” Lukas leans his shoulder against the wall, jacket sliding against the quartz perhaps just a bit more than he expected. 

Still, he does a good job of hiding his surprise behind a raised eyebrow and lips that aren’t quite twisting into a frown, and it’s yet another fair question, yet another concern they have to worry about.

Ivor wishes he had a fair answer.

“Then we’ll have to figureout a compromise that’s safest for everyone. Until then, we’ll just have toplay along.“ 

Which is hardly comforting. 

Ivor glances back at the door,waiting a few moments until he’s sure everything seems as he left it. Close enoughto his expectations, at least, Petra not having gotten to her feet even as shecontinues to fidget and look around, seemingly far more interested in hersurroundings than the hushed whispers she hopefully can’t hear. Curiosity seemsso innocent, but it goes hand in hand with strategizing and plotting.

Ivor sighs, expression softeningas he looks at the others, well aware his smile is weak and strained but stilla smile, still as gentle and warm as his voice becomes.

“Don’t look so miserable.You’re heroes of how many worlds now? You know how to be careful.” Hestretches his arms out in front of him, fingers interlocked and palms facingaway from his body as he straightens up, knuckles popping as quietly as hisback before his hands return to his sides. “Now, the rest of you can starttrickling in. It’ll be expecting some company, if it thinks we’re really herfriends.”

If that’s all it suspects, thenit hardly knows anything at all. 

They’re her family, as much as she’s theirs, andits influence on them has been wholly unwelcome and undesired, just like itscurrent residence in Petra.

Ivor huffs again as he opens thedoor, muttering to himself as Jesse gently pushes past him and Axel followssuit, their steps more cautious than the hurried scuttle away from the door hadbeen just minutes ago.

Ivor’s words are grumbled and lowenough that he can hardly hear himself over the others’ footsteps and his own,hardly hear himself over Axel and Jesse’s friendly but not too forcedintroductions, hardly hear himself over the theories and ideas beginning totake root in his mind.

“Notch knows we’ve certainlyfaced worse than a dangerous amnesiac.”

[rainbowtransform]

The Means To An End

THIS IS A PRO-TONY FIC. DON’T READ IF YOU DON’T LIKE TONY STARK, OKAY? Read it on A03.

Summary: Snippets of before and after Civil War.

Tony gifts the Compound, so that the Avengers have a place to train, and be safe.

Tony gifts the Compound so that they have a place to have Movie Night.

Tony gifts the Compound so the Avengers can be a family.

They throw it back in his face like it’s nothing.

The first time Tony has nightmares he doesn’t know why. FRIDAY monitors, but she can only do so much. FRIDAY’s still young, and Tony doesn’t say anything because he doesn’t want to pressure her into being something she can’t be.

Tony yawns as he shuffles toward the kitchen. He’s got some leftover tea that Rhodey gave to him. It’s Mama Rhode’s tea and it always helps Tony fall asleep without nightmares. But when he gets there, he searches through the cabinets only to find nothing.

Blinking, Tony turns his head towards the living room. All of the Avengers are sitting on or around the couch, drinking out of cups. Tony hears one of them praising Wanda for finding this “really good tea” and for “sharing” and that “it was so deep in the cabinet”.

And Tony knows that it’s Mama Rhode’s tea. He turns back, and subjects himself to a sleepless night in the lab.

The second time, Tony is tired, upset, and scared . He doesn’t know why his mind is torturing him with this kind of information. He’s been going to a therapist for a few weeks, and it’d helped. Really . It helped him eat more often (not as often as the therapist liked, but they were getting there), and slept for at least half of the night.

He doesn’t sleep for even a third of the night now. Instead, he works on gauntlets, wings, armor, shields, and spy things for Nat. FRIDAY keeps him up-to-date with the time, and when each of the Avengers get up.

Wanda’s always up early, though. Tony doesn’t know why.

Tony’s nightmares worsen the third time.

The fourth time, Tony barely falls asleep.

The fifth time Tony’s mind hurts.

The sixth time, Tony doesn’t leave his room.

The seventh time, Tony doesn’t even go to his room.

Tony’s nightmares got progressively worse as the months passed.

Tony should have seen it coming. Really. He should’ve. But he didn’t. Instead, he ignored the signs and ignored how much Wanda’s hatred had deepened in her heart. FRIDAY asks with a hesitated “Boss?” and Tony just shakes his head. “It’s okay, Fri,” he says. “I’ll bring it up with Steve at a later time.

FRIDAY’s grown for the past five months, and Tony’s proud of her. She’s learned snark, sass, and knows how to deal her way around the Compound. She hasn’t surpassed JARVIS, yet, but Tony knows it’s only a matter of time.

“I can alert the police, Boss. Or, call Xavier?”

“No. Who’s Xavier?”

“He runs a mutant school. I managed to find him.”

“By accident?”

“No.”

“On purpose?”

“I worry.”

“I know.”

Tony brings it up to Steve, and Steve brushes him off .

“She’s just a kid. She can’t control her powers yet, it’s okay.”

“Ste-”

“Tony. Relax. You don’t see any of us complaining about nightmares.”

“But St-”

“You know, I can’t believe that you’re trying to blame Wanda for losing control, after what you’d done at the last mission.”

“I already explain-”

“Goodbye, Tony. Go get some rest, you look tired. Oh, and don’t tell the others about this. We don’t want anyone to fear her, right?”

