#anyways if this was two years ago that would have MASSIVELY triggered me but now im just kind of shaken | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

coffeegnomee · 6 months ago

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Training my brain to learn that caring about something does not mean someone will die and it will all be lost.

Cw - death, OCD, mcyt death, dsmp and lifesteal, triggers

This is, obviously, something super personal. But sharing about it is what scares me, so I’m going to do it anyway and prove to my brain that it’s okay to care.

If you end up reading it, know you just read my heart. I hope it helps you process whatever you’re dealing with <3.

I looked up OCD tonight because my brain constantly cycles through the same thoughts and worries about Lifesteal like Non Stop. Like I know I’m ADHD but this isn’t just a fixation on this server, but like debilitating spirals of thought. And all focused around analyzing if it’s all going to fall apart or not.

They say ocd is a “limbic system impairment that occurs when someone experiences a traumatic physical or emotional event while their chronic stress load is already high.”

And that freaking resonated. They say exposure therapy can rewire the brain so let’s go explore what’s the event that’s keeping me spiraling.

My chronic stress load was extremely high that summer two years ago. And then Technoblade died. The longer it’s been the more I really sit with the fact that that was traumatic.

On top of the stress personally, now my favorite YouTuber, my comfort character on dsmp, the freaking anchor of that server, was just gone. Gone.

Dreamsmp came in a time of some pretty heavy depression. Obviously the pandemic was still occurring so that’s a chronic stress load itself (I found it January 16th 2021, so like, three days before the disc finale, but almost a year into covid) and watching through all the streams I was able to completely escape.

For the first time in months I was laughing. Like deep belly laughs. Full body. Actual joy. The neural rewiring my brain those first months was insane. It was pure serotonin.

I became motivated to work again, having something fun in the background. I looked forward to cherishing the lore, keeping those streams to the side for the evenings when I could really immerse myself into the story.

There’s a two-fold trigger that sends me into a spiral around loosing the thing that makes me happy. Unfortunately at the time, the things causing the chronic stress in my life stemmed from the things that used to bring me fulfillment and joy and purpose. They were being taken away, by my own choice, and from my health (more on that later).

So in the void of having my real-life anchors to bring fulfillment, dreamsmp was the thing keeping this whole body going. Truly a hanging on by a thread moment.

But even then, it’s not just about "loosing the thing that makes me happy" that causes these obsessive thoughts.

It’s the irrational connection that because the lore changed and the dynamic of the server stalled, that THAT therefore somehow that lead to Techno dying. (yes. An irrational and non related thought. I just realized with writing that that I have truly merged both those events so closely that when the first happens, I cannot let go of the idea of the second. I’m sitting here expecting someone to irl die.)

Huh. That’s interesting.

It’s like, I read this from some random instagram post years ago. This woman’s husband died on a sunny day and then years later sunny days fill her with dread as if the weather was signaling that she would come home to the death of a loved on.

That’s what’s going on in my noggin.

Because it’s Quackity’s lore that changed the fabric of the dreamsmp. It didn’t have to, but it did. It came at the perfect storm when everyone was super burnt out and needed to run away from the insanity of both the fans and the haters and the sudden massive fame.

He decided to do pre-recorded movies. On my live-stream smp. The very fabric of lore was changed.

And because of the larger production, it took longer, and the other members of the server seemed to not know where to take their personal lore; everyone was waiting for that damn casino to open. And since all the lore ended up happening in pre-recordings we never again experienced that magic of live stream entertainment and improv and dumb bits. Everything was sanitized. For their own sanity, sure. But at the expense of the survival of the server. (Also Techno wasn’t available because of the chemo, so truly nothing was happening on any end of the server)

That perfect storm, loosing interest in the server and the lore being fundamentally changed, set the stage for the traumatic moment of loosing a member. That's my two-fold trigger.

And his death sealed the deal. I’ve never held it against them for not wanting to continue after. Season 2 was impossible the moment that happened.

My chronic stress had exploded so far that my thyroid was fucked and I’m diagnosed with Hashimoto’s, an autoimmune disease that keeps me fatigued more often than not. Besides that, my other main chronic stress was a realization that the Future I had always expected myself to take, the Plan that I had set out, I was suddenly extremely Not Sure I wanted to do anymore.

But I had confidently told my friends and family for over 8 years that this is what I wanted (all this during college and after. I was already 26 at this time) (yes I’m old) (yes life is still crazy when you’re old) (but you start understanding yourself better). It was in this understanding of myself that I realized my direction needed to change.

Suddenly my whole identity I had built for myself was swept out from under me.

At that. same. dang. time. That same week. That’s when the news broke. Literally broke me to pieces.

And I hadn’t told anyone I was obsessed with Minecraft lore. Like bro. I’m out of college for a few years. Get a life. (But man. My eyes just light up when I think about this method of story telling. It’s just goated)

My mom sort of knew. She didn’t understand but at least I could tell her someone died and she had some sort of connection that I had been following this kid for over a year now.

But no one else. The sorrow and pain of loss is just so much worse when you can’t explain why you cared about someone so much. It’s not like my parent died. Or sibling. It was a kid I had never met in person but I resonated with so much.

And I remember distinctly thinking “It’s not worth not sharing the things you care about with other people”. Burned into my brain that day.

But time heals all wounds. Until something triggers it.

I spent the next year just following Foolish, that ray of sunshine who was involved enough to have become my comfort streamer, but not too involved that it was painful to watch because of the memories.

It was a crazy fun year. Best comfort streamer. But people change, I change, and I missed Minecraft lore. You can only watch so much valorant before it’s just the same game.

Foolish found out he was on QSMP (I think it actually was before, I think he knew about the server before it was announced) and he started looking at Minecraft content and Minecraft builds again. For the first time in over a year. It was such a random day.

But we watched Sandiction and… Rekrap2.

Both of them stole my heart and I went, maybe it’s time to return to mcyt. See what’s been brewing.

