#and now i am having a breakdown because it was all a waste anyway and now i have contributed to fast fashion and air pollution | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

silvfyre-writings · 1 year ago

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You don't need to be strong right now (BSD Fanfic)

Hello~ It's certainly been a while since I've posted anything.

I've been a little busy you see, and life is just a little stressful so I haven't been writing as much, but rest assured, that things are calming down and I am working on my stories again! (Plz trust me when I say paperboy will get updated this month. I'm like, nearly halfway through the next chapter)

Today I bring you another Ranpo having a mental breakdown fic because apparently that's my new favorite trope to explore so I hope you enjoy!!!

They’d won.

So why did it feel like they hadn’t?

Why did it feel like there was still some kind of threat, lurking in the darkness and waiting to strike the moment they let their guard down?

And why was Ranpo the only one that seemed to notice it?

He didn’t understand where the feeling came from, yet no matter how much he tried to ignore and push past it, he just couldn’t. And really, he shouldn’t even be feeling this way, because they’d won in their fight against Fukuchi and his allies, and things were finally getting back to normal, and they had, for the most part, healed from their injuries, and—

—and everything was fine, really, so why was Ranpo still so on edge, a week after everything had gone down? Why did his heart continue to race like he was still in the race to outsmart Dostoyevsky? Why did his hand—the one that’d been run through by that sword—still continue to shake?

The answer was he didn’t know, and it wasn’t like he could bring up this uncertainty of his to anyone because everyone was dealing with their own problems following the whole Decay of Angels debacle, and besides… Ranpo was the strongest, he was the pillar, he was the one that everyone looked up to and relied on when things got hard, and he most certainly couldn’t be the one to fall apart. Not now, not ever.

“Ranpo-san.” Tanizaki’s voice interrupted his thoughts, and Ranpo allowed his eyes to flick open just long enough to see the case file in Tanizaki’s hands, stamped with the familiar logo of the police force. Ah, so they’re finally reaching out. It only took them a week to realize they need my skills. There was an awkward silence as Ranpo didn’t say anything, instead reaching out to grab at a lollipop he didn’t try to unwrap, and he heard Tanizaki make a sound. “Umm… the police are requesting your assistance, Ranpo-san.”

“So?” Ranpo scoffed, twirling the lollipop between his fingers. He felt no desire to take on the case; it was a simple one that Tanizaki could do himself, so there was no need for him to waste the time and energy in going all the way out to the crime scene anyway. He had far more important things to do like sit in his chair and do nothing. Because that’s what he was doing; nothing. He wasn’t falling apart. He was fine. “Do it yourself.”

Tanizaki glanced over his shoulder, and a sigh echoed from across the room—Kunikida’s desk to be exact—and Ranpo’s eyes opened once again to see the exasperated look on the other mans face. Kunikida’s eyes met his own, and he sighed again. “Ranpo-san… we’re all working right now on cases of our own. Hell, even Dazai is working for a change. The police asked for you specifically, so please—”

“Boring. Kunikida-kun’s become even more of a workaholic since Fukuzawa-san went off to Tokyo.” Ranpo whined and spun his chair around to avoid making eye contact with any of his coworkers. He stared down at the lollipop in his hand, ignoring the way his hand shook at Kunikida’s unimpressed tone before he unwrapped it and shoved it into his mouth. “I’m not doing it. Get Atsushi-kun or Kenji-kun to do it.”

“Ranpo-san—”

“It’s fine, Kunikida-san.” A chair scraped against the floor, the noise harsh on Ranpo’s ears, as Atsushi stood. “I just finished the job I was working on, so I can go out and help the police.” There was a pause, Atsushi obviously hesitating. “I—I know I’m not Ranpo-san, b-but—”

Kunikida’s voice softened, so different to when he’d been scolding Ranpo just a second ago. It made Ranpo’s gut churn. “But nothing, lad. You’re more than capable. Just do your best, alright?”

Ranpo didn’t hear Atsushi’s response, because he tuned out the conversation the moment it no longer involved him. He continued to remain where he was, facing away from everyone else, pretending that he couldn’t hear the whispers that broke out across the room. Really, his coworkers were fools if they thought he couldn’t hear them, but still, he didn’t turn around or tell them to shut up. They were just worried about him, and he couldn’t begrudge them that, as stupid as he thought it was.

He was the strongest, he was their pillar; they didn’t need to worry about him.

Because he was fine.

Unlike Dazai, who’d only just returned to work after being cleared by Yosano, albeit on desk duty until he grew more accustomed to the cane he now had to use because the escape from Mersault had shattered his leg.

Unlike Kunikida, who was even more stressed and exhausted because Fukuzawa was still too lost in his grief for his childhood friend, that he’d had to take over leading the Agency in his stead until further notice.

Unlike Atsushi, who’d gone through his own personal hell not knowing whether the Agency—the closest thing he had to a family—was going to be alright, and not knowing whether the fight against the Decay of Angels was going to end in their victory or not.

The point that Ranpo was trying to make, was that everyone’s worry was misplaced, because whilst everyone had been fighting and nearly dying, Ranpo had just been there on the sidelines, watching it all happen from the safety of Lucy Montgomery’s ability. And before her, it’d been one Edgar Allan Poe that he’d turned to, using his friend’s mansion as a safehouse to hide whilst the rest of the Agency had been fighting for their lives, unsure of whether he’d been alive or dead until he’d stepped in to rescue them.

He. Was. Fine.

And the sooner they realized it, the better.

“Ranpo-san, are you okay?” For the second time that day, someone approached him, and he turned his chair around just enough to see Kenji standing beside his desk, a frown on his face.

It was an expression that Kenji never should’ve had to wear, but here he was, frowning out of worry for Ranpo. Kenji too, had gone through it, fighting harder than he’d ever fought before against one of the Hunting Dogs, winning the fight, and then helping said Hunting Dog to find his missing friend just because he could, and said missing friend currently resting in the infirmary because after Fukuchi’s death, no one had known what to do with the Hunting Dogs, and by the time Ranpo had woken from his nearly two day long nap, the decision had already been made that the Agency would take responsibility for them.

A decision that he wasn’t happy about.

It made Ranpo feel uneasy, knowing that there was only a door separating him and his friends from the men that had hunted them down without mercy at the beginning of the whole debacle. And while Tecchou and his still unconscious friend—Jouno, Kenji had told him he was called—hadn’t caused any problems, Ranpo didn’t like that they were there in the first place. But apparently, he was the only one who was bothered by their presence; even Dazai, who was just as cautious as Ranpo was, wasn’t bothered by them being there.

So Ranpo pushed aside his misgivings and just pretended that Tecchou and his friend didn’t exist. Which was easier said than done when the man made his appearance several times a day to ask Yosano—or whoever was available if she happened to be out—to check on Jouno’s slowly healing injuries. He’d asked Yosano once why she hadn’t just healed them and sent them on their way, and she’d explained that because of their enhancements, she didn’t want to risk doing more harm than good until they could get in contact with the doctors that had done said enhancements.

It made sense, but Ranpo’s stomach had rolled at she said it. The Agency was too caring at times, focused on helping others when they should be helping themselves instead, and it seemed that once again, Ranpo was the only one to think that; no one had complained when Yosano had made the decision, and the younger members had all been more than happy to help. And Ranpo had just laid there, in a bed on the opposite side of the infirmary—Fukuchi had given him a concussion so bad he couldn’t even sit up without falling over—pretending to sleep when in reality, he was watching for the first sign of danger.

Danger that never came, but it didn’t hurt to be on the lookout.

“Ranpo-san?” Kenji’s voice took on a frightened tone, and he realized that he’d never answered the boy’s question.

A wide smile grew on his face as he spun his chair back around to face the room, kicking his feet up onto the desk, and throwing his arms behind his head, the position he always assumed when everything was fine and dandy, when he could afford to be light-hearted and joking. Internally though, he felt nauseous, and it felt like there was someone behind him, breathing on his neck even though all that was there, was the back of his chair. Something was wrong that he couldn’t yet pinpoint. But he would, because he was the best and he was fine. “Everything’s fine, Kenji-kun! But shouldn’t you be getting lunch for your friends in the infirmary right about now?”

He didn’t like the Hunting Dogs, but Kenji did.

“Oh yes, of course! In fact, I was just about to go and get lunch for everyone.” Kenji’s smile matched the size of his own, the boy’s worry disappearing all because Ranpo was smiling, and if Ranpo was smiling, he must be fine.

Which he was, fine that is.

“You just didn’t answer when I asked, that’s all.” Kenji continued to say.

“Eh, I have snacks, I don’t need lunch.” Ranpo shrugged, making a point to open a packet of chips and shove a handful into his mouth, just barely remembering to pull the lollipop out of his mouth in time. The chips were tasteless as he chewed them, it truly felt like he was trying to chew on wood. But he forced himself to eat them, because if he was eating there was nothing to worry about, and waved Kenji away with a hand. “Off you go, there’s a lot of hungry people in the room right now. Better feed them before they starve.”

Kenji continued to look at him, smile fading and that worried look returning to his eyes. The boy glanced over his shoulder, but Ranpo couldn’t think much on it, because the door the infirmary opened and he couldn’t help but tense and watch as Tecchou crept out of the room, eyes falling towards Ranpo for just a second before he avoided making eye contact, and instead approached Kenji.

At least the man could tell Ranpo didn’t like him being there.

“Might I join you?” Tecchou asked. “Jouno is hungry, even though he says he’s not.”

“Of course! A good meal will help Jouno-san recover faster! That’s what my family back home would always say at least!” Kenji beamed up at the Hunting Dog, and took Tecchou’s hand before dragging him from the room, chatter that Ranpo didn’t bother trying to listen to falling from Kenji’s mouth.

But while he didn’t listen, he did watch, because he was always watching.

He needed to make sure that Kenji came back after all.

“You aren’t eating.” Ranpo sighed as Yosano dragged a chair over and sat next to him, joining him as he watched over the rest of the office as they took one giant lunch break together, something that’d been Kyouka’s idea to help everyone after all that they’d been through together. It was a way for them all to feel reassured that everyone was fine—or close to fine—without feeling pushy and overbearing. And so far, Ranpo had gotten out of it each and every time by using his snacks as an excuse. He was still in the room, so it wasn’t like he wasn’t participating, he just wasn’t as hungry as the rest of them to eat a proper meal.

So it wasn’t surprising that Yosano approached him; after a decade of knowing each other, she was more than capable of picking up when something was wrong, even if Ranpo himself wasn’t aware of it yet. He did think it unnecessary that she would come and talk to him when he could name at least three other people that she should be checking in on instead, yet when he looked over to tell her as such, the words died before they even formed. A huff escaped him as he shoved another mouthful of chips into his mouth. “I am eating.”