“Should I call Xavier, Boss?”

“No, Fri. I think we’ll keep this in-house.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Neither do I, baby girl. Neither do I.”

Tony brings it up to Sam, when he goes to talk to him. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he tells him. “They’re really vivid. They aren’t supposed to be that vivid.”

“It’s your guilt manifesting itself,” Sam says. He doesn’t say anything else, and Tony blinks.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. That’s how it always is, Tony.”

“It can’t be anyone else?”

Sam stops. “Tony,” he says. “Are you implying someone’s messing with your brain?” He looks angry. Tony puts up his hands.

“No, no,” he says. “It’s hypothetical.”

Tony doesn’t talk to Clint, but he knows Clint isn’t going to do anything.

Wanda’s like his kid, so Clint isn’t going to do anything to stop her, and it’d be like Tony’s the villain.

He doesn’t say anything.

“I think someone’s making me have nightmares.”

“Stark, that’s ridiculous.”

“Nat-”

“Are you suggesting that Wanda is messing with you?”

“N-”

“I knew you’d sink low, but that low? God, she can’t control her powers.”

“I wa-”

“I don’t even want to hear it.”

Tony doesn’t sleep anymore. Pepper, Rhodey, and FRIDAY worries.

(Vision’s with Wanda, her trying to convince him that them dating is a “good idea” despite him being only a year old.) (Does that make Wanda a pedophile?) (Because Vision’s only a year old.) (But he looks older.) (Sleep-deprived Tony isn’t the best Tony.)

The Avengers give him a fucking intervention.

“Tony, we’re here to clear something up once and for all,” Steve tells him.

“Watch, Stark,” Clint snaps. “Wanda, hey, are you messing with Tony?”

She blinks. “Messing? Well, I can’t control my powers very well and they might’ve accidentally messed with Stark’s mind.”

“See? Accidents,” Natasha says briskly and Sam nods.

“Stop asking around now, Stark,” Clint says before they leave.

His nightmare that night? It’s the worst one he’d seen so far.

Tony’s nightmares continue, and worsen and Tony breaks.

He leaves the Compound and goes back to his Tower.

It’s better. So much better. He can sleep.

Civil War mess happens.

Tony’s heart hurts.

He recommends Vision to a therapist. “This will help us,” Tony tells him.

“You don’t have the best role models for good human relationships. You were just thrust into this life without any warning. But that’s okay. This’ll help us out.”

He spys Vision reading a book titled The Signs of Toxic Relationships.

Tony almost cries with relief.

He doesn’t quite know how to work with T’Challa. He’s hiding the Ex-Avengers, isn’t he? And it’s hard to place himself out on a limb. The Dora Milaje seem nicer than normal, and Tony’s pretty sure it’s because they’ve actually met Rogers and his ragtag team.

“Boss? Pepper called. She asked if you can take on a few board meetings.”

“Yeah. How many?”

“Just three. She said the first one is for SI, the second for Wakanada rejoining the world, and the third… for the Rogers and his team’s punishment if they come back.”

“Mmm,” Tony jabs a screwdriver into SI’s new phone. “The first two I can get to, but the last one is difficult.”

“You don’t wanna go?”

“I do. I do. But I know that Ross is in jail, and the other Ross (the better one) is in charge, so he won’t be as hard. Plus, there’s the fact that this tablet’s supposed to have holograms (which it will), but I’m having some trouble implementing certain things.”

“The holograms of you as a kid, rocking out to any AC/DC?”

“Those, and the new phones I’ve recorded.”

“Those are funny.”

“Yeah, and anyone smart enough to hack it’ll, get a nice surprise.”

“Wakanda?”

“Wakanda.”

“You put a hologram specifically for my country?”

Tony pulls two wires out and readjusts them. “Uh-huh.”

“ Why ?”

He yanks a blue wire out. “Why not?”

“The technologists and Shuri are quite upset.”

“Why?”

“They wanted to see the hologram of you dancing again.”

“Huh,” Tony closes the door. “That’s funny. I’ve used that same video for most of my electronics. I just wanted a kid to be happy.”

“Shuri’s also angry. She can’t hack the game you’d implemented.”

“Yeah. She’s smarter than me, but I’ve got some experience. She’ll be able to hack it later.”

“Later?”

“When she’s older.”

“How much older?”

“Nice try, Kit-Cat. She’ll know when.” Tony places the prototype aside and the call ends.

Tony’s nightmares hadn’t gone away, but they aren’t as vivid as before.

They also aren’t as frequent. (Which is how Tony knows that Wanda kept doing it, ever after Tony told the others. And after he’d made it known what was happening when he moved out.)

“Boss?”

“What’s up?”

“King T’Challa’s calling.”

“Answer,” Tony squints at the Avengers’ designs he’d been planning.

“Mr Stark,” T’Challa’s smooth voice fills the room.

“Hey, Kitty,” Tony says. He opens up Black Widow’s file and then crumbles them and throws them into the garbage. FRIDAY gets to work erasing it quickly.

“It seems that a visit is in order.”

“Yeah?”

“Shuri is itching to meet you. She wishes to… crush you.”

“Yeah, a lot of people wanna do that. Is she still angry over the game?”

“Quite.”

“Ha.”