And before I knew it I was on a month-long binge of Lifesteal content and just so absolutely lost as to what order everything came out in or what season everything was from. Shoutout them being allergic to click baiting “Lifesteal” or adding season tags to the description. It’s such a mess on Youtube lol.

Soon enough I found Baconnwaffles1. Not 0. 1. Somehow found his second channel first.

The videos caught my eye. I knew they were streams and I was trying to find the vods, but as you know Bacon doesn’t have a vods channel and his streams delete after 14 days.

But then finally the fated video crossed my path: “This is PrinceZam and he just betrayed his teammates”

Oh my goddess what in the world is going on in this server.

I needed to know.

So began the true binge. Found Zam’s vods, watched season 4. And I discovered something amazing.

I have genuinely never resonated more with a character than I resonated with Zam season 4.

Every internal debate of Zam resonated with my own dilemmas. People pleasing and understanding what you value came to a head, and only one could win. But truly your values are the only real option because every moment of people pleasing will rub against your soul like hot coals.

Remember those chronic stressors? The life I didn’t know if I wanted anymore?

As Zam walked between conversations with friends, teammates, and enemies, I recognized similar conversations in my life.

I could describe the situation one way, and the person would agree and give advice. But then I realized I could describe the situation in a different light and then maybe they wouldn’t agree anymore. So I didn’t know what advice to take.

And then chat was so funny. The day before the wormhole they started giving too many opinions, the same opinions they had been giving for weeks, and in a flash I was like, omg he’s going to spiral again guys why are you like this.

And then he was like, OMG chat, YOU’RE the problem! There’s too many of you and I’m trying to make everyone happy.

If I tell you I jumped up, screamed, giggled, and floundered around like a crazy person it wouldn’t even come close to what happened. I was so proud of Zam for realizing his emotions were being swayed by the barest opposition. From that third person point of view, I could so clearly see what was going wrong and I was cheering him on to realizing what he truly wanted.

I did, and still do, see so many of the decision making problems that Zam has, within myself. As a piece of media, and him being a character, it’s the craziest most relatable story I have ever seen. I’ve never resonated with a character more.

Then we reached season 5.

The first season I truly watched as it came out. I had gotten too obsessed with this Minecraft world. I wanted more. I loved these kids and their storytelling.

But it was the first season when people started leaving the server on good terms.

Oh no. This sounds too familiar. People are loosing interest in the server I love. What’s next, a change in the fabric of how lore is created?

Then there was a change in the fabric of how the lore was created.

We saw the new members approach the server with a recording-mindset. Who weaponized the lore against the old server members. Pretending they cared about the yapping but then revealing that in itself was a complete and total lie used to get you into the perfect position to either spoil the whole riddle or shoot you with an arrow canon.

And then. Not. Care. At. All. Zero remorse.

I don’t know why the betrayals by Jumper hurt so badly. But it hurt. A lot. (I was triggered that’s why) My emotional reaction was out of proportion to reality.

It’s not like it wasn’t a Lifesteal move, people had gotten into position to betray in the past, and would continue to do so in the future with Leo and Clown betraying Minute.

But it was that “I have no remorse over the hours we spent as a team, not a single thread of care to you or to the yapping lore of this server”. It’s one thing to be betrayed by an enemy. Quite another to be betrayed by a friend.

So here I began. Triggered by something that wasn’t world ending. Quackity’s take on lore didn’t kill the server. Neither did Jumper’s. It was probably going to be fine.

But like. My brain is not agreeing. So I’m pushing back on it.

Here’s what I’m finding.

This is a fun tidbit - when Mapic said “streams are delayed” when he was in the hospital before the finale I could not convince myself that he didn’t had cancer and wasn’t going to die. Bro. Tell me you’re triggered without telling me you’re triggered. (In case you didn’t see, it was just a concussion)

I’m so hyper aware of everything that could indicate I’m going to loose someone I care about again.

The pattern recognition is going out of control.

And I keep trying to calm my brain down and catalogue all the reasons I know and believe Lifesteal will be perfectly fine for probably a while. Like how they have meetings all the time to discuss what went down on the server. They’re talking all the time to work out interpersonal problems and lore problems so that everyone is happy and feels heard. And they’re watching movies together. Meeting up and strengthening relationships. Changing admins as necessary.

And I say it again.

And again.

Every time something throws the smallest pebble at stability I walk my brain back through all the indicators that everything will be fine.

Jumper:

Jumper loves being on the server. She’s said it. She’s so excited about it. She did have a plan. She didn’t tell us the plan as it went, but she does stream. She’s getting comfortable with the idea of streaming, she’ll learn to trust chat over time. She’ll learn how to loose gracefully on this server at some point. Probably. hopefully. And since I don’t know when that will be I’ll just have to wait until season 6 and see what happens. It’s out of my control. She’s fine. It’ll be fine.

Pentar:

Pentar is fine. He doesn’t understand why chat would tell him he’s the most likely to betray even though every video he betrays. Why is he doing that that’s so weird. But he’s a great teammate and everyone likes having him around. I don’t like how he laughs at Zam, but like I can give him the benefit of the doubt that he just doesn’t take anything seriously and laughs in the face of anything serious. I’ll have to wait and see until next time to see how I feel about what he does on the server. Real life can’t be repeated over and over so just let it go. It’ll be fine.

Minute:

Minute is just so happy to be in Lifesteal. He loves it so much. You can tell by how he speaks every time there’s a group moment. He’s going to be admin next season. He loves this server. He may be overly attached to the Rules and have black and white thinking and he sometimes wields that for his own gain and I hate when he does that can he just have fun and take things less seriously? But I think he’ll get it. He’s competent. And he loves the server. He wouldn’t destroy it even on accident because someone would call him out before that happens. It’s going to be fine.

Ash:

Ash can be mean and also not care about the good that our side is doing and just wave them away saying they’re just evil. He does’t get it. But also he’s quite the actor. He puts on a lore face when he logs on, you can see it in season 4 with the wormhole. You can see it when he logs on for the justice league returns and he’s so committed to being good and fighting evil and as Zam is killing Mid in the background and he’s all shocked as if he was not the one who goaded Zam into killing her moments before. It’s a character. Even when it feels like it shouldn’t be. He does take random events in stride, pulling up the meditation guidance video when they all got killed. He’s stressed out by it, but also takes it with some levity. He’ll be fine. He just chose a questionable character to act this season and didn’t know how to balance his position as admin separate from his need to win. But he’ll be fine.