“Snacks don’t count, Ranpo.” Yosano sighed, turning in her seat so that she could rest one arm on his desk and rest her head against her hand. “I wasn’t going to harass you because we’re all recovering still from everything that happened, but everyone’s starting to get concerned.”

Ranpo scoffed. “They should worry about themselves instead. I’m fine.”

“Then you won’t mind me asking how much sleep you’ve gotten in the past week, will you?”

The glare he gave his friend was one that would’ve had most people flinch away and avoid him, but all Yosano did was raise her brows, and lean a little heavier against the desk. Well if she wanted to play it that way… Ranpo pushed away from his desk and stood. Without saying anything he walked over to where Kunikida was eating his lunch and talking quietly with Dazai. He almost stopped then, because Dazai was just as nosy as Yosano was, and would know that what Ranpo was about to do was simply him trying to avoid being questioned.

Deal with Dazai’s theories, or Yosano’s harassment? Ranpo asked himself, slowing in his walk only a little before he came to a conclusion and continued forward. “Kunikida-kun! Got any cases for me?”

“What? Ranpo-san, you didn’t want to take the case earlier—”

“Oh, look! This one sounds interesting!” Ranpo swiped a random case off the desk, a murder if the brief look was anything to go by, and headed towards the door, waving the file at his coworkers who really needed to stop staring at him mid-chew. It was both gross and made him very uncomfortable, because really? Was it really that surprising for him to change his mind and take a case? He did actually do work from time to time. “Bye bye! Don’t touch my snacks while I’m gone!”

“Ranpo-san, wait! You need an escort—” Kunikida began to say before he frantically packed away his lunch and rushed to his feet, tripping a little as he hurried over. “—I’ll come with you!”

Ranpo glowered, but allowed Kunikida to fall into step beside him. He would rather have gone alone to the crime scene—it had happened within walking distance of the Agency so he would’ve been fine after a few wrong turns—but he knew that if he pushed for that, more questions would rise, and he’d taken on this case to avoid more questions. Mostly from his very nosy doctor friend, but she had said that everyone was starting to worry about him, so really, he wasn’t safe from questions no matter who he was with.

He still didn’t get why they were all so worried about him, because there was nothing to worry about. So what if he wasn’t eating or sleeping properly? No one else was either. If he had a dollar for the amount of times he’d heard his coworkers cry out during the night at the dorms from nightmares or flashbacks, he’d be as rich as Poe was, and that was saying something. And no, he wasn’t one of the ones crying out because he was fine. The worst thing he had to remember, was being shot at by the police, and knocked out by Fukuchi. And maybe just a little bit of stress from rescuing everyone. Meanwhile Yosano had almost been executed, Kunikida and Tanizaki technically had been killed; Dazai had almost died in his plan to stop Dostoyevsky, and Atsushi hadn’t stopped fighting once since the whole thing started. It made sense for them to be struggling.

And Ranpo was infallible, struggling wasn’t an option.

They were only a couple of blocks away from the crime scene, when Kunikida reached out and grabbed the sleeve of his shirt, bringing the two of them to a halt. Ranpo turned and faced the man, taking note of the wary expression that he always wore when he had to talk to someone about something difficult. Usually that look was reserved for Dazai or Atsushi, so Ranpo immediately grew cautious at seeing that look turned on him of all people. Kunikida took a breath. “Ranpo-san, are you okay?”

“Everyone keeps asking me that. It’s a stupid question.” Ranpo said.

“It’s not stupid for wanting to check in on you.” Kunikida said gently, dropping his grip to push up his glasses. “Since the President’s been gone, I’ve been trying to see how everyone is coping with what happened. You are the only one I haven’t been able to speak with yet.”

“Yeah, because I’m fine, obviously. Great detective’s don’t need talking to. Save your worry for those that need it, Kunikida-kun or you’ll get even more stress wrinkles.”

“With all due respect, Ranpo-san, I don’t believe you.” Kunikida’s words had Ranpo stiffening. He stared at Kunikida without saying anything, because what was he supposed to say to that? Kunikida may have been the one that was in charge, but he was still four years Ranpo’s junior, with his own problems, and Ranpo wasn’t going to add another—even though there wasn’t another—problem to his plate.

Ranpo turned on his heel and walked off. “Believe what you want then, Kunikida-kun, but like I said, you should be focusing on everyone else instead.”

Kunikida hurried after him. “Ranpo-san, you were under a considerable amount of stress after we were accused of being terrorists. You fell through a window, and worked yourself to the bone trying to rescue us when we failed to escape the Hunting Dogs—”

“How do you know that?” Before Ranpo even realized what he was doing, he spun around and interrupted Kunikida, heart pounding for a reason he couldn’t identify. That was a lie because he could—it was fear—but he couldn’t identify why he was suddenly afraid. That too, was a lie, because Ranpo’s mind never stopped deducing, so he could figure out that the reason why he was scared and on edge, was because Kunikida knew about his moment of weakness, and if he knew, then everyone else knew, and—

“Poe-san mentioned it to us after he wrote in the Page.” Kunikida said slowly, interrupting Ranpo’s thoughts, speaking to Ranpo as if he was some frightened child and not the world’s greatest detective. “It was when you were unconscious; he asked us to keep an eye on you because you hadn’t slept or eaten while the two of you were together, and that he was worried.”

“Poe-kun worries too much.” Ranpo’s voice was bitter as he stormed off, but deep down he felt warm inside to know that Poe still cared about him and his wellbeing, despite the harsh way that he’d treated the other man during the entire incident. A little bit of guilt wormed it’s way into his heart; it wasn’t like he’d meant to treat his rival badly; it was just that… in the heat of the moment, Ranpo was far more focused on results than feelings and when he got like that, he lashed out regardless of who it was in the way. I’ll talk to him soon.

Kunikida’s footsteps echoed just behind him. “I think Poe-san is right to be worried. You’re shutting us out, Ranpo-san—”

“Just drop it.” Ranpo looked over his shoulder and glared. “There is nothing to worry about because I am fine. So either forget it and come with me, or go back to the Agency.”

Kunikida was silent for a moment before he sighed. “Alright…”

The rest of the walk was made in silence, although Ranpo could tell that Kunikida wanted to press the issue, and from the way he could hear the younger texting behind him, he wasn’t the only one that did. It annoyed him a little to know that his co-workers were plotting behind his back instead of just talking to him directly, but then again, it wasn’t like he was talking to them when they tried to in the first place. He kicked a stone and watched as it rolled away, and found himself thinking that maybe if he’d been born a stone instead of a genius, that life would be a little easier.

“Ah, Ranpo-san! What are you doing here? We didn’t ask for you.” An officer greeted upon Ranpo’s approach, sharing a confused look with his colleagues. Which was fair, because Ranpo hadn’t been asked to help with this case, and honestly, he still didn’t quite know why he’d even decided to take it. The case was a simple mugging, and the culprit’s prints were all over the scene so it wasn’t like it would take the police long to find them.

Yet here he was.

Ranpo threw a smile onto his face and shrugged. “Who cares, I’m here now. So why not save yourselves some time and let me solve this easy case?”

“Easy?” One of the officers scoffed. “Just because you have an ability that makes things easy for you, doesn’t mean we have that same luxury.”

Why is it always the young ones that are so stupid. This case is easy if you just open your eyes. Ranpo rolled his eyes and strode over to look down at the corpse; a young man, with plenty of defensive wounds, and a fatal stab wound to the neck, the knife still embedded. “Even without my ability, this case is easy. It was a crime of opportunity. He was on a date with a woman, and she stabbed him to take his money. If you track his credit card, you’ll find her, since she’s no doubt spending as much as she can before she’s caught.”

The first officer sighed, and said something into the radio on his chest before turning his attention back to Ranpo. “I have no doubt that this is a stupid question, but how do you know—”

“That it’s a woman?” Ranpo interrupted, and without waiting for a response, powered on. “The defensive wounds on his arms are scratches from someone with very long nails. Now some men do have longer nails, but given the angle of the stab wound, which shows the attacker was at least a head shorter than the victim, it’s more likely that the attacker is a woman.”

“I see… thank you for the, well, unexpected assist, Ranpo-san.” The officer said. “We didn’t ask for your assistance, so we can’t pay you, I hope you understand.”

Ranpo waved away the officer’s words. “Whatever, just give us more challenging cases next time. Even Atsushi could’ve solved this.”

He turned around, ready to leave, when he heard the younger officer speak, no doubt not meaning for Ranpo to hear him, but of course, Ranpo heard every word. “Why does he always make it sound so easy? This case… the terrorism incident...”

What? Easy? Ranpo took a shaky breath, remembering all the sleepless nights he’d pulled just to gather all that evidence that the police hadn’t even looked at until he’d done that interview. Then he remembered the amount of stress he’d been under when he’d had to stop finding evidence and hijack an entire assassination plot in just a couple of days—again, with more sleepless nights, but that time he’d been joined by Poe who’d been a massive help. And not to mention, the entire airport where he’d had to plan on his feet, using his genius in ways he never had before, and still almost losing. Like hell had that been easy, it’d been one of the hardest times of Ranpo’s life, and here was this young officer trying to say that it was easy? No way.

“Easy?” Ranpo said under his breath, turning towards the officer that he’d overheard. He was given a confused look that made Ranpo’s already unstable emotions rise even more, and he walked over and grabbed the officer’s collar. “You think that case was easy?”

He could hear Kunikida saying something, could hear the other officers raising their voices, but there was blood roaring so loud in his ears, that Ranpo could only hear himself.

“Do you think it was easy to have to hide from the police and solve an entire terrorism plot? Do you think it was easy, to know that your friends would’ve died if you had been just a second too slow? And do you think it was easy, to trust the one person you thought you could trust, only to discover they were the reason you were being accused of terrorism in the first place? Do you think that’s easy? Do you?” Ranpo knew he was shouting, could feel his hand shaking, and could see the fear in the young officer’s face as he was screamed at. But Ranpo had to make sure that they understood it hadn’t been easy, that even a week after it all, despite things being considered normal because they were taking cases and working again, they weren’t.

Things weren’t normal, yet Ranpo was the only one who seemed to care about it.

A hand gently wrapped around his wrist, and pulled his hand away from the officer’s collar. Ranpo followed the hand to stare up into Kunikida’s eyes. “Ranpo-san, that’s enough.”

Ranpo took a breath before he nodded, not listening as Kunikida spoke, no doubt apologizing for him, before he felt himself being dragged back the way they’d come. Neither of them said anything, not that there was anything for them to say, really. All Ranpo knew was that he’d fucked up, allowed his emotions to get the better of him when he should’ve kept calm. Of course the police thought his job was easy, they all thought he had an ability to solve crimes in an instant, and while, yes, that was what he did, it wasn’t an ability that did it. It was just him.