He’s barely out of bed when someone’s knocking at the door. Blearily rubbing his eyes, he opens it to T’Challa’s poker face and his sister’s bright grin.

“What’re those?” She asks and Tony blinks. He points a finger at her. “It’s seven thirty in the morning, and I haven’t had any coffee. No memes.”

She frowns. “At least my FBI agent would have appreciated me.”

“Your FBI agent cries every night because you don’t go to sleep until three o’clock. He has a family . I’ve spoken to him.”

T’Challa rolls his eyes. “Why?” He says.

“Just wait ‘till Peter gets here. He’s your age.” Tony tells Shuri.

“I will corrupt him,” she says. Tony nods.

“Too late, though,” he tells her and she slams her fist down.

“Damn it!” She shrieks.

It’s different, Tony realizes, from Bruce. Shuri’s mind takes leaps and big gaps through her process and Tony can replicate it. But she’s just like him when he was young: doing things that shouldn’t be done. Peter and Shuri are the next best thing the world has to offer, and Tony knows. He knows that them together they will be able to save the world from anything.

Tony’s part isn’t over yet, but he knows it will be soon enough. But sitting with Shuri on his right helping him build Extremis, he knows that it’s going to be okay.

When Tony lays dying, at his last war, he stares up at the stars. The suit is crushed around him, he’s just laying there, and FRIDAY’s talking to him. But his part is over now.

“Boss? Is this what happened to JARVIS?”

“Not exactly.”

“Your heart rate’s dropping.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t leave me,” she begs, but Tony just smiles. It hurts, but it’s starting to numb.

“You won’t be lonely.” He tells her. “You’ve got DUM-E, ButterFingers, U, Shuri, Peter.”

“But they aren’t you!”

“You’ll be okay.”

“No! No! Please!”

“It’s okay…”

“Boss? Boss!”

“…”

“Mr Stark? Mr Stark!”

“Tony!”

“Iron Man!”

“Tony, answer!”

“Stark, stop playing!”

“Peter…”

“Mr Stark! Why aren’t you answering? Karen! What’s wrong?”

“FRIDAY is shut down.”

“Why?”

“Tony Stark is dead.”

When the fight is over, that’s when people mourn. Tony Stark was the one who’d learned what the people wanted and bowed to their whims. Iron Man was the one who’d flew a nuke into space.

Pepper cries.

Rhodey doesn’t speak to the Exvengers.

T’Challa doesn’t leave his country for a few days.

The Dora Milaje sit for long periods of time.

Shuri doesn’t enter her lab for weeks.

Peter patrols as Spider-Man for hours without pause.

The Exvengers don’t mourn like they would if any one of them died. Instead, they attend the funeral, and doesn’t say anything.

Vision turns away from Wanda’s advances, and sits by Tony’s grave for two months. He disappears, and they don’t hear from him again.

Tony gifts FRIDAY, and the bots to Peter and Shuri.

They aren’t going to be much trouble, promise. They are intelligent creatures, guys. Treat ‘em like they are, cause I know you would. Take care of Vision, too, because he’s going to be “truly” alone for the first time in his life.

But when they enter the lab, DUM-E, ButterFingers and U are sitting in the middle of it, staring at the chair and prototypes. DUM-E beeps at Peter, running circles and opening and closing his claw; ButterFingers shrieks, and U is silent.

“Guys,” FRIDAY says, and the two teens are taken back. “Boss is dead. The Mechanic is dead.”

The beeps trail off, and then DUM-E lowers his claw, and shuts down. ButterFingers and U follow suit; and then FRIDAY does, too. Everything in the Tower and the Compound shuts down, and then the emergency power comes back.

Peter and Shuri are left, alone, in a lab of the greatest mind of his century.

[berserkhamster]

Stimulus

Based on an unanswered prompt from @imaginetonyandbucky

"Can someone write something about how Bucky has an issue with squeezing things when he gets upset/worried/etc, and Tony ends up giving him play-dough as a joke, but it ends up really helping him because it gives him something to mess with?"

Read it on AO3 Stimulus by PrinecofBadassery

Tags: pre winterirontony stark cares a lotbucky barnes needs hugMental IllnessStimmingAutism SpectrumAnxiety Disordertony stark is a god damn geniusTumblr: imaginetonyandbuckycan I use this tag?it's based on a promptdid I mention that Tony care a lot?like a lot            

At this point Tony was considering not replacing the couch table in the living room at all. It would seriously throw the whole design concept of the room but so did a glass table splintered into a thousand pieces because a certain someone couldn't keep his super strength under control. He had already replaced the table three times, after the second time it had been broken he had ordered the splinter-proof glass because getting glass shards out of the thick carpet was a nightmare and took forever. Tony had people for that but it had been considerably easier to just throw the whole table out when the glass top was shattered but still in one piece thanks to the foil keeping it together. Tony had even called the company who made the tables and asked if they could use bullet proof glass instead. They couldn't.

Now he was standing in the living room looking at the mess that once again had been created. Clint had his feet up on said mess, not minding the cracked surface and was reading a comic about himself dressed completely in purple. Odd, Tony thought for a moment before shaking his head. His eyes focused on the fist sized junk that was missing from one side of the table, like someone had taken a huge bite out of it. Someone on the TV laughed loudly, Tony didn't think it was funny.