Can you see how this is exhausting? This is my brain on the daily.

Every day I find myself working through each person one after another as something small comes up to threaten the balance, or reinforce the good.

This is when I noticed this wasn’t simple excitement about the lore, thinking and guessing about what might happen. It was the same thoughts over and over and over. And I couldn’t stop a line of thought until I mentioned all the things. That’s what made me look up ocd.

But back to it, I’m actually so much more okay with Ash because it’s been a couple seasons with him. I’m starting to see his tells. So I can just let the rough parts slide away.

And that’s really what I just have to accept. That I can’t self soothe my way into being okay. Resisting acknowledging what I’m afraid of is just making me spiral more.

We’ve seen people choose to leave after stressful seasons. We know some people become aware that they aren’t cut out for Lifesteal. Or they just don’t want to be. Some of these members might decide that. And Lifesteal has continued despite members leaving.

OMg can I please stop cataloging how it will be fine?

I have to sit with the reality and realize nothing bad DID happen, NOT that nothing bad MIGHT happen.

(This is unironically so counterintuitive to my brain. What do you mean I have to just accept that nothing bad happened, what if something bad does happen!) (But that’s what anxiety looks like. That’s not a good)

How do you convince yourself that you can’t predict the future? Asking for a friend.

I think it goes back to caring. I don’t think I’m allowed to care about any of this. That it’s silly, or dumb, or immature.

It was, in fact, in caring itself that the loss of Techno was so painful.

So I don’t allow myself to care. To get too invested. Any time I see that I’m caring I push up on the walls of my trenches and shove that shit out. Only analytical thoughts in here. Measurable, quote-filled analyses.

But caring does not therefore mean there will be a loss.

So. Okay. Pivot. What am I really afraid of?

I’m afraid the server will end. That something will make Zam give up and leave.

Wow. I thought that was going to be a long ass paragraph but it really is just that. I know I’ll stop watching lifesteal if Zam is gone. Unless someone new comes in that has his same spark and dedication. Unlikely.

So that threat is the worst.

And I’ve seen his interest wax and wane. I know he can disappear for a month.

But I also know he can come back. And he’s been a lot more mature and healthy and confident in being the streamer of Lifesteal. In how much he loves the server.

Which is where pb&j being such a threat to the fabric of how lore is done is so scary, because that changes Zam’s care. But then again. It really didn’t. He just pivots.

One of the most healing things has been watching the old members leave and continue to make content. And seeing how they choose to make their exit. They honored the server and the time they were there, in Rek’s case uplifting Lifesteal.net, in Parrot’s in completely reediting all his footage into a cohesive story.

And then they still make content together. All the members make content with each other outside of Lifesteal. (And those that left the internet forever, that was okay too)

So that’s nice. Some bad things came to pass, and they've shown their response to it. Also Zam taking a break didn’t change how the lore was created, so that wouldn’t be a trigger.

The trigger from that fear would be if he did leave, my brain would go into high gear looking for who was going to die. And I would have a new post to write lol.

The trigger that is still tilting me is that pb&j changed how the lore was made, and my brain went *danger* *danger* This is something that happened last time and you know how that turned out! Start looking for who is going to die!

And it stopped me from seeing how this is not the same situation. The pattern for a death that I think I’m seeing, is not a pattern.

And sitting with how nothing DID go wrong, that fear did not come to pass, is exposure therapy.

Because nothing went catastrophically wrong with the season 5 finale. I just keep closing my eyes, sitting in the problematic lore, and not accepting what actually happened at the end of the season, and freaking out that disaster is coming.

So what happened?

Season 5, you tried to kill my server.

But The server resisted. (Hahahah undertale reference!)

Clown came back. Ro came back. Branzy betrayed everyone for Clown. Bacon and Zam sat in vc the entire finale fight. Mapicc fought until he couldn’t.

Spepticle gave his account then fought for it back. Pangi gave his account. Spoke gave his account. Red did the blessings/curses as Zam wanted. 4C said he was glad to give Minute the presidency because he knew Minute wanted peace and he knew peace was not an option in Lifesteal. Actually the quietest of goats. Didn’t realize he thought that deeply about the server.

And it meant so much that Clownpierce, who hasn’t been meaningfully involved since the season 3 finale, came back and fought for his server. He made Lifesteal season 2. It’s always been his domain and he fought for its soul.

That’s the season 5 finale.

The Players fought for Lifesteal. The server resisted destruction.

This chapter is closed. This season got it’s ending. And it’s “not like last time” like my brain keeps thinking.

The season might have ended with a lot of unknowns for how it will affect season 6. Will these old members still care? Will pb&j be a menace still?

But what happened was a moment where everyone came together to care about the server. And that means the anxiety was unfounded. If something happens like this again, I have an example where everything didn’t fall apart to counter my fear that it will.

See you around!

If you actually read to the end you’re amazing. Hopefully this is something you can do in your life to help understand what is the cause of your pain and anxiety. I wasn’t going to post it initially, but working it out as a post I could theoretically show to other people helped make it way more real than trying to work it out in my head, talking to myself. I had to write it in such a way that someone else would understand. Even if I didn’t post it.

I’ll probably have many more days of writing when I notice a new trigger. Exposure therapy isn’t a one and done. (I probably won’t post any of those.)

But my body feels so much more relaxed now. Something has shifted in my head as a result of writing this all down.

Good luck!

#lifesteal smp #dream smp #technoblade #OCD #mental health

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guppygiggles · 8 months ago

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Hey friend!

Maybe this has been asked before, but was Avery inspired by anyone? ( ·ิϖ·ิ)

I don't think anyone has ever asked me this on this blog! Honestly, I've tried many times to nail down exactly what inspired Avery, but... I never can, not completely.