It was always just him now that he thought about it. Every time the Agency ran into a case they couldn’t figure out fast, they always turned to him for the answers. And sure, sometimes it was necessary, especially when there was a time limit, but there were plenty of times where Dazai would’ve been enough, or Kunikida, or literally anyone else but Ranpo. He knew it was because he was the oldest, the most experienced—the pillar, the one everyone relied on—but he really wished that the others would at least try.

He was getting tired.

Tired of being the pillar.

“Ranpo-san—”

“No.” Ranpo said, pushing past Kunikida as the man tried to block him from entering the main office, and making his way to his desk. He didn’t get very far before the other grabbed his wrist and stopped him, levelling Ranpo with a look that spoke of an incoming lecture, a lecture that he very much did not want to hear, not now, not when he was still wound up. Yet Kunikida wouldn’t let go when he tried to pull his arm free, and he could see the rest of the Agency at their desks, watching, waiting, just like they’d probably been planning. Behind his back like he’d noticed them doing.

Suddenly Ranpo felt like a cornered animal, baring its teeth at its hunters. He wanted to leave, and leave now.

“Listen to me, Ranpo-san!” Kunikida said, loud, but not shouting, because he’d been with the Agency long enough to know that yelling at Ranpo did nothing but make Ranpo avoid work even more. “I know you don’t want to talk about it, because you aren’t the type to talk about your feelings, but you need to. This can’t go on!”

“I’m fine, Kunikida!” Ranpo snapped, finally tugging his arm free.

“No, you’re not.” Yosano piped up from where she was leaning against one of the desks. “You haven’t been fine in ages, but instead of asking for help like everyone else did when they struggled, you shut us out and let it fester.”

“I. Am. Fine.” He wrapped his arms around himself, lowering his head to glare at the floor. He repeated the words, over and over, until they no longer felt like words. But just like how everyone in the room clearly didn’t believe in them, neither did he.

He wasn’t fine.

A hand was placed on his shoulder, and he jerked away, lifting his head to see Yosano had come closer, no doubt trying to comfort him as she usually did when he was upset by something. But this time the touch burned, and it continued to burn as he stepped back, trying to get some space in a room that was filled with the desire to crack him open and see his innermost thoughts. It felt like he was suffocating.

Yosano sighed, but didn’t try to get closer. “Talk to us, Ranpo. Tell us what’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong?” A laugh bubbled out of him, uncontrolled. He wanted to shove it back where it came from, but another escaped instead. “What’s wrong isn’t me, it’s all of you.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s because of all of you that nothing is right again!” It wasn’t true, because it was the fault of Fukuchi and the Page, but logic had abandoned Ranpo completely the moment his emotions had decided to take charge. “If you’d just listened to me in the beginning, we never would’ve been accused of terrorism, we never would’ve gone through what we did, and we would’ve been fine. But you were all too stupid to listen to me, so I had to step up, like always to save us—”

His eyes were starting to burn, tears forming and threatening to fall, but he kept going, the words spilling out like a broken dam. Everything he’d been thinking about since they’d returned to work, escaping from his mouth like water from a broken tap. Hah, get it? Because he was nothing more than a broken tap right now. “—because all of you are so damn incompetent that you can’t see a trap right underneath your noses—”

“Hey, that’s not—”

“—it’s the truth!” Ranpo shouted, glaring over at Tanizaki as the boy tried to interrupt him. “I’m the reason this entire place exists in the first place! I’m the genius detective that can solve cases in less than a minute, surrounded by people who’d rather come to him for all the answers instead of pulling their brains out of their asses and using them! And I’m tired of it! I’m tired of being the pillar of this place, tired of being the one you all rely on when things go south! Because it’s everything! Atsushi, the Guild, Dostoyevsky, and now Fukuchi, all of them were solved by me! Sure, you all did the fighting, but it was my plan that saved us! Mine! And I don’t want to do it anymore!”

“What do you—”

“Don’t, Kunikida-san.” Someone said, and Ranpo heard footsteps approach as he stood there, tears running down his face, body trembling. Gentle hands grabbed at his own, and Ranpo opened his eyes to see Atsushi watching him with an equally gentle look. The boy’s own hands squeezed Ranpo’s own, and his thumbs rubbed the back of them in a soothing manner. The motion helped to calm Ranpo a little, but not by much; he was still trembling. “We hear you, Ranpo-san, we do. Can you take a breath for me? Please?”

Ranpo nodded, and took a single shaky breath, only to let out a sob at the end. And then another, and another, as he broke completely. He felt himself going down as his knees gave out, but slowly, as Atsushi went down with him, and the boy didn’t even hesitate to draw his senior into his arms and hold him close. It took Ranpo a moment, but once he realized that Atsushi wasn’t going to press him and just hold him, he allowed himself to fall apart, burying his face against Atsushi’s shoulder as he cried. He could feel a hand cupping the back of his head, and another rubbing at his back, but ultimately, what he focused on the most was Atsushi’s words in his ear.

“We hear you, Ranpo-san.”

It was about damn time they did.

When Ranpo woke, he found himself in a familiar room in a familiar bed, with a warm weight against his back and another against his stomach, accompanied by the sound of fingers flying across a keyboard and no recollection of how he got there. But it didn’t take long for him to figure it out. Oh… that’s what happened. He pulled a hand from underneath the covers and stroked the fur of the raccoon curled up against him. Karl made a quiet noise of surprise before stretching out and going back to sleep. And for just a moment, the sound of typing disappeared, yet nothing was said and the sound soon returned.

Ranpo stayed silent for another twenty minutes, just running his fingers through the soft fur beneath his hand, and listening to Poe as he wrote on his laptop beside him, the sound of the keys helping to him awake and present. Finally, he sighed, and broke the quiet. “They called you?”

Silence fell upon the room again. “They did.” It was hard to tell just what Poe was thinking from those two words, but Ranpo took a chance on his rival not being angry at him. He hadn’t seen Poe since they’d worked together to rescue the Agency after all, and well… Ranpo didn’t usually regret many things, but what he said to Poe that day, that was something he regretted.

He wouldn’t have been upset if Poe had been mad at him.

“Did they tell you what happened?”

Ranpo listened as Poe sighed, and rolled over as Poe laid down so they were face to face with each other. There was nothing but concern and worry on the author’s face, along with hesitation as he clearly wanted to hold Ranpo close, but was holding himself back from doing so. It hurt, because Poe had never held himself back around Ranpo, but Ranpo also appreciated it. He wasn’t too sure if he’d be able to handle being hugged right now. “Yosano-sensei called me, said it was an emergency, so I went down. You were unconscious, and they told me you had a breakdown.” Poe hesitated before he gained a determined look and continued. “And they said that until further notice, you weren’t allowed back at work. I brought you here afterwards.”

“To your bed? That’s moving a little fast isn’t it?” Ranpo couldn’t help but make the joke, as inappropriate as it was. But then again, it was Poe who was probably the one person that wouldn’t judge him for using humour in a situation that was very much not funny. They were both broken people after all.

And sure enough, although he didn’t laugh, Poe’s mouth twitched upwards. “I was going to put you on the couch, but I thought that might be a little unkind of me so I chose the bed. But I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to make a move on you though if you happened to wake up during the night, so I slept on the couch.”

Ranpo hummed. “It’s your bed, I don’t mind if you sleep in it.” He sighed and shuffled a little closer until his head was resting against Poe’s chest. Without a word, an arm—just one arm—was draped over his side and he was pulled a little closer. “How long did I sleep?”

“Just over a day. I was about to order food actually if you felt up to eating something.”

“Not hungry.” Food was the last thing on Ranpo’s mind, but he blamed that on the fact that he was still coming out of a post-breakdown nap. He wanted to call it something else, but he couldn’t since a breakdown was what it had been, and while he should feel embarrassed about breaking down into his tears and screaming at his co-workers—because, yes, he did remember everything he said, it was a skill and a fault of his—he didn’t. He didn’t feel anything other than a very strong desire to go back to sleep.

Poe hummed and sat up to grab his phone. “I’ll order something simple that we can reheat tomorrow then. Yosano-sensei mentioned you hadn’t been eating properly, so apparently I’m supposed to make sure you eat at least one meal a day.”

“What part of not hungry, did you not understand?”

“Oh, I understood it perfectly, Ranpo-kun, but I’m simply not taking no for an answer.” Poe said as he tapped away, a quiet ding indicating that food that Ranpo very much did not feel like eating, was on the way. “It’ll be an hour, so you can go back to sleep if you’d like.”

Ranpo didn’t say anything, he simply rolled over and curled up around Karl again before closing his eyes and allowing sleep to come for him. At least if he was sleeping, he didn’t have to deal with Poe’s somewhat overbearing nature; it made sense why the author had been called to take care of him then, because Poe had once spent six years obsessing over the perfect novel for him, and even after failing, still kept trying.

And while the rest of the Agency would simply give in to Ranpo’s whims the moment he shut them out, Poe would not, because he was just as stubborn as Ranpo was, if not more.

For the next three days, Ranpo spent his time migrating from Poe’s bed to Poe’s couch, with the occasional detour to the kitchen or the bathroom, but mostly, he moved between the two pieces of furniture. If he’d had it his way, he would’ve just stayed in the bed the entire time and slept, but apparently Poe had decided to take his role as caregiver seriously, and refused to let Ranpo mope about for too long. Which of course, gave way to arguments as Ranpo’s already frayed buttons were pushed even more, and really, he had to give credit to Poe not just giving up and throwing him back to the Yosano and everyone else at the Agency, because some of the things he said to his rival… well they weren’t very kind.

Usually they were just light-hearted jabs, the kind that he and Poe usually exchanged in a joking manner with each other because they never meant them, but this time Ranpo spat insults and words of cruelty, and despite them, Poe continued to just smile and let Ranpo curse him out. But the third day—the current day—had been the worst, because Ranpo hadn’t slept well at all, tossing, and turning most of the night, so when Poe had dragged him out of bed and forced him into the bathroom to have a shower, Ranpo hadn’t hesitated to lash out and call Poe pathetic and desperate for trying to help a man that could never give him what he was after. He also said a lot worse than just that.

And it was the first time that Poe had actually looked hurt by his words, and Ranpo had felt an immense amount of guilt afterwards.

“I’m sorry.” Ranpo said as sat on the floor of the shower, scrubbing three days of grime out of his hair.. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.”

“You did.” Poe responded from where he sat on the floor, leaning against the wall as he kept Ranpo company, fingers tapping on his knees. “Usually you are kind, but you haven’t been kind in a while, Ranpo-kun, and that’s okay. I know you are hurting—”

“No, it’s not.” Ranpo interrupted. “You always drop everything the moment I ask, and yet, I can’t even take the time to treat you kindly.” His eyes burned, but not from the shampoo, and he curled up underneath the spray of the water. “The one person who I would consider an equal to me, and I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you and how much you helped me.”