"They really got my love for coffee down." Clint mumbled from the couch. Tony rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh, turned on his heel and headed towards the suspects living quarters. There was only one person who could be responsible for breaking yet another table, along with the dozens of glasses and cups, several door frames and uncountable pieces of cutlery.

(mind the cut)

James Buchanan Barnes had been at the Avengers tower for 2 months and 23 days now and - as Tony found out three days into his stay - he had a tendency to break stuff. Tony hadn't been thrilled that the Winter Soldier was to stay in his tower, it had been one of the conditions of SHIELD - what was left of it anyway - for Barnes to regain some form of freedom. He wasn't allowed out of the tower either, at least not at this moment in time. No weapons, surveillance 24/7 those kind of things.

Tony had even been appointed his legal guardian, Steve being too emotionally invested in the case, and Tony being somewhat of second in charge of the Avengers. Steve had ruined three punching bags after that particular SHIELD meeting, but at least he got to take his friend home, whatever that meant.

Barnes was a quiet guy, skittish and broody. Always had that look on his face. There was the saying that someone looked like they had just seen a ghost, but Tony felt Barnes was the ghost in that situation, not wanting to be seen but spotted anyway and having no idea how to handle that. Clint liked him, probably the whole brainwashing thing. Steve was a mother hen and Tony felt sorry for Barnes when the Captain hovered around him and he looked around with pleading eyes for someone to get Steve away from him.

If one could trust the SHIELD reports Barnes had actually come a long way after the Washington incident. He was feeding himself, talked to people if prompted, could take care of his own hygiene, even attended social gathering like movie nights and meals sometimes. Even if he stood out like a sore thumb every time.

All in all Tony wasn't too bothered to have him around, if he let him take a look at his arm he might even start to like the guy, but the whole breaking stuff all the god damn time was getting a problem and Tony needed to address it.

Barnes' apartment was actually just a room. The other Avenger's had their own floors, even if they only used part of it, but Barnes had been put in a spare room that connected to Steve's apartment. Steve had insisted on sharing an apartment with him and Barnes had shrugged his shoulders. Tony had a wall torn down and a second door installed so now Barnes' could come and go as he pleased without having to go through Steve's whole floor.

It was that door that Tony now stood in front, Jarvis had told him Barnes' had been in here since he broke the table in the common area. He gave Barnes the courtesy of knocking and waiting a couple of seconds before opening the door, just in case the guy was naked and wanted to cover himself.

Barnes wasn't naked though, quite the opposite, he was dressed in his usual baggy hoddie and sweatpants. Clothes that did absolutely nothing to show off his figure. At least Steve had the decency to wear shirts one size too small, so Tony could look at the bulging barely contained muscles.

He was sitting on the bed and hadn't noticed Tony yet - didn't acknowledge Tony yet - because Tony was certain the guy with super hearing had noticed him the moment he stepped out of the elevator.

But Barnes had his eyes closed and was holding onto a pillow like his life depended on it, rhythmically squeezing one corner of it while rocking his whole body back and forth. He was also humming.

Tony was stunned for a moment.

"Are you alright?" He asked after another

Barnes jumped and scrambled back on the bed, looking at Tony with wide eyes, he obviously hadn't noticed Tony after all.

"I'm sorry about the table." He said, clutching the pillow to his chest. Tony feared it would soon suffer the same fate as the table the way the fabric strained and Barnes wasn't even using his metal hand. In fact his metal arm was almost hidden under the pillow. He looked so afraid, huddled at the far end of the bed and holding perfectly still, though, after Tony took a closer look he could see that Barnes was almost vibrating from how tense he held his body.  

Tony felt like he had just interrupted something important. He had seen similar behaviour before, people doing repetitive motions and zoning out from the world around them. It had been at a charity event for an organization helping disabled children. A girl at the venue had done almost the exact same thing, rocking her body back and forth, she had a toy that made jingly noises. Her mother explained to him that she was doing this to calm herself down when she was overstimulated. Tony later learned that the girl had autism.

That made him think. Tony was certain Barnes didn't go around breaking things on purpose, so far he had assumed the guy was just clumsy and couldn't gauge his strength properly, but if it was a stress response then there was no point in yelling at him. Barnes looked like a scared animal right now, cornered and fearing for his life judging by the way he looked at Tony, no, Barnes didn't even look at him, his eyes were focused somewhere to the right of Tony.

The whole speech Tony had prepared about being careful with other people's properties died in his throat.

"Don't worry about it." He said instead. "Just.. be careful. Don't hurt yourself."

Tony left Barnes' room feeling downcast. He hadn't realized that Barnes might not be doing as good as he thought. Steve had never said anything and he was the one who spent the most time with Barnes, yet Tony felt responsible. The guy was living in his tower after all, he was the legal guardian, albeit only on paper, Barnes was his responsibility.

The lab came alive when Tony stepped inside and he went to work immediately. There was a problem that needed a solution and he was the best person for the job. First he brought up surveillance footage of Barnes in all the situations he was breaking things. Tony tried to find a pattern, a trigger, a common denominator. Without any exception there were always one or more people with him when it happened, the situations differed but one thing stayed consistent in every incident. There was always a lot of noise and Barnes' always had that far-away look on his face the moment it happened and most of the time he needed a couple of tries before something broke in his hands, like he was squeezing the fork or cup several times and once it broke he looked surprised himself. He always left, fleeing the scene after that.