This is going to get long, I'm sorry.

I turned 30 last year. It wasn't in a "midlife crisis" or depressive kind of way, but I started thinking a lot about how I wanted the rest of my life to go, and what I wanted out of life that I'd never had a chance to have. I decided that there were two things I really yearned to do -- make art, and make friends. I figured a good place to start dipping my toes in would be Tumblr, since I'd used it in the past and I knew there would be a lot of art here to inspire me. And I was inspired... massively. Especially after I started actually drawing, myself. I started getting more ideas at once than I'd ever had in my life, and it triggered a bout of insomnia I am still dealing with now, almost six months later.

The first time I can remember thinking about Avery was during one such sleepless night, desperately trying to coax myself to sleep. Laying in the dark, I'd close my eyes and imagine leaving my body, floating above my apartment complex. I'd wander around like a ghost, exploring places I'd seen, but which are normally inaccessible... private roads, fenced estates, etc. I'd imagine sitting on the edge of a skyscraper, watching the city move beneath me, imagining what people were doing, why they were up so late, etc.

I imagined this many nights... It became a pet fantasy. When I was a kid, I read a book called Billy the Bird by Dick King-Smith, maybe that's where I got the idea... I don't know. Along with the insomnia were vicious bouts of nostalgia, too, so... It's possible.

But, anyway... I'd get lonely.

I wanted someone to talk to, so I imagined someone sitting with me. Someone who could only come out at night, for fear of being seen. Someone for whom sitting on the edge of a skyscraper was no concern, and who could catch me if I fell. I imagined he was soft, gentle... a good listener, maybe even a bit shy. I imagined he was an intellectual, capable of being quite serious, but never dour. He was quick with a smile, and it was easy to make him laugh.

In some respects, I suppose, he was inspired by a friend of mine, who died many years ago. In most ways, he wasn't like Avery at all -- he was extremely blue-collar, the exact opposite of an intellectual, and very outgoing. He was not refined in any way, and could even be quite reckless, at times. But, he had a unique, gentle, innocent sort of kindness that I've found to be exceedingly rare. To know him was to love him, really; he was a hard worker and a fierce friend, someone who wanted nothing more than to love and be loved. My relationship with him and the way his passing affected me touches everything I make and everything I do, intentional or not.

When I was building Avery's character, I was very fascinated by object heads at the time (particularly Prince Robot from Saga), and I was also seeing a lot art for "doctor/scientist" type characters. Despite never playing the game, I liked TF2 fanart, especially of Medic. I thought about other characters I'd fixated on, too, and what exactly I liked about them... Milo Thatch from Atlantis, Data from Star Trek, John from Homestuck, Sans from Undertale, Stanley and the Narrator from The Stanley Parable, Pokemon professors both Oak and Elm, Nightcrawler from X-Men, Wilson from House, Dr. Bashir from DS9... The list goes on, really.

I know this is kind of a non-answer, and I'm sorry about that. It isn't really a clear answer for me, either. All I can really say for sure is this: Avery is the embodiment of everyone and everything I've ever loved, as well as the reflection of my own self-love. Relatively speaking, we just met, but I feel like he's been here the whole time. I've made so many wonderful friends because of him, too! Can't say what the exact moment was, only that now that he's here, I can't imagine life without him. 💙

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gumnut-logic · 1 year ago

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Today is my five year fandomversary!

Today five years ago I fell into this fandom and never looked back. I published my first Thunderbirds fic, which I will reblog again just for traditions sake.

1.3 million words/260+ fics later...let's just say I've had a lot of fun :D

Usually on this day I offer to write for some one word challenges and while I'll happily accept them, I honestly don't think my muse is up to playing with them at the moment. It's having a rest so hopefully at some point I can start writing again. But ask away if you like, I can always store them for later :D

Anyways, thank you to Thunderfam for all the fun I've had over the last five years and for motivating me to write those thousands and thousands of words...there will be more, I have no doubt :D

Nutty

::massive group hug::

Title: No-one is losing their Dad today Author: Gumnut Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015 Rating: Teen Summary: Exactly how not to do it. Word count: 5,145 Spoilers & warnings: Thunderbirds Are Go S1 Ep1 & 2, in fact if you haven’t seen these two episodes, this isn’t going to make much sense. Interwoven episode tag. Author's note: This fic is affected by two things. Firstly, it is the first complete fic I’ve written in nearly ten years, so my writing muscles are very much rusty. Secondly, brand new fandom! I’ve only been here for a matter of weeks and I’m so in love with the Tracy boys, it has become an addiction. It has been a long time since a fandom grabbed me like this, and I’m having sooo much fun! This fic is very intertwined with the first two episodes of the first season – that first scene (I love it!), but I felt it had some ramifications, because ouch! So this is possibly happening in the background of the episode. Also, total Virgil fan :D And anyone who knows me from other fandoms, knows what happens to my favourite characters :D Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother. Scenes parroted from the episodes are definitely not mine.

His hand missed.

The roaring wind caught the beleaguered hot air balloon, lifting it up, tossing it sideways, and ripping its tethers from the basket. The basket hung suspended a moment, then flipped, throwing its last passenger into freefall.

His yell was taken by the wind.

“Dad!” The boy beside him struggled and Virgil grabbed him, yanking him back to the safety of his ship’s overhead hatch. Calculations raced through his head. Possibilities.

He stabbed his commlink, yelling over the wind, “Thunderbird Five, I need you now!”

There would be only moments. Lowering the hatch, he threw himself at the controls. The kid was pleading for him to save his father.

“No-one is losing their Dad today!” No-one. John was in his ear. “John, what’s my time window?”

The answer was maybe enough.

He shouted over his shoulder at the kid. “Strap in!” And threw TB2 into a dive. He rode gravity until it wasn’t enough and kicked in the rear thrusters, sending them screaming past the falling man. Virgil brought her to pacing drop beneath him, the VTOL gear halting their descent, but not their fall.

The seconds counted down in his head.

Darting back into the centre of the cockpit, he secured his tether, and with an almighty shove, flung back the overhead hatch.