Poe hummed. “You don’t need to. I’m your rival, remember? So I know you care, and that you regret what you said, even without you telling me..”

“I’m still sorry.” Ranpo sobbed. “You deserve so much better than me.”

There was another hum, and through his tears, Ranpo felt arms wrap around him, felt himself drawn into an embrace, warm lips against his brow. “Maybe I do, Ranpo-kun, but it is you that I have fallen for, so I will take your cruelty along with your kindness, and if you are ever ready, I will take your love as well.”

“Here. Since food’s not really agreeing with you right now, I thought this might go down better.” Ranpo looked up, pulled out of the memory by Poe’s looming figure that was holding out some kind of drink to him. He looked at it sceptically. Poe chuckled. “It’s a smoothie. Strawberry and banana which I was told you do like, so if it’s bad, blame Yosano-sensei, not me.”

Ranpo took the drink and took a cautious sip, and waited until he was sure it would be okay, before he sipped on it some more. The last thing he wanted was to throw up again because his stomach didn’t agree with what it was being given. “You spoke to Yosano?”

“Kunikida-san, actually. Yosano just happened to be nearby when I asked what was best to give you when you were unwell. The Agency sends their well wishes as well, said they hoped you would feel better soon and that they were missing you.” Poe said, sitting down beside Ranpo’s feet, looking a little out of place without his laptop or a book, hands fidgeting with his pants, and then each other. “Do you want to talk…?”

“No.” Ranpo shoved his feet underneath Poe’s thigh, and scowled into his drink. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Poe hummed and patted Ranpo’s leg a couple of times; a reassurance. “That’s fine. Just know you can talk to me when you are ready to. If you want to, of course.”

And that was what Ranpo appreciated about Poe the most; he knew when and when not to push.

Over the next week, things got a little easier for Ranpo. Apparently being away from work was just what he’d needed, because since he’d been away—aside from those first rocky days—he’d slept and eaten better than he had in a while. He did miss solving cases though, and one day, when Poe had been out, he’d tried to call the Agency, if only to see if they had any cases they needed his help on, because surely, he could help with just one? But no, his call had been answered by Atsushi, who’d been more than happy to hear from him, but had refused to give in to his demands for something to do. Instead, the boy had told him to watch this show that he’d been introduced to before hanging up.

Rude.

But was he watching the show? Yes. And was he enjoying said show? Also, yes.

Most of the time, he was left to his own devices, left to stretch out on the couch with Karl in his lap, and enough blankets to build a small mountain. Sometimes he was joined by Poe, who would either sit behind him and allow himself to be used by a pillow, or he’d sit at the other end of the couch and stretch out as well, laptop resting against his knees as he worked on his newest story. They didn’t really speak to each other much, other than how are you’s and what are you doing’s. Not that Ranpo minded, because Poe’s presence was more than enough, and he appreciated the space that the other was giving him.

There was no pressure at all, on this couch in Poe’s house, and that was just what Ranpo needed.

He’d had more than enough pressure to last the rest of his life.

Once another week had passed—marking two entire weeks he’d been off of work now—Ranpo had focused on preparing himself for a visit, because the Agency couldn’t force him off of work forever, and he knew that the only way he’d be going back to work, was once he actually opened up and talked about what had happened. Which Ranpo wasn’t exactly keen on. But… maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to do. To talk, he meant.

So, when the doorbell rang, Ranpo wasn’t surprised, and sat up from where he’d been laying curled underneath the blankets, wearing one of Poe’s oversized hoodies whilst watching a movie. He listened as Poe answered the door and greeted the person, and prepared himself to be met with Kunikida or Yosano, maybe even Dazai—although he was pretty sure that Dazai would rather die than have a heart to heart with Ranpo of all people.

But then Fukuzawa appeared in the doorway and Ranpo froze.

Really, he shouldn’t have been surprised, because Fukuzawa cared about everyone in the Agency, and while he hadn’t witnessed Ranpo’s breakdown, he no doubt would’ve been told about it upon his return from Tokyo. Or maybe he’d even been told the day after and cut his trip there short, since when Fukuzawa had left, he’d told them all he didn’t know how long he would be gone for. Regardless, Fukuzawa was standing in front of him, watching him with that look that told Ranpo he was analysing the situation and trying to figure out the best approach.

It made Ranpo nervous.

“May I sit?” Fukuzawa asked, gesturing towards the couch.

Ranpo nodded, swallowing as his words got stuck in his throat, and tucked himself into a ball so that Fukuzawa had room to sit down on the couch with him.

Fukuzawa sat, and turned so that he was facing Ranpo. His arms were hidden in his sleeves like they usually were, and his usually stoic face looked almost… soft. It was a look that Ranpo hadn’t seen since the Agency grew so large, and it made Ranpo want to spill everything, just like he used to do when he was fourteen and lost in a world he didn’t understand. Fukuzawa remained silent for a moment longer before he spoke. “How are you?”

“Better.” Ranpo rested his head on his knees. “I’ve done nothing but eat and sleep since I’ve been here.” He paused for a moment and admitted quietly. “Poe-kun’s been good to me.”

“That’s good.” Fukuzawa gave a small smile that faded just as fast as it appeared. “What happened?”

Ranpo frowned. “You weren’t told?”

“Kunikida contacted me and said that you’d become unwell suddenly, and that you were taking a leave of absence to recover. It wasn’t until I received a message from Poe-san yesterday that I realised I was missing something. So I politely cut my trip short and came here to see how you were doing and find out what had happened.”

“What did Poe-kun tell you?” Ranpo asked, hesitating because while he could deduce most things, deducing his rival’s texts was an impossible feat; he was just unpredictable in that sense. So he was a little worried as to what the author had told Fukuzawa.

Fukuzawa pulled out his own phone, no doubt finding the messages to recall them. “He said he was sorry to disturb my work, but that he wanted to give me an update on your condition. He mentioned that you’d finally eaten a proper meal, which was when I realized that something was off.”

“Just because he mentioned food?”

Ranpo found himself being thrown a look of disbelief. “Ranpo, I’ve known you for almost thirteen years now. When you stop eating, I know it’s something serious.” Fukuzawa paused and closed his eyes for a moment, taking a breath before he opened them again. “I know things have been hard recently, and that you might find it hard to open up to Kunikida and the others about what happened and what you went through, so if you want, you can talk to me.”

“You’re still grieving.” Ranpo tried to argue. Tried being the key word, because Fukuzawa just raised an eyebrow at him.

“I can still grieve and take care of my employees.” Fukuzawa said, taking a moment to close his eyes before he opened them again. “I have all the time in the world to grieve over Genichiro, but I only have a limited amount of time before I find myself grieving you as well, Ranpo. And that is something I don’t wish to do.”

Carefully, Ranpo observed Fukuzawa and looked at the bags under his eyes that came from long meetings with the government and the grief of losing his childhood friend, the way he still held himself tall despite the exhaustion that weighed him down, and the way that despite all that, he still managed to look concerned for Ranpo. It made Ranpo want to curl up and cry, but he’d already done that plenty, so he squeezed his eyes shut and just breathed. “I’m just tired.”

“Of what?”

“Of being the pillar.” He didn’t say more than that, because he didn’t need to. Fukuzawa had known him long enough to know exactly what he meant, to know the weight of the words as he said them, because it was no secret that despite his childish nature, that Ranpo did enjoy his job. Sure, the case had to be interesting enough for him, or his co-workers sometimes had to beg him to take on cases that they could do themselves if they really tried, but he did enjoy solving cases. So for him to say that he was tired of it… well it was no wonder the Agency had panicked when he’d broken down.

But Fukuzawa was not like the others, he could read between the lines, and use the prior knowledge he had to formulate the correct response. It was just something that Fukuzawa had gotten good at over the years of deciphering Ranpo’s emotional state. “Do you wish to leave the Agency for a while?”

“Isn’t that what I’m already doing?”

Fukuzawa shook his head. “Right now, you are on a leave of absence. What I mean is that—”

“Boring.” Ranpo interrupted, pointing a finger in Fukuzawa’s direction. “You shouldn’t say stupid things, Fukuzawa-san, or people will start to think you’re losing it. I don’t want to leave the Agency. I’ll just stay on this leave of absence thing for a while and come back to work once I’m better.”

“If that’s the case, then you’ll need medical clearance to come back to work.”

What? Ranpo blinked, and then said it aloud. “What?”

“Medical clearance. And no, before you ask, Yosano cannot give you clearance.”

Ranpo knew immediately what Fukuzawa was getting at and huffed his annoyance. “You want me to go to therapy.”

“I do.” Fukuzawa nodded. “It’ll help.”

“I don’t know any therapists.”

“I think you’ll find that if you ask Poe-san, he’ll be able to help you out in that regard.”

Ranpo glared even though he knew it would do nothing but make Fukuzawa amused, and sure enough, the man raised a hand to hide his smile. “Can I at least do some work? I don’t want to spend my days watching soap operas.”

Fukuzawa’s smile grew just a little at his words. “I’ll ask the police to send you some cold cases. But you’ll have to wait until you return to work before you can work on active cases.”

“Ugh, fine.” Ranpo threw himself against the back of the couch, and stared at the ceiling for a moment. He could make do with some cold cases for now; it’d been a while since he’d worked on them, and it could be a fun bonding activity for him and Poe to take part in. Speaking of Poe… “Poe-kun’s making some American dish for dinner. You can stay if you’d like.”

The look Fukuzawa gave him was one of fondness, and the man nodded. “That would be nice. Will you talk to me if I do?”

“Maybe, if you don’t get pushy about it.”

“I think I can do that.”

#bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #edogawa ranpo #armed detective agency #edgar allan poe #fukuzawa yukichi #hurt/comfort #angst #comfort #mental breakdown #writing #fanfic

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thirdmagic · 13 days ago

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i have moved on to watching star trek TNG, with many warnings from people about how its a rough start. which i am ok with, like, i'm totally willing to sit through a rough start to get to the real good, it be like that sometimes and it seems like the show was struggling with a lot of things in its early production. (im not watching every episode and i am using a watch list but only bc 178 episodes is too much lol only sailor moon can get me to do that) and yeah some of the episodes i watched so far were indeed a very rough start despite also having interesting/good moments in between (and i just met data but i love him. data is cute). plus the show is so iconic and influential it feels like a waste not to give it a fair shake now that i'm into star trek already anyway.

mostly though its such a bizarre experience bc its like, basing itself in the aesthetics and world of TOS, but it feels like TOS is the eldest child struggling under the expectations and responsibilities, trying to be on its best behavior, being the perfect paragon child who pleases everyone while quietly going through a slow breakdown which culminates in just total burnout. and watching TNG feels like i'm watching its wild younger sibling going through an edgy phase trying to show off its maturity by proudly and loudly talking about sex and using swear words to shock all the adults around them. but their idea of being shockingly mature/graphic is still kinda tame because they're comparing themselves to their squeaky clean older sibling.