It was all Tony needed to know. It was a response to the stress in his environment, Barnes needed something to calm himself, something to hold onto.

He brought up articles about autism and anything related to it, he knew very little about the subject and that was a good place to start his research.  There was the possibility that Barnes was neurodivergent, the thought had crossed Tony's mind, and he had just not been diagnosed back in the 40s or now with all the therapists he had been seeing in this day and age. An anxiety disorder was also very likely and maybe had been overlooked by the doctors, who blamed Barnes' brainwashing for his behaviour. Tony had no authority on that but what he knew was that Barnes had suffered a hell of a lot of brain damage over the last 70 years and whether he was born with his brain wired differently or if HYDRA had fucked it up that didn't matter to Tony. The problem stayed the same: The guy needed a coping mechanism for sensory overloads that worked and didn't ruin Tony's fortune one couch table at the time.

"Stimming" was what everything pointed to. A repetitive body movement that self-stimulates one or more senses in a regulated manner, according to the definition on the Autism Wiki. It helped to counteract the stimulations from other sensations, loud noises, touches, negative feelings. In general stimming was a typical human behaviour, it was just more pronounced in people with autism or anxiety disorders. Even as Tony read the articles he noticed how he played around with the pencil and tapped it onto the desk rhythmically. Barnes had been doing nothing else before Tony had interrupted him.

Tony pulled up every site that sold stimming and stress relieving toys that he could find, then bought every toy that could be squeezed and didn't make a sound. He was surprised to find sites that had hand crafted toys made by autistic people for autistic people, he didn't buy those for himself, instead he put in a large order to be donated to organizations helping neurodivergent people. Tony didn't want to put carefully hand made toys through the series of tests and possibly destroy them in the process just to see if they could keep up with Barnes' super strength.

And so he got to work, new toys were delivered every day and Tony put them to the test. His lab was soon littered with colorful balls and the remains of their fallen comrades. Compression stress was the most important if Barnes' main stim was squeezing something but Tony tested tensile stress and shear stress just for good measure and one after another the toys exploded or ripped in the testing machines. After a week he was no further than before and he dug around in the piles of machines for his chemical analyzers while Dum-E discarded the last evidence of the destruction that had occurred in the lab.

If nothing commercially produced met his high standards then he would have to come up with something himself. Creating a polymer that was soft and squishy but at the same time able to withstand a lot of stress was no easy task, but then again, he had created a new element with a particle accelerator made from scraps, what was a macromolecule compared to that.

Tony needed a week.

It would have been faster but Doom had decided to throw a party in Central Park and the doombot guests had to be entertained for a couple of hours and the resulting clean up had taken twice as long.

Now Tony was sitting in his lab working on an armor piece, a couple of tables over there was an innocent looking red ball the size of an orange. He had instructed Jarvis to notify Barnes to come to the lab. The AI had told him he was on his way. That had been 20 minutes ago.

Tony was about to send out a search party in case Barnes got lost in the tower when the man finally appeared at the door, looking more than a little anxious and thoroughly disheveled.

"You wanted to see me? I didn't break anything." He said, not looking at Tony, his gaze was flickering across the lab. He held his body rigid, holding onto his left arm with his right hand. Even from across the lab Tony could see the strain with which he held his body.

"That's not want I wanted to speak to you about." Tony didn't put down his tools and instead casually continued his work.

"Is it about the arm?" Barnes asked and oh how Tony would love to get his hands on it, but so far this had been a no-go subject on Barnes' part.

"Only if you want me to." Tony said, glancing up with a smile, but Barnes wasn't looking at him.

"I don't."

"That's fine." Tony shrugged. "I actually need your help."

That got Barnes' attention and he turned to Tony, looking more than a little confused. "My help?"

"Yeah, see that ball over there?" Tony gestured to the table where the new toy was sitting. "I was working on a new material and I need see how it holds up under pressure, thought you could put your super strength to some use and test it a bit for me."

Barnes stepped closer, in that careful hesitant way of his, still tense like he was ready to bail at any moment.

"It's not gonna bite." Tony said and Barnes finally looked at him. A success in Tony's eyes even if it was just to give him his deadly death glare of death. Barnes was good at those. He picked up the ball though and that's what counted. Tony was almost vibrating in his seat with nervousness. Barnes was weighing the ball in his right hand but didn't really do anything else with it.

"How does it feel?" Tony asked, trying to sound nonchalant while he was almost exploding with excitement. His body betrayed him when his hand stabbed the screwdriver into the wiring and ruined two hours of fine tuning.

"It's...alright." Barnes didn't sound convinced.

"Try squeezing it."

"Why am I doing this? Why didn't you ask Steve?"

"Does Steve have a metal arm that can exert twice as much compression strength as a beefed up super soldier hand?" He asked pointedly. "Now squeeze it."

Barnes made a sour face then grumbled a "Fine." under his breath and started squeezing the toy.

The change wasn't instant, Tony noticed begrudgingly. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, that Barnes suddenly morphed into a carefree guy without a problem in the world because Tony gave him a ball to squeeze? But maybe there was a little bit less tension in the slope of Barnes' shoulders as he played around with the ball, first pressing dents into it with his fingers before giving it a more throughout squeeze.