The ship’s plummet tore him from her confines and within a second he was falling beside the screaming man.

This time, his hand didn’t miss.

“I’ve got you!”

Another second ticked by.

He remotely triggered the VTOL, slowing her fall.

Damn, this was going to hurt.

He wrapped himself around the struggling man, protecting him as much as he possibly could, as the hatch rushed up to meet them.

Then there was Thunderbird, metal and pain. He grunted and the man fell off him. He vaguely heard the VTOL ratchet up into a hover. John was yelling in his ear.

He squeezed his eyes shut a moment, forcing away the stars, before rolling over onto his knees. Oh god, there was going to be hell to pay for this one. He could feel the bruises forming.

But now was not the time. He struggled to his feet, pleased to see the father and his kid clinging to each other. Totally worth those bruises.

A somewhat staggering step back to his seat, and he was answering John’s increasingly urgent calls. “This is Thunderbird Two, mission complete.”

There was a relieved sigh at the other end of the line. “Good job, Virgil.”

He signed off and took a moment to sigh himself, before plotting his course to the nearest hospital. The son seemed fine, but the father had taken that fall with him, and it wouldn’t hurt for both of them to get checked out.

He rolled his right shoulder…ow…probably wouldn’t hurt to get himself checked out either. At home. With a hot shower. And coffee. What was it with balloonists and the crack of dawn anyway?

-o-o-o-

It was afternoon before he made it home. He managed the shower but missed the coffee due to another trip down his chute to save some scientists from a seaquake.

He forgot his shoulder until he couldn’t target their underwater habitat with his grapple guns. Damn arm trembled when he put pressure on it, throwing off his aim.

Scott succeeded in latching on first try with the grapple gun in Thunderbird One, even though he knew the scout ship wouldn’t have the grunt to hold the habitat by itself. The thought of TB1 disappearing below the waves was enough motivation for Virgil to grit his teeth and make his body behave.

The day was saved yet again. This time it was three scientists he dropped off at the nearest hospital. And then home.

And then the Hood.

Seaquakes. An argument with the GDF. An argument with his brothers. There was coffee this time, but once again he was flying down his chute. As he hit the bars to swing himself into his ship, his shoulder screamed in protest and he stumbled as he landed, but there was no time. He shoved the overhead hatch closed.

This time there was an entire city to save. A solar collector had fallen out of alignment and in just the right position to fry downtown Taipei. Scott, of course, beat him there and was in the thick of things before Virgil could even assess the situation.

Grab the dish and move it. Once again, he found himself struggling, this time with the magnetic claw. He grasped the dish perfectly, but the moment he fired up the VTOL to lift the dish, his arm spasmed, jolting the yoke. He lifted up his hand and watched it tremble. What the hell?

He didn’t have time for this!

Unfortunately, the dish was still attached to its foundations and he was unable to move it. Then Scott was climbing to free it and Virgil’s priority had switched to rescuing the crew.

Slaving TB2 to autopilot, he dashed into the hold to grab his Jaws of Life exoskeleton. He only hesitated momentarily, steeling himself as the metal wrapped around him. He expected complaint from his arm, but none came. He blinked and flexed the claw. A little tingling, a twinge or two. Okay. And he was off and running.

Everything went perfectly well until he had to grab and hold onto the edge of the personnel carrier to save his own life.

-o-o-o-

Kuan-yu knew the laws of physics. He was an engineer, it was his business. The force required to crumple the door to the collector station was considerable, so there was no surprise when the man in blue and green and sporting metal arms was easily able to lift the beam that had fallen on Teller. The logo on his helmet flashed in the morning light.

International Rescue!

The IR man hurried the three of them out of the crumbling building. They stumbled over rubble, clambering as fast as they could, desperate to get away.

And then the sky was falling. The huge dish had come off its supports and was roaring, screaming, down towards them.

Kuan-yu opened his mouth to yell but was suddenly swept from his feet. His hands automatically wrapped around the harness that lowered over his head, and he was flying, the dish groaning down the mountain below him.

A blue man was riding the edge of it like a surfboard.

There was a muffled yell behind him. He twisted in his seat, but he could see little. Then a booted foot swung into view. There was another yell. And another. His rescuer must be hanging onto the edge of the carrier. Kuan-yu immediately began looking for a way to help him, but the harness was secured and he could not raise it.

His glance flickered down to the settling dish, looking for the other blue man, but he was gone. A moment later his world slipped into shadow and he looked up to see the massive green bulk of the world-famous Thunderbird Two.

There were expressions of awe, but Kuan-yu was overloaded and out of words.

The ship swallowed them up.

-o-o-o-

There was a moment of silence when the carrier came to a halt, suspended just above the deck of the ship. The lighting was dim after the brilliance of the morning sun, and although the engines of the craft were dominant, they lacked the chaos of the moments before. All he could hear was the panicked breathing of his two workmates.

A click and the harness holding him to the carrier disengaged. Hesitantly Kuan-yu pushed it over his head and slid out of the seat. His shoes touched the metal of the decking and the bass roar of the ship’s engines echoed up through the soles of his feet.

He took a few steps around the end of the carrier, his eyes seeking out the blue and green man, not entirely sure he had made it and not sure he wanted to see if he hadn’t.

The IR man was there. On his knees, head down, metal arms awkwardly splayed out to the side. A hologram of Thunderbird Two hovered above one arm. Suddenly his tense shoulders dropped and Kuan-yu could hear a muffled expletive and then something about surfing.

“Are you okay?” He couldn’t help himself.

The man’s head shot up and piercing brown eyes fixed on him. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?”

I’m not the one still on the floor. He thought but didn’t say. Teller and Jane had come around the other end of the carrier and both were staring at the IR man.