#journey between stars (star trek posts)

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somacruising · 1 year ago

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TALES OF THE RAYS: ION’S 3RD SKIT (ENGLISH TRANSLATION)

This is a direct continuation to Sync’s Side.

Since Ion’s side was finally put up on the Rays Wiki, I can actually take a crack at it now. Here is the Ion side of the skit released with the debut of his xMA \ Dual Mystic Arte with Sync. I got the screenshots from 八雲貴大 on YT.

[ SYNC AND ION ARE LEAVING THAT MEETING ]

Ion: How do you think that went, Sync? What did you think of Ix’s gathering? * どうでしたか、シンク。イクスサロンの感想は。

Sync: It was a waste of time. The end result of thought experiments and harboring delusions is a mental breakdown, isn’t it? That’s what the Necromancer is for. 時間の無駄だね。妄想と思考実験のなれの果ては精神の崩壊ってやつなんじゃない？こういうのは死霊使いの得意分野でしょ。

Ion: Hehe… フフフ･･････。

Sync: What? 何？

Ion: Jade said something very similar to you. He said: “Don’t you think you should take a break from your bad thoughts and pay attention to where you’re going?” ジェイドも同じようなことを言っていましたよ。「下手の考え休むに似たり、もっと足下を見た方がいいのではありませんか」って。

Ion: Jade doesn’t have much interest in the humanities. ジェイドは人文科学には興味がないそうです。

Sync: How about that. Well, I’ve already thought about this plenty while I was falling into the Planet’s Core. どうだかね。考え尽くして一度深淵にでも落ちたから避けてるんじゃないの。

[ LUKE AND LIBERA ENTER ]

Luke: —What the hell are you guys talking about? The meeting is over and you’re still talking about hard stuff. ――何だよ、お前ら。サロンが終わってもまだ難しい話をしてるのかよ。

Sync: You poor thing. You were made with a degraded brain, it’s natural you find this kind of talk difficult. 可哀想に。お前は脳みそが劣化して生まれたからこの程度の話を難しく感じるんだよ。

Libera: Sync, it’s not good to tell people they’re inferior! Anise said so. シンク！人に劣化なんて言ったらダメなんだよ。アニスが言ってた。

Sync: Shut up. We’re not people, anyway. We’re replicas. うるさいな。どうせ相手は人じゃなくてレプリカだ。

Libera: Replicas are people, too. Claire told me that we all share the same heart that thinks peach pie is delicious. Now, apologize to Luke. レプリカも人なの。クレアが言ってた。ピーチパイのことを美味しいと思う心は同じなんだよ。ほら、ルークに謝るの。

Sync: I told you to shut it. *sighs* Whatever, I’m sorry for telling the truth. うるさいな。あーあ、本当のことを言って悪かったね。

Libera: Sorry, Luke. Come on, Sync. As a reward, let’s get some sweets from Nevan. ごめんね、ルーク。さ、シンク。ご褒美にネヴァンからお菓子をもらおう。

[ LIBERA BOUNCES TOWARDS SYNC ]

Sync: I already told you, quit yanking my arm! You’ll dislocate— だ��ら、腕を引っ張るな！肩が―――

[ SYNC IS DRAGGED OFF SCREEN ]

Luke: …That Sync, he’s the same as ever. ･･････シンクの奴、相変わらずだな。

Ion: I agree… Or, well, I do think that Sync might have changed a little. そうですね･･････。いえ、でも少し変わったかも知れません。

Luke: You think? そうか？

Ion: I think that Sync would have refused to even be in the same room as me back in our original world. 元の世界にいた頃のシンクなら、僕と同じ空間にいることすら拒絶したのではないかと思うんです。

Ion: But now, Sync seems to be starting to make compromises with himself. けれど今のシンクは、少しだけ譲歩してくれているように感じます。

Luke: I guess that’s because we have no reason to be hostile anymore. 今は敵対する必要がないから、とかかな。

Ion: Yes…that might be right. そう･･････なんでしょうか。

Ion: I don’t know exactly why he’s changed, but I’m glad. I feel like Sync is starting to find more meaning in being himself, rather than just being another one of our original’s replicas. 理由はわかりませんが、嬉しいです。シンクがシンク自身に、被験者イオンのレプリカであるということ以上の意味を見出し始めているような気がして。

Luke: I hope so. I feel like I’m starting to finally feel like I am who I am because of my friends—you and everyone else. そうだといいな。俺は仲間が―――イオンやみんながいてやっと、俺が俺であるって思えるようになったから。

Ion: Including me? But I haven’t… 僕も、ですか？僕は何も･･････。

Luke: What are you talking about? You’re super important. 何言ってんだよ。イオンはすげえ重要だぜ。

Luke: After all, no matter how many replicas there are of Ion, no matter how many Luke replicas were made, you and I are the only ones who met in the Cheagle Woods. だってイオンが何人いても、ルークのレプリカが何人いても、チーグルの森で出会ったのは俺とお前だけなんだから。

Ion: !!

Luke: That’s what makes you special. だからさ、特別なんだ。

Ion: You’re right. You and I are proof of each other’s unique existences. Thank you, Luke! はい。僕たちはお互い、唯一無二であることの証明者ですね。ありがとう、ルーク！

* NOTE: the actual term Ion uses is “Ix’s salon”, which confused me until I found out that a salon can also be an “informal gathering of artists at a notable figure’s house.”

#tales of the rays #totrays #tales of the abyss #sync the tempest #fon master ion #libera #luke fon fabre #ion

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luckyagain · 10 months ago

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You're 25 have some shame

i am 25 so at least my pre-frontal cortex is fully developed unlike yours :)

anyway i'm learning about anti-platelet and anti-coagulant drugs in school right now. and i'm gonna use your anon to brain dump everything i know so that some actual use can come from the three seconds of my life i wasted reading this. okay so from my understanding when there is an injury that causes bleeding the injured endothelial cells release endothelium which promotes vasoconstriction of the smooth muscle cells to prevent blood loss. they also secrete von willebrand factors which bind to the collagen that the endothelial cells reveal underneath them. the platelets are just zooming by in our blood but they stop and bind to the von willebrand factors via their gpIb receptor, this binding also leads to a localized effect. this causes platelet activation and degranulation of thrombin, serotonin, thromboxane A2, and ADP. the thrombin binds to the PAR-1 receptor on the surface of the cell and further promotes platelet activation. TXA2 promotes vasoconstriction and helps promote the activation of the GP2B3A receptor. ADP can bind to either the P2Y1 or P2Y12 receptors, when it binds to P2Y1 it causes an increases in intracellular calcium. when it binds to P2Y12 it leads to a breakdown of cAMP via phosphodiesterase which eventually can lead to the activation of the GP2B3A receptor on the surface of the cell. the fibrinogen is able to bind to the GP2B3A receptor and then be converted into fibrin in order to start the linkage and meshwork surrounding the platelets. and then you have the whole coagulation cascade going on that i don't feel like explaining right now. you have COX-1 inhibitors like aspirin which irreversibly inhibit, via acetylation, the COX-1 enzyme that produces TXA2 so those levels will decrease leading to less vasoconstriction and less activation of the GP2B3A receptor. aspirin has adverse SE like GI issues like ulcers because in inhibiting COX-1 it's preventing COX-1 from producing PGE2 which helps protecting the stomach lining from the stomach acid. aspirin "allergies" work similarly, you can have bronchospams because PGE2 promotes bronchodilation. another class of anti-platelets would be P2Y12 inhibitors. your first-line would be clopidogrel, however, there is some genetic variability in how patient's react to it because it is a pro-drug. other pro-drugs that are irreversible inhibitors are prasugrel and ticlopidine, the latter is specifically not a first-line because it has an adverse effect of causing neutropenia. a P2Y12 ihibitor that is not a pro-drug and is reversible is ticagrelor. all four of these drugs have a rare SE of TTP. You also have PDE inhibitors that prevent phosphodiesterase from breaking down cAMP which would prevent the expression of the GP2B3A receptor. those are cilostazol and dipyridamole, the latter of which is on the beer's list and should not be prescribed to the elderly because there is an increase fall risk associated with it due to it cause orthostatic hypotension. there's also GP2B3A inhibitors that are only administered IV in hospitals because they have short-term effects so that means they are reversible; they are also used when patients are allergic to P2Y12 inhibitors. lastly, you have par-1 inhibitors like vorapaxor that prevent thrombin from binding to the par-1 inhibitor which will decrease platelet activation. and that's all i got because i don't feel like talking about anti-coagulation drugs right now.

#my brain feels full #i have so much studying to do #like whats the point of this anon hate #you gave me zero context lmaooooo #anyway i hope you learned something!!#rip i had a typo it's endothelium and endothelial cells!!!!

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bogunicorn · 1 year ago

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cw for talk about weight, food, disordered eating, mental health, suicidal feelings (but only a little)

i am no longer the heaviest i've ever been.

i weighed myself... at some point earlier this year. the months are such a blur i honestly don't know. but i definitely was, at some point in 2023, 386 or 389 pounds, and i had a big breakdown about almost being 390 which is almost 400, because i've got it in my brain that 400lbs is some kind of moral point of no return or something. (it is not. if you're reading this and you're 400lbs+, please don't use my feelings about my own body as a judgement on yours. my depression and self-dislike is not a reflection on other people and does not mean that i'm actively judging other people. it just means that i, personally, am very physically uncomfortable and unwell. i hate that i feel like i need a disclaimer in this part but i know how sticky this is and i want to be extra careful. good? good.)

anyway, i weighed myself today just for the fuck of it, and i'm 379. so now i don't get to use "i'm the fattest i've ever been" to bludgeon myself with. granted, i've lost that weight by Being Poor and Depressed, basically; i've developed, like... just kind of an apathy. i don't have cravings, i no longer have the urge to binge, i don't get anxious or sad when i don't feel like finishing my food anymore (which was often the cause of binging, the feeling that if i don't finish my food i'm wasting it and therefore Bad and Stupid).

i've talked to my wife, because we're grocery shopping today or tomorrow, and i've decided to try going gluten- and dairy-free again. if i don't really care what i'm eating, i might as well eat healthier and be kinder to my insides. right now i'm literally only eating gluten and dairy because it's easy to get my hands on and i've been avoiding food until i'm actually sick, not because i want to eat it, and it's just doing nasty things to my stomach.

i also have a GP appointment in february and want to talk about food sensitivities, because i'm sick all the time. i ordered a new blank journal just to track my food and my stomach issues and menstrual stuff. no measurements, no calorie-counting, no concentrated attempts to lose weight. i want the best possible medical advice when i see my doctor, and have 6 months of information when i get there will really help, i think.

usually when i'm like "i'm gonna get healthy", it feels like this massive chore and i'm very put upon about it and resentful about giving things up. but i don't really feel like that this time? food feels neutral, finally. the idea of giving up gluten/dairy and then using that as an excuse not to snack is strangely comforting? i have to be careful that i don't swing the other way into complete avoidance, but that's what the tracking is for. i also saved some food prep containers on my amazon wishlist to buy when i have money.

i feel like some part of my brain just, like, snapped and went, "you can get your shit together or you can kill yourself but you have to pick one." and i want to be happier. i want to live. so i guess i'm getting my shit together.