Tony turned back to the armor piece he had been working on and left Barnes to play around with the new toy. He cursed when he saw what he had done to the wiring accidentally and started on repairing the damage. He soon got engulfed in his work and forgot Barnes was even in the lab with him until the other spoke again.

"Like this?"

Barnes was holding up the ball in his left hand, it didn't look much like a ball anymore. He had squished it so hard the red color had changed to light pink in some parts as the material bulged out between the metal fingers.

"Oh, yeah, just like that. Awesome, it works." Tony quickly said. He was impressed, he had designed the material to give more resistance the more force was exerted on it so it always had a nice grip to it, something firm to hold onto. Barnes must have squeezed really slowly to get it to that state.

"Good job." Tony gave him a thumbs up and turned back to his armor. The mission was a success in his eyes, Barnes had been introduce to his new stimming toy and it didn't break under the ultimate stress test. He mentally patted himself on the shoulder. He was a god damn genius.

He didn't feel like a god damn genius five minutes later when he noticed Barnes was still standing in the middle of the lab, the ball was on the table but he still had his fingertips on it, like he had just put it down but couldn't quite let go. He wondered how long the man had been standing there like that. There was a deep frown on Barnes' face, his gaze glued to the toy, confusion and longing both present. It occurred to Tony that he had never said Barnes could keep it. He was so used to other people just taking the stuff he made for them without a second thought that it had been natural for him to assume Barnes would just do the same.

Barnes wasn't like other people though, he had been kept imprisoned and used as a weapon for over 70 years, he had barely acted human when they had gotten to him after DC. According to SHIELD files he hadn't even eaten food placed in front of him in the very beginning.

"You can keep it." Tony said softly but Barnes jumped anyway, his body tensing up again. He looked up - the first eye contact with Tony even if it only lasted for a second before he looked at the toy again, then ever so slowly he wrapped his flesh hand around it and picked it up.

"Thanks." Barnes mumbled and Tony only had time to nod encouragingly before the other man was out of the lab and gone from view.

[barnowl98]

AYYYY I’m going to share my mental health story

I was watching a thing on youtube about someone who was sharing their story, and I decided I wanted to do that too. This may contain triggers, but if you do decide to read it, read it all the way through. 

You should know that I’ve only ever told a few people about this, I’ve never told any of my friends off the internet, or my parents, and it should be noted that I HAVE NOT TALKED TO NOR AM I A PROFESSIONAL. I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN PROFESSIONAL HELP AND IF YOU ARE CAN RELATE TO ANY OF THIS STUFF GET HELP, TRUST ME I WISH I HAD BUT THERE WERE OTHER CIRCUMSTANCES BEYOND MY CONTROL AND A LOT THAT I KNOW NOW THAT I DIDN’T KNOW THEN. SERIOUSLY, IT CAN’T HURT SO JUST DO IT.

But seriously, it’s taken me a long time to get to a point where I can share this, and even now it’s only on a somewhat anonymous post where no one I actually know will ever find it. 

Now that I’m done yelling at you, I can start. 

Sooo... the first thing that should be known is that one of my family members is borderline (actually maybe not even borderline, they may have crossed that line but I don’t know) abusive, not physically, but mentally. I’ve been told I’m worthless, ugly, useless, never going to be happy, my whole life. I’m overweight, and always have been. When I was 9 this person tried to convince me to basically not eat anything, and I almost bought their argument until they told me I would never be happy if I was fat. 

When I was little I would write short cute stories, and as far as I remember they weren’t bad, and when I let this person read them, they would always laugh. I thought they were laughing at the stories.       Turns out they were laughing at my spelling mistakes. I found out when I asked them to read my essay for school. They laughed at it. It wasn’t funny. I told them I wanted to be an author when I grew up. They told me I could never be an author because I was to fat. Thats when I stopped worrying about my weight. That statement, that I couldn’t write because I was fat, was just so BS that even I could tell it wasn’t true. 

But the thing is: if someone tells you these things, every few days, for years, you start to wonder if they’re right. Especially if this is an authority figure. I promised myself then that I was going to prove them wrong. I still am working on that promise. I write as much as I want, and I do what makes me happy, and the day after I can consider myself happy is the day I start a diet. Is it physically healthy? No. But as I’ve grown I realized that even before I knew what mental health was, I was putting it first. Its more important to be happy than it is to be happy. 

Anyway thats that part of the basic info. The other part is that in elementary school I had a best friend. We became friends in first grade, and by 4th we were nearly inseparable. Except that apparently she wanted nothing to do with me. I don’t know what happened. She won’t tell me. Did I say something or do something? I still don’t know. All I know is that one day we were fine and the next day on the playground she told me not to talk to her again. 

I don’t know, maybe its just my kind of personality, but that completely destroyed me. Like its one thing if you don’t like me because of something, but to go from being my best friend to nothing with no explanation... I still don’t know what I did, and that still bothers me. Now I’ve guessed that it was probably peer pressure since all the other girls in our class came to me 3 days later and told me they also wanted nothing to do with me. But I didn’t really care about them, they were only my friends because of her, but I do remember sitting on the playground when they told me all of they're little speech and I just remember crying and asking why. I said why so many times. They wouldn’t answer. After that I was left with one guy who also didn’t understand what was going on, and he pretty much saved my life the first time. He made it a goal to make sure I smiled every day. And I did because of him, but I also started into depression and social anxiety.