The man on the floor seemed to realise it anyway and blinked before clambering to his feet with a grunt and whirring of gears. He fiddled with the hologram on his wrist, the ghost of the rear thrusters flaring for a moment, the ship’s engines changed thrum and they all staggered slightly as it moved around them. Apparently finished with the hologram, he walked awkwardly over to the other side of the bay and backed himself up. There was a thunk, and the exoskeleton separated itself from him. The reinforcements unfastened from his boots and hips and lastly, he slid his arms from the claws. There was a hiss as his right arm came free, he wavered, and Kuan-yu was moving before the IR man pitched forward in an attempt to plant his face into the deck of his own ship.

It was awkward, but he caught him. There was a gasp of pain when his hand touched his right shoulder, so Kuan-yu struggled to lower the much larger man to the floor using mostly his left side. Fortunately, he was still wearing his helmet, so the soft clunk when he connected with the floor should have been less painful than without.

The eyes under that helmet slid closed.

“No! No, sir. You can not sleep! Stay awake!” He prodded the man gently and his eyelids flickered. Kuan-yu felt around the base of the helmet, looking for a release. The man needed air and Kuan-yu needed to assess him for injury. His fingertips fumbled across a latch and there was a soft hiss as the helmet came loose. He gently lifted the protection off the man’s head to reveal his pale face and mess of thick dark hair.

“Scott…” The word was faint.

“Jane, go and see who is flying this ship and see if you can get help.” He glanced up at his other workmate. “Teller, sit down before you fall down.”

The technician wobbled himself back onto the carrier.

With those two occupied, Kuan-yu turned his full attention to the almost unconscious man beside him. “Sir, can you hear me?”

His eyelids fluttered. He was obviously fighting to stay conscious.

“Can you hear me, sir?”

“Scott?” His eyelids fluttered again.

Kuan-yu felt gently around his scalp, checking for a head injury. It wasn’t long before he found one either. There was a considerable lump towards the back of the right side of the man’s head. Fortunately, there was no bleeding.

There was also the concern for the man’s arm. His uniform unzipped at the front, so Kuan-yu gently pulled it down just far enough to peel back his collar slightly. He drew in a sharp breath at the sight of black bruising. This wasn’t a new injury, it was at least twenty-four hours old. What the hell was this man doing saving lives in this condition?

Jane burst back into the compartment. “There is no-one flying this plane!”

“What?!” Both he and Teller spoke at once.

“There is no-one in the cockpit!”

Teller and Jane started talking over one another. He looked down at the IR man again. Was he really on his own? In his condition? How the hell was this plane still in the sky?

No, there had been another blue man. His heartrate picked up. No, no, this wasn’t the time to panic. He took a breath. “Both of you – shut up!”

There was a sudden silence. The engines thrummed through the ship. Teller and Jane stared at him.

Beneath his hand, the IR man moved. “I have to…” Those eyes were fully open once again and narrowing in on him.

“Sir, sit still. You collapsed and must remain calm.”

The eyes blinked at him. “Who are you?” There was authority in that suddenly deep voice.

“Lin Kuan-yu, Senior Engineer at the Taipei Solar Plant. You saved my life and the lives of my two colleagues, not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Oh.” The man inhaled, held the breath a moment, before releasing it between his teeth. “Okay. Sorry about that.” And despite Kuan-yu’s resistance, the man sat up fully. He wavered a moment and Kuan-yu prepared to catch him again, but he rolled to his feet, stumbling, but standing firm. His eyes darted across the three of them. “Are any of you in need of medical assistance?”

Jane and Teller both answered no. Kuan-yu suspected Teller did in any case and would be checking him over once he had the IR man seen to. Brown eyes looked at him in question. “No, I don’t, but you do.”

“Let me worry about that.”

“But who is flying this plane?” Jane’s voice had an edge of hysteria to it.

The man swallowed. “Let me worry about that too.” He stepped back a moment as if to steady himself. “I’m sorry…”

And with that he staggered somewhat through the still open door and latched it shut behind him.

-o-o-o-

Virgil clung to the wall. The world refused to stop spinning. What the hell? The pain in his head. His shoulder was screaming at him.

He wasn’t fit to fly.

He had three rescued persons on board. And he couldn’t fly. He stepped away from the wall and staggered to the pilot’s seat. He could barely stand up.

Sliding in he scanned the controls. Where were they going?

A sudden image of Scott riding the dish down the mountain…

He slammed the transmission console. “Scott!”

“Virgil!” There was concern in his brother’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

“You okay?” His console flickered in and out of focus for a moment.

“Fine. You?”

He swallowed. There was bile in his throat. “Not good.”

There was a silence on the other end of the line, before Scott’s controlled voice returned. “Can you fly?”

The world was spinning again.

Then it flickered as Scott’s hologram appeared on the dash. “Oh, god, Virgil.”

“I’m sorr..y.” And the whole world tipped sideways.

-o-o-o-

Scott reached out to catch the hologram of his brother as it slipped sideways and out of view. His fingers caught nothing.

“John!”

His younger brother’s hologram flickered on beside the empty shell of TB2’s cabin. “Thunderbird One?

“Virgil’s in trouble. He may have lost consciousness. Can you remote pilot Thunderbird Two?”

John’s eyes widened before darting to his controls. He frowned and muttered something under his breath. “One moment.”

Scott held his breath.

There was another muttered word, then John’s face relaxed. “Confirmed, Thunderbird One. Thunderbird Two is now under remote pilot.” John looked up at him. “But there are still three rescued persons aboard.”

“What is Virgil’s status?”

John could seem cold to some people, but Scott knew he was anything but. “Rapid pulse, low blood pressure…what the hell happened?”

“I don’t know. But we will find out. Where are the three engineers?”

“In the pod bay. They are mobile.” John frowned. “One is banging on the door to the cabin.”

“What is Gordon’s status?”

“Mission complete and heading home.”

“Advise him of our situation. Tell him to beach his ‘Bird as soon as possible. Bring Thunderbird Two to a hover. I’m going to board her.” John’s acknowledgement was brief.

Both Thunderbirds were out over the Philippine Sea, TB1 a little ahead of her sister. Scott accelerated up and flipped back over his position to settle above his brother’s green behemoth.