I also deleted all my diet and fasting apps. that's a firm boundary I need to set for myself. no calorie tracking, no deliberate fasting.

#bog post #delete later #again disclaimer: this is about *me*#i don't judge other people by my own standards #mostly bc part of my self-hatred is that i believe that i'm somehow uniquely horrid #and don't deserve help or being taken care of #and every flaw makes me that much worse of a person #i attach no morality to other people's weight/eating habits/mental health #do not read my personal post about these things if you're going to walk away assuming i'm saying things about *you* in the process #that's not fair to either of us

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gmanwhore · 2 years ago

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Well better get this ramble over with sorry if it sucks I am tired as fuck. Anyways this is my au where I assign all the main HLVRAI characters Will Wood songs and give them even more trauma. This will make no sense I can't explain it properly help.

Small guide:

Plot first

Character roles

Character descriptions

Tags for people to see this: @benreyplushie @catbitsysinteractsxd @breakcoreboxcat @pigeonwheel

Ok so like Gordon left the game, but all the characters were still there. The world hadn't shut off for some reason. They were all left stranded in a dead storyline. It was decided that they would simply....build a new Gordon. Of course, this new Gordon is not quite right, but no one knows how yet. They all try to move on.

We now zoom to the future. The Science Team all live in a sort of town together, but it's no longer going well. In the beginning everyone had gotten along well, but because they are trying to progress a story without a main character they are literally breaking their universe, and that is taking a toll on everyone. The characters are pretty much decaying as they try to continue their own story.

Gman is technically running the town, but due to the breakdown he has hidden himself away from everyone else to avoid the guilt of being the one to suggest this. He hadn't meant for everyone to decay, he hadn't known that insanity of this level was a side effect of forcing a storyline. He's slowly losing the ability to talk anyways. Because of his guilt it has gotten to the point where no one is allowed to visit his room but Tommy, and even then Gman can't stand it because of the guilt.

Coomer has stepped up as leader of the little community, and he seems fairly normal, barring the fact his flashes of self awareness are much more frequent and are slowly causing permanent damage to Coomer. He is nearing the point of no return, when he will won't be able to close his eyes to the truth anymore. Of course, how he acts when aware is unfortunately much more similar to the Coomer clones scene then any other time. He desperately wants to leave, and now he has the added bonus of not wanting to die of his mind being wrenched apart. Because of the struggle he has had trouble with interacting with the rest of the Science Team, and he's grown a bit more distanced.

Benrey is still upset he was the villian. He can't get over the fact that he died, that who he thought were his friends killed him. Even if he knew it was coming it still hurts. He's actually the least affected by the mass breakdown. Sometimes he will actually make it worse for people. (he was the first to be banned from seeing Gman after giving him a morality crisis) Benrey mostly just doesn't care anymore. Since the story is over he doesn't have to fit the role of a villian anymore but it's all he knows so he's going to lean into it. He does try to be nice, but it usually backfires.

Bubby literally doesn't care. He's let the breakdown fully consume him, and accepted the fact that this is how it will be. He's actually kind of enjoying it, as now his odd behavior isn't questioned. He also just leaned really heavily into the mad scientist trope. He's currently trying to build a rocket so he can finally see the stars like he's always wanted too.

Tommy is trying to help everyone. He knows this whole situation is hurting everyone, and he just wants them all to be happy. Everyone is glad to have his help, but most people are a little too eager to have someone who is willing to help them in any way possible. Tommy has become a caretaker for everyone, and it's beginning to take a mental toll on his because he can't fix anything and that makes every effort to help people just pointless because nothing will change.

Gordon knows that he is just a copy of someone else. He is keenly aware of this, actually, and Benrey never wastes an opportunity to remind him. He doesn't even know who he's based on because everyone explains Gordon differently so if he tried to be all of them he'd end up contradicting himself which he doesn't want. He's just suffering at this point.

Aight so like...they look different in the au and I leaned wayyyy into puppet imagery so slay. Also I just want to say the black liquid is a physical representation on mental decay. Mhm I am so cool and slay.

Gman

Song; Thermodynamic Lawyer esq G.F.D

Description: Gman looks a lot more like a ventriloquist dummy then anything. His face is too smooth, and his mouth goes up and down instead of opening. There is a large crack in his mouth that allows something dark and sticky to ooze out. His suit is no longer blue, it is the hot pink and black checked pattern of a glitch.

Coomer

Song: Suburbia Overture/Welcome to Mary Bell Township!/Vampire Culture/Love Me, Normally

Appearance: Coomer's eyes are now permantly lime green, and constantly spinning. He had strings, but they are quite obviously broken and drag on the ground. His eyes leak that same dark substance. When his personality shifts, his head cracks open and falls in half just slightly.

Benrey

Song: Laplace's Angel (Hurt People? Hurt People!)

Description: Benrey looks the same, except instead of his uniform being blue it is golden and glowing. He also has a halo. Half of his skull is exposed, and he has bullet holes all over him seeping the dark substance. He still has strings, and they seem to be attached to something above him though what that something is no one knows.

Bubby

Song: 2econd 2ight 2eer (That Was Fun, Goodbye!)

Description: Bubby has gained a third eye, it's iris is cyan like his text colour. His arms up to his elbows are blacked and charred, but still usable. All the clothes he wears are torn or shredded but not in complete disrepair, it seems almost artistic. He will occasionally leave wet black hand prints on things.

Tommy

Song: Skeleton Appreciation Day in Vestal NY.

Description: Tommy is missing an eye, and while it's mostly covered up with his shirt he is missing the skin and muscles from his chest. The lost eye had been replace with a button. Parts of his skeleton are visible at times, but the spots seem to move around his body at random. The gaps in his flesh ooze the black liquid.

Gordon (Sunshine)

Song: Dr. Sunshine Is Dead

Description: He appears to be made of fabric, unlike everyone else who either has a wooden or plastic appearance. His right arm is mangled beyond repair. He wears something akin to an HEV suit, but it looks more like pajamas then armour. His right eye is yellow, and his left eye is blue. His hair cannot be taken down from the ponytail, like a doll's hair that has been glued there. He lacks the black ooze.

#hlvrai #half life but the ai is self aware #benrey #hlvrai benrey #tommy coolatta #hlvrai tommy #hlvrai gordon #dr. coomer #gordon feetman #hlvrai coomer #bubby #hlvrai bubby #gman coolatta #hlvrai gman #lookat my funky au #it is so cool #project mary bell township

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electriccenturies · 4 months ago

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Autistic Anthropology

(In defence of embracing a certain sort of neurodiversity)

How do you embrace a disability that causes you so much stress? I think the concept of “autistic pride” is hard to swallow for a lot of people, whether because they themselves suffer from their autism, or because someone they love is impacted in such a way that looks an awful lot like suffering. It’s hard for me to come to grips with, too. I have a lot (a LOT) of thoughts on this, and especially about the flattening of the autistic experience by (and for the benefit of) the least impacted among us. It’s hard to look at the mainstream autistic pride movement and come away thinking something other than, “I don’t know if this is helpful for all autistic people…” or “if I had a severely autistic child, I think I’d see these people as my child’s enemy too”. I say this to explain my position, and also so you don’t think I’m doing the same thing here, focusing on only my high-functioning peers while claiming to speak for all. I do not!

(If you are also interested in that other side of things, I recommend you read Freddie DeBoer’s excellent article “The Gentrification of Disability”.)

Personally, I am one of those people who wishes they weren’t autistic. At the same time, I’ve come to understand that there is, indeed, a logic and a sense of community within my experience as an autistic person. I’d like to examine this.

If you are autistic yourself, maybe there will be something helpful for you here in terms of losing any shame you hold in that. And, if you’re not autistic, maybe you can get some insight into a set of social norms that are different from – yet entirely within – your own.

First, a word on language: I don’t particularly care for the word “allistic”, mainly because so few people in the general public regularly encounter it often ends up taking longer than just saying the definition. However, for the sake of clarity here, where it will come up frequently, I am going to define it anyway, and use it in lieu of getting into an argument about what the word “neurotypical” means. So: “allistic”, a word which here means “not autistic”.

Now, on to the cultural relativism bit!

The first order of business is to shift your concept of “pride” and “self acceptance”. Rather than seeing those things as good, or even neutral, you can just see them as the opposite of shame. You do not have to enjoy being autistic to reap the benefits of autistic pride, because guess what — you’re stuck autistic whether you approve of that or not. I will appeal to the autistic sense of logic here: the best option is totally irrelevant; what really matters is the best available option. I would love a cure myself, but there isn’t one and never will be, so why waste my time wallowing in that? How will shame help anything? Maybe the best option is to be allistic, but the best available option is to work with what I have.

The next task is, naturally, to learn to work with it. I think one of the best ways to go about this is to understand your struggles as a culture clash of sorts, and to imagine yourself not as wrong — nor everyone else as absurd — but as simply different. Those differences don’t have to be neutral in practice (and in fact, they often aren’t, at least in the context of being an extreme minority), but they are morally and logically neutral. The same way that allistics often label autistic behaviour as meaningless, I think we autistics tend to do the same in reverse. People seldom do things for no reason at all.

This is the double empathy problem: the breakdown in communication between allistic and autistic people is a two way street. Our lack of understanding is mutual, and — like anything cultural — experiences outside our ‘normal’ can be challenging to make sense of.

Personally, I figure myself a bit of an anthropologist of allistic culture. I think I am pretty decent at “masking” (hiding my autistic traits), meaning that if you talk to me in person, you probably won't know that something is ‘off’. Maybe you’d pick up that I’m anxious, or a bit idiosyncratic, or fidgety, but you probably wouldn’t guess autism. This is not natural to me; it’s a learned process. It’s a learned thing for everyone, I think — autistic or not — but for autistic people it doesn’t ever become automatic or intuitive. The rules don’t get internalized, they just get compiled into an ever-expanding mental resource that you can learn to frantically flip through as best you can in the moment. It’s a very conscious process, at least for me, and it’s draining as hell. More purist advocates of autistic pride will tell you you should simply not mask at all for this reason; I think that will also make your life worse, because you still have to live in a world where 97-point-whatever percent of the population is allistic. This is such an overwhelming majority that it is all but impossible to get by if you don’t know how to adapt.