 About a month after the end of our friendship, this girl comes back and thinks we can go back to being best friends, and I was like Bitch excuse you? But also I couldn’t talk to her. I didn’t know it then, but now its completely obvious. I had anxiety attacks when I tried to talk to her. 2 times I actually blacked out. I don’t think i fainted, but I remember being terrified when one second I was trying to talk to her, and the next thing I know I’m in a completely different place, but I have no memory of what happened, just a sense that time had passed. Its fucking terrifying, especially if you don’t know what’s happening. 

But this girl, she doesn’t give up. We wrote notes back and forth for 2 years. She always insisted that she did want to be friends again and she was sorry for what happened. She never told me why though, and thats most of why it took 2 years. When I finally was able to talk to her again we became pretty close friends again. By then I had made friends with another girl, and the boy I had been friends with kind of headed towards hanging out with other guys. It was middle school, girls had cooties again. This other girl deserves a name because she literally saved me. But since I don’t have her permission, we’ll just call her Ash. Ash, “Her” and I were friends for a while, and it was great. That year I also got invited to a leadership conference in Washington DC for a week (which, side note, I think I had a nightmare that they were trying to sue me over the events that happened that I will now describe, so I’m going to be very careful about not mentioning the name. Don’t sue me, none of this is my fault.) So that spring I got on a plane with my aunt and went to WA DC. The conference thing was great. I got to see lots of places and we went all over and learned lots. The food was not great, so I didn’t really eat. I thought it was ok to skip eating so much since I was overweight. I WAS WRONG DO NOT EVER THINK THAT’S OK YOUR BODY THINKS ITS STARVING AND GOES INTO SURVIVAL MODE AND ACTUALLY WON’T LET YOU LOOSE ANY WEIGHT AND MAKES YOUR BRAIN NOT WORK RIGHT AND SUCH. This was just one of the factors. Another was my roommates. We were assigned rooms in groups of 4 with other kids from around the country. I should mention that this trip was kind of expensive, and I was lucky to raise the money to go, but almost everyone else there was rich. I got roomed with 2 rich... I’m just going to say it. Bitches. Fuck them. I’m getting ahead of myself. The other girl was like eh whatever I’m going to sleep. The 2 girls decided that instead of like just sleeping or whatever, it’d be fun to make my life living hell for the week. Now I’d been bullied at my school. I mean the best example is all the girls from the previous story shunning me. But the thing about my school is that they don’t do the bullying directly to the face. They might whisper behind your back, but they would never say it to your face. These girls were not that kind. They stole my stuff, they wouldn’t leave me alone, they kept watching tv so loud I couldn’t sleep till midnight or 1AM. Thats on top of jet lag. They bullied me into not asking for a room change. Finally on the Thursday of that week, I locked myself in the bathroom with my phone. I was crying and hyperventilating, I couldn’t move but I couldn’t stand to stay still. It was terrible. 

That was the point. We were in a room on the 8th floor. There was a window. I wanted to end it all. I didn’t want to go home. I just wanted to stop existing forever. 

But there was this tiny voice in my head begging me to try to get help. I had 2 friends, The girl and Ash, and Ash was kind of known for not being the most reliable person and little more happy go lucky, not really the kind of person that would help in this kind of a situation. This girl was reliable right? Seriously, what happened before was just so out of character for her, theres no way she would leave me literally on the edge. Right? 

I called her. She answered. I was mid anxiety attack and couldn’t really make words, i was just sort of crying into the phone. She didn’t even listen or ask me if I was ok. She yelled at me for calling her so late at night, and she hung up. I called again. I texted her. I told her I needed to talk to her, I told her what was happening. I told her I wanted to say goodbye. 

I decided to call Ash, just as a last resort. And I will tell you one thing about Ash. She has a slytherin exterior and persona, but on the inside she is a hufflepuff. She is the most loyal friend I’ve ever had, and she was ready to kill whoever hurt me. She let me talk to her mom, and she got grounded for a month for being on her phone at night, but she also didn’t care about those things. She cussed out the girls in my room for me. She stayed on the phone with me till morning to make sure I got the rest of the night to sleep. She made sure I was ok. 

And like I wasn’t. I’m still not that ok. I’m still crying even thinking about it. And the other girl? She still gives me anxiety attacks. I avoid her at all costs. Shes not a bad person, in fact I we have a lot of common interests. There was a reason we were such good friends. Now she works in my bank, and I have to go talk to her sometimes, and I always leave the bank on the verge of an anxiety attack. 

And Ash and I aren’t really friends anymore we kind of went into different branches in high school, but I will always be thankful for her. She always has a place in my heart. 

I want to say more about how all this has effected me but honestly I’m exhausted rn. What happened made me who I am, but I think I’d like to change that bit if I could. Its ok to have regrets. Its ok to have problems. Take care of them. Take care of yourself. You will be ok, even if it doesn’t seem like it now, and it will take time. You won’t be ok next week, or next month, or maybe even next year. Maybe not 10 years from now. But eventually one day you’ll think back and realized that hey, you’re ok. Its ok. And then you can let it go. And thats ok. Everythings ok in the end. I love you. Its late and night. I’m going to sleep now. Seriously, I love you, especially if you think no one else does. I would love to talk to anyone who I can, but tbh find a professional, I’m just a young adult who doesn’t know anything and I tend to mother hen ppl with problems and thats not good for my choice to put my happiness first, and also I don’t consistently get tumblr messages, but there are plenty of free emergency health lines, some even that you can text to, so google one up and get help. Seriously, its worth finding help. Your life is worth it. I promise. 