He’d already fried one jetpack today, but he’d learnt a long time ago to always pack a spare or three, so moments later he was landing beside TB2’s overhead hatch. “Thunderbird Five, please release the hatch.”

A gentle shove and he had the hatch open just enough to slide in. He slipped it closed behind him.

The cabin was eerily quiet despite the VTOL burning brightly outside. “Virgil?”

He found him half slumped off his chair, almost beneath the console. “Virgil!” Scott hit the seat controls, releasing it and moving it backwards slowly.

Virgil began to slip boneless to the floor. “I’ve got you.” He grabbed his brother under the arms and as gently as possible, halted his fall. A little manoeuvring had him on his back beside his pilot seat. “Virgil!”

“Sc-t?”

“What happened?”

“S-rry.”

“For what?”

Any answer Virgil might have given him was lost in a sudden banging on the cockpit door. “Hey, you need help. Let me help!”

Virgil’s eyes slipped closed and didn’t open again.

“Virgil!” He touched the man’s cheek. His skin was cold. “Virgil!” No response.

What the hell had happened?

Professionalism kicked in. The patient was breathing shallow but rapidly, heart rate up. “John, give me his vitals.” His brother’s hologram appeared beside him and rattled off numbers. Scott peeled back an eyelid, then the other one. He frowned, a possible concussion?

“Scott, he has all the symptoms of hypovolemic shock.”

“He’s bleeding?!” His hands skimmed over his brother’s uniform. He couldn’t see anything obvious. The zip of his uniform was pulled away slightly from his collar. Scott pulled it down quickly, revealing pale skin and dark chest hair.

And a massive spreading red and black bruise radiating out from the man’s right shoulder.

“Aww, hell.”

“Damn it, sir, you need help!” There was another thunk from the other side of the cockpit door.

Scott’s eyes darted momentarily between his brother and the door, calculating. “John, we’re going to Darwin. Alert the hospital. You plot and initialise, take One, I’ll take Two once I have Virgil secured. Tell Gordon to go home and grab Tracey One to meet us there.” A breath. “Mission status?”

“Seaquake generators have been nullified. The source of the transmissions has been located – in the middle of Northern Australia, approximately one hundred kilometres north west of Tennant Creek in the Northern Territory. Kayo is on her way.” His brother’s hologram blinked out.

Scott swore, torn.

No time.

Fingers briefly touching his brother’s cheek, he stood up and strode over to the cockpit door.

-o-o-o-

Kuan-yu nearly fell through the door as it was suddenly shoved open. A man in IR blue caught him.

This one was taller. “Where is he? He needs help.” Kuan-yu shoved past the man into the cockpit only to find his saviour on the floor out cold.

The other man eyed him as if to assess his intentions before darting through the cockpit door. He returned a second later with a collapsible hover stretcher and first aid kit. The IR man stabilised his colleague’s spine. “Help me get him onto the stretcher.”

The two men grunted as they lifted the bigger man. “A few less pancakes, Virg.” It was muttered under the man’s breath and Kuan-yu wasn’t sure he had actually heard it.

There was the snap of fittings and the hardware attached to the prone man started to come away. The IR man lifted off the bulky protuberance over the man’s left shoulder, undid the belt, the toolkit came off, and the green sash unbuckled, exposing more of the blue uniform beneath.

“Thunderbird Five, you have control. Commence flight plan.”

There was no acknowledgement, but suddenly the plane shuddered, the engine roar shifting from around them to the back of the vehicle once again. Kuan-yu staggered a step as the ship suddenly changed direction and accelerated. Much faster than it had before.

The IR man didn’t flinch, his hand on his compatriot, keeping him still. Once the flight had stabilised, he hurried him from the room.

Kuan-yu followed.

“Where are we going?”

“Darwin.”

“Australia?”

“Yes, we need the hospital there.” He slammed open another door to reveal what was obviously the medical bay. Depositing the stretcher on the examination table in the middle of the room, he secured it. Medical alarms filled the air.

“Damn it, Virgil.”

Checking the patient again, the IR man grabbed a laser cutter and started tearing off the man’s uniform. Kuan-yu quickly moved to the other side to help. He tugged at the man’s left glove, the tough material giving way as velcro released the padding. He found the fastener for the hologram display and pulled it away, depositing it quickly on a nearby shelf. The man’s fingers were a road map of calluses. He struggled to pull off the glove. How on Earth did the man put these on in the first place? There was a brief flash of light and the IR man flickered the laser cutter at the crucial point and the glove came apart, falling off in Kuan-yu’s hands.

The laser cutter had certainly done its job. Most of the patient’s torso was now exposed revealing the extent of the massive bruise down the man’s right arm and chest wall.

The IR man was muttering under his breath as he cut the last of the uniform off the patient’s left arm. Discarding the laser cutter, he grabbed an IV and set up a fluid transfusion. “He’s bleeding internally.”

“No kidding.” Kuan-yu couldn’t keep his eyes off that massive, swollen bruise.

A blanket was draped over the prone man and an oxygen mask placed over his face. Most of the alarms quietened. A hand brushed the patient’s forehead, fingers gently moving through his dark hair.

And Kuan-yu found himself pinned by a pair of startling blue eyes.

“What happened?” There wasn’t any accusation in the tone, but the man’s stance was one of a lion over its cub.

Kuan-yu held up his hands. “I don’t know! He saved us and collapsed. I tried to help him, but he refused.”

The man’s shoulders dropped a little and whispered, “Typical.”

“He does this regularly?”

The eyes snapped to him again. “What is the status of your colleagues? Are any of you in need of medical assistance?”

Again with the hands up. “No, we are fine. Teller has some bruising, but he’s okay. They’re both down with the carrier that hauled us in.”

The man released another breath. “Do you have any medical training?” His hand once again touched the patient’s head, fingers in his hair as he cupped his crown lightly.

“Basic first aid. I’m the designated first aider on site at the Solar Plant.” He took a breath and held out his hand. “I’m Kuan-yu.”

The tall man reached over and took his hand, clasping it only briefly. “Thank you.” Another glance at the patient. “Can you stay with him? We are on approach to Darwin.”