For any allistic readers who are struggling to conceptualize what it’s like to live inherently outside the norm (which is understandable), I’d explain it like this: top live in allistic society is akin to being in a play where everyone else knows all their lines, but you don’t even have the script. Everyone keeps telling you, “it’s easy, just memorize the script!” and ignores you when you try to explain that you can memorize just fine, the problem is that you never got a copy of the script to memorize from. Still, nobody will give you one, and if you don’t work at picking up little clues here and there as to what your lines are, you will have a very hard time of things. Quite the conundrum! This is where the benefits of masking comes in.

I actually think it’s really important and empowering for autistic people to understand that everyone is ‘acting’ to some extent. Autistics just struggle with it more because the desire to do so is less innate, and because we do not get access to the same level of information as an allistic person does (ie. you can manually learn to read social cues all you want, but it won’t do any good if you’re not picking up on said social cues to interpret). It is also culturally foreign to us, because we tend to value authenticity in a way allistic society does not. If you imagine it this way, it becomes (slightly) less of a burden and more of a tool that you can wield. You can learn the rules well enough to know when it’s worth breaking them. You can gain a level of autonomy that so many of us crave.

In my experience, autistic people tend to see this sort of thinking as manipulative — which it is — but in fact it’s normal social manipulation. Or, maybe expected is a better word. It’s permissible by society, if not by our internal moral code. I think this a nifty little tool for self acceptance; it allows you to see these decisions as functional things for your own benefit rather than as a show you put on for others. I also think autistic people are, on average, well equipped for the skills needed to do this, the innate researchers we tend to be.

So, that’s the first piece of this — understanding the culture you were born into, and learning how to live in it. Here are my, uh, ASDs, if you will, of developing that sort of cultural awareness.

Advocate & Accommodate

One thing I do think autism advocates are largely right about is that allistic society spends far too much time and energy trying to un-weird us. There are autistic traits that are limiting, distressing, or objectively an issue — and those things are worth working on — but there are many autistic traits and habits that are subjective problems. That is, they are only ‘problems’ in that they are culturally strange to allistic people. This also goes for adaptive things that, by adulthood, many of us needlessly deprive ourselves of despite the fact that it would make our lives better at no cost to ourselves or anyone else, all in pursuit of an unattainable ‘normal’.

By this I mean little things, like managing sensory issues, or engaging in activities that are meaningful and joyful,though atypical they may be. As an adult, you can do things like cut the tags off your clothes, or wear your socks inside out to avoid the seams, or use children's fruit-flavoured toothpaste if mint is too much, or carry around a fidget toy, or eat the exact same thing for dinner every day, and nobody even has to know! It’s such a pity that so many of us have been asked to feel shame about our needs to the point where we will ignore them even when meeting them does not come with consequences.

I think autistic people often have somewhat-too-flexible mental boundaries (or ‘poor theory of mind’, I guess) and are so used to acting that we feel like we always have an audience. It’s important to learn when we don’t. It’s confusing, granted, because allistic society does judge, they’re just not omniscient about it.

Likewise, it’s important to learn when not to care about the judgement. Something that has made my life somewhat better is being more open about my diagnosis in the sense of specifics. I don’t generally go around telling people I’m autistic just for their understanding (though I would if I found it productive), but I will say things like, “I don’t want to be annoying, but I’m not going to pick up on hints that I am, so if I’m bothering you you’ll have to tell me directly and I’ll do my best to stop”. Personally, I feel less stressed when my intentions and needs are clearly stated. This is not culturally ‘typical’ for allistics, who are often much more indirect… but I’m not trying to be culturally appropriate; I’m trying to bridge the gap

Script & Study

Many allistic social norms are actually highly scripted, and if you study the reasoning behind it you can build a set of relatively easy social algorithms that can help keep you from getting stuck. I highly recommend giving this a try; I have found that it lets me have a degree of control over something that is frustratingly illogical to me, and it helps me engage with the world sans-shame. Again: I’m not stupid, I’m (cognitively) foreign.

If you are an allistic person reading this, I implore you to use a bit of cultural relativism here as I try to explain the machinery behind things that, to you, might seem base-level inherent to personhood. You don’t think about these things because they are fundamental building blocks of your culture, well-normalized by the way you grew up, but they are not objectively correct. They are only correct through consensus, and, in the case of an allistic person vs an autistic one, because you have a brain tuned to these sorts of behaviours.

Basically, my theory on this is that it’s a lot easier for autistic people to do uncomfortable things if there is a clear answer to “why”. Autistic people value logical reasoning; we can learn the reasoning behind allistic cultural weirdness. If you ask allistic people these sorts of “why” questions, you will often get an answer along the lines of “that’s just how the world works”, or “because it’s polite”, or “because it’s the right thing to do”. Ask “why” again and people get upset because they don’t need to think about that stuff… but there is an answer, they just don’t know it. It’s innate to them, or they’ve intuitively picked up on it. For autistic people, this is our second language, so we have to understand the grammar — so to speak — in a bit more of an active way.

Where I (and many other autistics, I think, going off of what I see in autistic spaces) get stuck is in the ambiguity of neurotypical social interaction. We are literal, black-and-white thinkers in an indirect, wishy-washy culture. This is what I mean about one’s manual reading of social cues being only as good as their perception; autistic perception for social cues tends to be bad, because we work in fundamentally opposite ways to allistic society. Where allistics are indirect, autistics are direct; where allistics value conformity, autistics value authenticity; where allistics need interpersonal rituals to establish their hierarchy, autistics reject the rituals and the hierarchy. It leads to building algorithms that can go something like (for instance) this:

As you can see, you end up with 19 possible outcomes, which is a lot to sort through! It’s easy if you can directly follow a path, but remember: that requires a lot of information that an autistic person might not get access to. Or, sometimes the answers are ambiguous. It’s entirely possible to not only get stuck before getting to the right solution, but to get stuck before reaching any solution at all. I chose this example of small talk because, in my experience, it trips a lot of autistic people up even if they know how to solve it in theory. “Does this person want a genuine response” is a really hard question to answer if you do not understand the norms behind it.

I think the idea that our social skills are not lacking, but merely different, can coexist with the understanding that this becomes a disability when it is such a small proportion of people. You have to understand that autistic people (including yourself) don’t do things for no reason. Our social actions also have a logic to them — more of a logic, in my obviously biased opinion.

… Don’t?

If you are doing conscious cost-benefit analysis, then you can also decide what is not worth masking for. Remember, this is not an exercise in coming across as allistic, it’s an exercise in getting the most out of your life as an autistic person in an allistic world.

An example would be that, personally, I don't really care to put effort into making good eye contact not because I don’t feel self conscious about it, not because I don’t know the purposes it serves for allistic culture, not because it never limits me… but because I’ve decided it’s not worth it. The cost (finding it hard to focus and think, hindering my ability to communicate effectively) is not worth the benefit (allistics thinking I’m paying attention ‘correctly’). I have a hard enough time with oral communication, why would I make it worse for a superficial benefit? If you can justify these little things to yourself, I think it becomes much easier to accept it when people are upset about it. I know I accommodate them much of the time, so I don’t feel any shame asking them to accommodate me on major functional things — that’s called give-and-take! If people aren’t okay with that… well, most of the time they are not people I want in my life.

This also goes for things like recreation. I think you should simply not go to parties if you hate them, instead of trying to force yourself just because you (or someone else) thinks that’s what you’re “supposed” to do. You should not work on “diversifying” your interests just because people think it’s wrong to care so much about something repetitive or mundane. You should not change the media you consume just because others judge, you should not give up what brings you joy for completely arbitrary reasons. If you know what’s arbitrary and what is, well, slightly less arbitrary, then these choices are easier to make.

After this, you can shift to making choices to, at different times, either adapt, consciously not adapt, or to find people who are easier to connect with. That last bit is key, I think. It’s important to find yourself a metaphorical enclave of ‘expats’ of allistic society. This is invariably going to include other autistic people, but it can also include those who are otherwise ‘other’ and more willing to adjust communication styles. These relationships are, in my opinion, generally best when they stem from a connection aside from autism — from a shared interest or activity, perhaps. In my experience, these relationships with others of our culture can be not just fulfilling, but also healing in that things make sense for once. I know how to talk to autistic people in a way I’ve never managed to grasp with allistic people.

I don’t think that experience is uncommon; one of the core differences between autistic and allistic communication norms is that the balance of “information sharing” to “emotional negotiation” is tilted differently. When I talk to other autistic people, I am always pleasantly shocked at how smoothly it goes. We don’t waste time on emotional subtext: if someone has a concern or feels hurt, they say so. Otherwise we simply pass information back and forth, which is enjoyable if you like the same sorts of information. Having people who share your culture and can do such things is vital to a happy existence as a minority.

So there you have it: a different way to view autism, and a less stressful way to make it through the world. I hope this has been helpful, or at the very least has encouraged you to question what you perceive as ‘normal’ or ‘obvious’ — in yourself, or in others. Like I said: it’s a two-way street! We just have to care to understand each other, and keep perspective when we don’t.

#my writing #this is what resulted from that thing I was writing before…

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thebibliomancer · 4 months ago

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Essential Avengers: Avengers West Coast #62: the Witching Hour!

September, 1990

In final battle against IMMORTUS

Oh, comics, you silly. Always labeling things final when you know that they're just going to happen again.

Wonder Man isn't looking well. I think he forgot to eat his Wheaties.

Anyway. Immortus. What gives?

Last times on Avengers West Coast: a lot of things have happened. But apparently it was all Immortus' fault, manipulating Scarlet Witch from early in her career to make her fall for Vision so she would later have fake kids with him an have a mental breakdown over losing them. All so Immortus could use her powers, which he jacked up, to take control of time. For reasons. He's also been winnowing down the infinite divergent timelines to just one. Also for reasons.

Honestly, who cares? Let's just get this over with so we can hopefully move onto stories that aren't about torturing Wanda Maximoff.

The Avengers West Coast and Quicksilver are hesitant to attack Immortus as long as he has a catatonic Scarlet Witch as a hostage but he scoffs. He's not going to hurt her! She's so very essential to his plan!

Through her power, he'll safeguard whatever future he decided is the only correct future! You could say, that as a hero, this is what Wanda should be doing to serve the entire multiverse!

The Avengers and Quicksilver tell Immortus that he's dumb and these answers in no way satisfy them.

I'd also like to add that the team recovering between issues from their hard fought victories or near-defeats makes most of the last issue completely pointless.

I love a good Legion of the Unliving, I do, but it was all time wasting.

Anyway, hearing that Immortus needs Wanda for his plans, the Avengers and Quicksilver all charge in to kick Immortus' head in.

He tells them to knock it off because they might rouse Wanda from her trance.