Sorry for spelling mistakes there are a lot of red squiggly lines but idc rn

[itsfallingforsnow-blog]

Hallu there! Talking about Japanese Language. As you all know, or just knew I’m into anime or anything related to Japan. I really really want to go there, since Digomon or Pokemon or Naruto!

—❀❀❀—

So, during my first semester, I wasn’t able to take Japanese Language Level one, due to huge number of demand and only a little number that are accepted. Bummer I didn’t get it. Second semester, I tried to categorize it as my first priority on module registration, BOOM! Finally I got it! I was so happy and so damn ready to learn Japanese Language, just because I want to watch anime without subtitle (you feel me hooman?), also probably go to Japan for my Discovery Year. Although I feel like ninety percent a no no chance to go there. Don’t give up! The class was fun, have the nicest sensei ever! As she pays attention to each one of her students, makes class more interesting with her activities.  At this point I’m able to introduce myself in Japanese language.

はじめまして。わたしはゆみです。わたしはハタチです。わたしはブルネイじんです。どぞよろしく。

Well kind of. To be honest I wasn’t doing well in level one, despite it’s level one. I had a hard time reading, slow af. Also writing, where I tend to forget です (desu) at the end of every sentence. From my previous post here, I focus too much on managing event and did not score for my test pretty much flip the table, from 100 to 0 real quick. Took Japanese language with my closest friend, got to say she’s really good and fast learner. But hey, got the support from her. Our joke are mostly ..

Sensei: Okay class practice with your friends or partner 

Me: Demo, watashi wa don’t have tomodachi desu 

and she’ll laugh afterwards, probably more joke I made that I don’t remember now. Fyi I’m the lamest yet you’ll laugh anyway HEHE. Also we joined Japanese Club where we made onigiri, does this Japanese traditional dance and anime related. Moving on to the part when there’s oral test. Where you are expected to speak in japanese fluently according to your level of course, on certain topics. Totally fucked that up. By fucked up, like really really fucked up. After oral, I got so stressed, I feel like boooooom headshot my dreams of Japanese Language or going to Japan cruch into pieces. No hopes for DY nor going there, or move to level 2. At that time, I was sitting on the floor with my friend, spoke fluent classic malay or kedayan. Laugh our ass off because whatever I was saying it was funny and sad also depressing.

So bad, so sick, so down, damn it hits me so hard. No motivation, all bad vibes, sad vibes, nightmare, so sad. Even at T-3 days before examination I can’t focus.

The result was, crei.

Second year and first semester, took level 2 for Japanese Language. Mainly I do have any other choice, I have to take 5 modules per semester, which I need one more. My boyfriend encouraged me to take another shot, he believed I could. So I did. Although I still have nightmares from my previous class. Still suck, still stuck. HEY! I had so much fun in class. With the same sensei. LUCKY! To learn Katakana, yikes so much similarities. By similarities how do you write and memorize クケシツソノンメスツフ。シツ is not a smiley face, nope nope!  However compared to last semester, this one is better. By better I mean, being the target in class was hahaha, I don’t know. Everytime sensei asked in Japanese language or asked students to talk in Japanese, I am ninety percent, most of the time got selected. #crei #why I don’t know why bruh, what did I do. Probably because my name is Yumie, easiest to remember? probably not. This semester we learned the word ユメ (Yume) close to my name ゆみ (Yumi – without e, or it will sound so weird like Yu-Mi-E) which, my classmate tend to miscalled my name as Yume instead of Yumie. IT DOES NOT SOUND THE SAME AT ALL. Do google that if you want to know the defination. And I did not sign up for that part alright. 

Unforgettable moment is that one of our project was to to create our own script – acting – speak in Japanese language, without looking at the script. Act in front of the class, with japanese student.  boy you don’t want to know what did I do. It was so embarrassing yet, I do have fun with my group, good thing my classmates laughed. Heres a clue, I have to dance to Pen Pineapple, Apple pen. It was fun, yet embarrassing, fun YET embarrassing. Also we celebrate teacher’s day, late teacher’s day. My classmates were amazing! I did enjoy all of the performances! Last battle was the examination, in which it was okay, I get to understand and read hiragana and katakana faster compared to last semester, however, I did not get to finished it on time. sigh. I tried my best. I know I do, and thank you to my boyfriend and my closest friend that support me. Also my mother who pretty much trying to speak in Japanese whenever she sees me. Ah, not to forget, still suck at Oral test, but other test was fine. The result? Satisfied!!

This is my note book, you know that typical anime character read a small book around, or before examination. It’s helpful, with the “feel” of anime character. Overall it was a fun experience, ups and downs.

Did you guys learn any other languages other than your native tongue language? I’m Bruneian, my language is Malay, and second language is English, third? Japanese! Well kind of. I want to learn Kedayan as well.

Do you guys have any other language you want to be fluent at?

Mine? yo Japanese straight!

Yumie

Japanese Language Hallu there! Talking about Japanese Language. As you all know, or just knew I'm into anime…