Protip: Telling a hero team that the thing they're doing will thwart you will make them want to do it more.

So Immortus summons more assistance. Which he wouldn't have needed to do if he hadn't gotten rid of the Legion of the Unliving, for some reason.

Although in this case, the assistance is a big white dude named Tempus, the guardian of Castle Limbo. Which explains why he's never showed up any other time the Avengers have been here.

He can age anyone he touches, I guess. Which is a cool power to have in a world that is explicitly timeless.

Back at the Avengers West Coast Compound on Earth, Agatha Harkness yells at the afterimage of Immortus for his evil plans.

Agatha Harkness: "I know what you're planning, Immortus -- and you're a fiend! But -- why am I wasting my time shouting at a transparent doppleganger like you?" Afterimage Immortus: "I am sure I have no idea, Agatha Harkness."

What a weird series of writing decisions led us to this point.

Agatha realizes that she needs to get to Limbo to help Wanda but the only way to get there is for her to astral project her ethereal self out of her body and dive into Afterimage Immortus. Because of reasons, this sends her to Limbo.

Where the Avengers are getting their various asses kicked by Tempus, guardian of Limbo Castle.

Tempus smacks Old Man Wonder Man with his big club, knocking the aged hero at US Agent who catches him. And then passes the fuck out from the impact.

Hawkeye is surprised US Agent would be a team player - although he also calls him John Walters instead of John Walker.

Quicksilver watches Tempus no-sell attacks from Hank Pym, Hawkeye, and Iron Man and wonders whether even his superspeed will be able to help.

But seeing Trance Wanda inspires Quicksilver.

Quicksilver: "Wanda -- can you hear me behind that shield? We have been through so much, together and apart. For you to become, now, nothing but a human storage battery for Immortus to draw on -- no matter how noble or vital he claims his purpose is -- ! NO! In the name of Heaven itself -- no good was ever born -- out of something so clearly evil!"

Then he runs really fast and bonks Tempus with a club-shaped piece of rock.

Which doesn't knock Tempus down but at least gets him to react like he's been hit.

Iron Man and Hawkeye speculate whether it was because Quicksilver hit Tempus with a piece of the castle he's the guardian of. Hawkeye wondering whether he could make arrows out of it.

Tempus gets right pissed and decides to hit the Avengers and Quicksilver with... TIMESTORM!

Everyone of them is forced to relive their own "most fearful, most deeply buried memories!"

Which. I dunno.

That's not what I'd call a timestorm. Trip during memory lane. But not a timestorm.

And I dunno.

Quicksilver sees himself and Wanda fleeing one of the angry mobs that are ever-present in Eastern Europe and America in comics. I think, specifically, the ones that led to them being discovered by Magneto.

Hawkeye sees the moment of broken pedestal when he discovered his idol mentor Swordsman was stealing from the circus.

Wonder Man re-experiences that time he died. Again.

Hank Pym re-lives when he had to identify his first wife's dead body.

Iron Man gets that shrapnel to the heart moment. Oddly, not anything related to his alcoholism or Armor Wars.

Wasp sees when her dad was killed by an alien, all the way back in her first appearance.

And US Agent sees when his mom and dad were killed in front of his eyes by the far-right Watchdogs group.

All very emotionally devastating to have to go through again but I don't know if all of these would qualify as most fearful or most emotionally devastating. And the point is to confront the heroes with "the foe which, above all others, you can not hope to defeat."

But.

Everyone here has lived through these memories already. They've continued on. Coming to terms with what happened or not but still able to keep going.

Like, Wonder Man has coped with dying. So. MANY. TIMES.

This is called a timestorm so you'd think it'd be horrible, character-specific What-Ifs! Although, that wouldn't work with Immortus hating branching timelines. But still! Seems like a more interesting idea.

Whatever. Either way, these bad memories are enough to floor the Avengers and Quicksilver and leave them quivering helpless.

Agatha Harkness has basically just watched all this happen, sure she could do nothing to influence events.

But then she thinks 'what if yes can influence?'

And since Immortus is really distracted by watching the Avengers quiver, Agatha uses her mystic rapport with Wanda to try to contact her mind.

Agatha begs Wanda to give up the extra power that Immortus has been jamming into her. That if she gives up the ability to "alter the probabilities of cosmic timelines", then Immortus won't have a use for her.

But Wanda doesn't react.

Meanwhile, Immortus is wondering whether he needs to kill the Avengers or not. He should would hate to fit into the villain niche they're trying to jam him into but on the other hand he also hates that they might keep getting in the way so, yeah, sure, go ahead and kill them Tempus.

Agatha is able to get the faintest of brief reactions from Wanda when she begs her to fight against Immortus' control for the sake of her robot husband and for the sake of her imaginary kids who aren't real.

Okay, Agatha doesn't put it that way but the reality of Vision being an emotionless machine now and the kids being totally fake not real causes the ploy to not work.

So Agatha instead tries pleading for the Avengers' lives. Surely the Avengers hold a place in her heart? Her brother? Her friends?

Agatha runs out of time because Immortus can "feel their presence -- within my brain!"

While he blasts Agatha with PSYCHIC ENERGY, he orders Tempus to finish off the Avengers.

As Agatha fades she pleads for Wanda to "Reject those extra powers you never wanted -- for the sake of those who love you -- reject them also for the sake of those you love -- Reject the powers, Wanda! Reject themmmmm"

Wanda does awake. And she does reject the powers. And she basically declares "No more this arc."

And expelling the energy apparently somehow creates new timelines diverging from the most fearful, most deeply buried memories that were tormenting the Avengers.

Wanda and Pietro get burned at the stake instead of being rescued by Magneto. Grim.

Hawkeye scolds Swordsman into not doing crime.

Tony Stark dies of the shrapnel.

Wonder Man's death triggers a burst of radiation which kills all the Avengers except Thor.

Janet van Dyne is killed by the alien that killed her dad.

Maria Pym just... stops being dead on the morgue slab. Didn't even try to come up with a reasonable divergence on that one.

And the spray of bullets that would have killed Mr and Mrs Walker instead miraculously miss them.

These changes jar the Avengers from their bad memories floor quivering and also alarm Immortus who shouts that AGATHA HARKNESS HAS DOOMED THE VERY MULTIVERSE.

So dramatic.

Not Evil Anymore Wanda wonders if her blasting out all that energy is what will doom existence and thinks maybe she can just slurp it back up.

But then the Time Keepers show up and tell her not to bother.

Immortus is again alarmed. These are his boss mentors and them showing up is like they don't think he can do his job without intervention.

Time Keepers: "Immortus... be still. Long ago, we appointed you custodian of the segment of time between 3000 B.C. and 4000 A.D. Your duties required little more than the eventual transmutation of a particular nexus being into a source of power. You were to use that power over probabilities to safeguard key events which must occur in various timelines, in order to assure a certain future in which we have a vested interest... but even that simple assignment seems to have proven too difficult for you to fulfill."

Okay, so these are the dicks that told Immortus to go after Wanda?

Wellll, no. They gave him a list and he chose Wanda off of it. But choosing Wanda and then letting the Avengers and Agatha Harkness meddle caused such temporal chaos that it puts all futures in jeopardy and risks the Time Keepers never existing.

And what a big loss that would be.

Look. Immortus is a sometimes food. Too much of any Kang or Kang derivative is too much. But the Time Keepers kind of take away the only kinda cool thing Immortus had going for him. He's just middle management now.

Also, the Time Keepers are introducing so many words words words to this ending.

Wanda doesn't really care about all the words words words. She just points a finger at Immortus for fucking up her life. Immortus can only weakly claim he was just doing his job.

And then the Time Keepers jump in to remind him that he was shit at his job. And apparently, Immortus was trying to get control over all of time instead of the seven millennia they promised him?

I really can't care at this point.

The Avengers are all standing around commenting on this but it's just prolonging things.

US Agent yells at the Time Keepers that he wants to arrest Immortus and take him to trial by the US Government. The Time Keepers blah blah blah our actions are ineffable our deeds for the greater good. Also, we're cosmically powerful and you're a guy with a metal disc.

Hawkeye and US Agent can't take the Time Keepers' cockiness and both try to attack them. The Keepers just crank the velocity on the arrow and the shield way down and then commentate on which one would reach them first, ie which Avenger launched a faster attack.

Apparently Hawkeye wins but by so little it's hardly worth doing this sequence.

US Agent concedes that messing with Galactus-tier dudes is annoying and asks Hawkeye what they do now.

Hawkeye: "Not much... unless you've got a deck of cards up your sleeve."

Hah. I think he's suggesting they just play poker until all the exposition finishes.

Despite having fumbled the ball, Immortus demands his prize anyway. Because dammit, he worked really hard! And just as a reminder, that prize was rule over the stretch of time from when he was Pharaoh Rama-Tut to the time he spent as Kang conquering the year 4000.

Not that Immortus was ever that cool but he seems so much less cool when he's whining about 7000 years versus when he surveyed all time and had grown out of a desire to rule.

You suck, this new Immortus.

And apparently the Time Keepers agree.

They gather all the energy Wanda expelled and shove it into Immortus.

He at first crows at how much more powerful he's growing and then, like Wanda, he becomes catatonic.

Now, he will remain unmoving in Limbo, the power of probabilities residing in him to ensure that the correct future happens, or whatever.

This story is suck.

Despite everything, Wanda just feels sorry for Immortus. Sure, he was going to do the same thing to her but it is a truly horrible fate and she is not a jerk anymore because I guess she expelled the racism goo traces.

(Something that Hank mentions too, although more in the general sense that if she's feeling pity for Immortus, she must be on the road to recovery)

Actually, Wanda tries to claim that Immortus was "noble, in his own way."

Oh, Wanda, no. You don't have to big him up. He sucks.

Then, the Time Keepers decide they're tired of looking at the Avengers' dumb faces and just instantly scene transition them back to the compound.

Convenient.

Agatha Harkness claims that Actually, she didn't carry the team. Truly, this was an Avengers victory because they did a really good distracting Immortus by getting their asses soundly beaten by Tempus.

She phrased it nicer than I did but that is the gist.

Hawkeye just instantly passes out as soon as the plot is over. But Hank is left to worry about the dangling subplots of Tigra being tiny and feral and the Human Torch being broken.

Also, hey hey, Living Lightning's first appearance! I remember him fondly from the two things I've ever seen him in! The Great Lakes Avengers Misassembled mini and Avengers No Surrender!

Of course, next week next time, we're back over to the Avengers and the Crossing Line arc. Eh.

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#avengers #west coast avengers #essential avengers #Immortus #Time Keepers #Scarlet Witch #Dr Pym #Hank Pym #Wonder Man #the Wasp #Hawkeye #US Agent #Iron Man #Quicksilver #Tempus #Agatha Harkness #finally it is over

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