“Sure.”

Yet another glance at the prone man. “Thanks.” And he was out the door.

-o-o-o-

For Scott, the next half an hour was one of the worst in his life.

The moment he set foot back in the cockpit, John was in his ear agitated that he had lost contact with Kayo.

Kayo who was in the middle of the Australian desert on her own.

And he couldn’t do a damn thing.

“Colonel Casey and the GDF are with her.”

“And how useful have the GDF been in the past? They mean well, but ineffective, John, ineffective! Why the hell do you think International Rescue exists in the first place? Because they can’t do their damned jobs!”

TB2 trembled under his fingertips as he took control of the ‘Bird’s descent. “Tell Brains that he needs to finish her ‘Bird. This has gone on too long. She needs her own wings.”

“Scott-“

“Do we have clearance to land?”

John spouted off landing conditions. “Helipad’s to the north. Ambulance attending. They have the patient’s details. I have Thunderbird One.” A shadow passed briefly over the windows as Thunderbird One overtook them and disappeared off into the distance. Darwin appeared on the horizon, the brief spark of civilisation in the subtropical swamp, stark against the green and blue of the Timor Sea.

He came in hard.

The air screamed around him as Thunderbird Two shot into the hospital’s air space, her VTOL engines roaring as he applied braking thrust over the helipad. Her mass always fooled him. She was slower, but more powerful than TB1. Pure grunt force.

The ship lowered, her landing struts deployed, and they were down.

He secured the console and was out of the pilot’s seat before the VTOL jets had fully retracted. Through a couple of doors and once again he was listening to medical alarms.

“His blood pressure is still dropping.” The short Taiwanese man was hovering around his brother, obviously at a loss of what to do, but wanting to do something nonetheless.

Scott didn’t answer. He hurriedly detached the hover stretcher from the table and activated its jets. Making sure the IV was secure and his brother strapped in, he put the stretcher in motion towards the cockpit. On the periphery of his vision, Kuan-yu followed.

Moments later, he was breathing in the hot moist air of the Australian northern country as the cockpit hatch lowered them to the helipad. There were doctors, there were nurses, there were numbers being called back and forth. His brother was whisked away.

A dark-haired nurse was asking him questions.

He had responsibilities.

Turning back into the ship’s shadow, he almost tripped over Kuan-yu. Recovering quickly, he motioned the shorter man towards the nurse. “Get yourself checked out.”

He leapt back into his brother’s ‘Bird.

-o-o-o-

Three days.

Three goddamned awful days.

Kayo was safe. Scott picked her up in Thunderbird One himself. He was the closest. The remains of the Hood’s hideout were secured by the GDF for further investigation. The shouting match he had with Colonel Casey over that likely didn’t help his case, but she had been a friend of the family for a long time, she knew the reasons behind his anger. She would forgive him. He’d apologise later.

Three days.

Gordon flew in with Tracey One, Alan beside him.

John hovered. Literally. His hologram appearing in various places, not all fully authorised, as he monitored Virgil’s condition.

Three days.

With John’s help they worked out what had happened. John, after all, had been complicit in the cause of the injury. There had been words.

Delayed concussion and a chipped humerus. A chipped bone which could have been a minor injury if it had been attended promptly. But no, it had been ignored, and the bone chip had eventually nicked a blood vessel. The bleed had been a slow one, but it had the time it needed to do damage. There had been surgery. Now there were questions of whether his brother might lose the use of his arm, even the arm itself.

Three days.

Scott found the tether Virgil had used in the rescue of the two ballooners. A good twenty metres of reinforced nylon cord. Twenty metres. A fall of twenty metres could kill a man.

It nearly had.

He dropped his head to the bed. Why?

He knew why.

Damnit, Virgil!

His brother’s left arm was draped with tubing, feeding his starved body with the fluids and nutrients it so desperately needed. Scott stared at fingers. His brother had large hands, callused and worn with hard work, yet still nimble with an instrument or paintbrush. He reached out and brushed his own fingertips against the pale skin.

“Scott?” It was barely a whisper, but when he looked up a pair of blurry brown eyes peered back at him.

Scott felt his cheek muscles drag his mouth into an almost smile. “Hey, Virg.” Equally as quiet.

The brown eyes darted around a moment, a frown creasing between them. “What?”

“Hospital. Darwin. Thunderbird Two is safe and secure.” She was sitting right next to her sister under heavy guard at the local GDF airfield. He swallowed. “There was a situation.”

Virgil’s fingers brushed against his. Scott wrapped both hands around his brother’s single hand.

He knew why Virgil did it. He knew the reasoning, the lack of alternative. Those two ballooners would never know exactly how lucky they had been and what had been risked. His fingers tightened convulsively.

“Scott.” His brother’s eyes were clearing, his voice that bit stronger. “I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

-o-o-o-

Six weeks later and it was hard to tell if any of it had happened.

The bandages were off and Virgil had recovered most of the movement in his arm. There was still work to be done and he was still grounded, but the outcome was looking more positive by the day.

John had been dragged back to Earth and there had been some honest discussions, some yelling, of course, but mostly sane discussion. New strategies on how to snatch a free-falling victim out of the sky – it did happen often enough, so they really should be prepared, especially since Virgil had so kindly shown them all exactly how not to do it.

The reiteration on reporting all injuries on occurrence was getting a little repetitive however. Virgil, of course, claimed he didn’t know it had been that bad. And besides, exactly when had he had the time to do anything that day – he hadn’t even managed a decent meal in the entire twenty-four hours!

Scott had backed down at that. He knew he shared the guilt with his two brothers. Nobody had reported anything, but then he had them working a twenty-four hour stretch without a decent break.

Brain’s announcement that Kayo’s ‘Bird was finally finished was a welcome distraction. And Grandma’s threat of a homecooked meal had the effect she had no doubt planned as they all ran for cover.

Scott found Virgil in Thunderbird Two.

Swearing.

And surrounded by discarded food wrappers.

“I’m going to kill him.”

Scott raised his hands placatingly. “Now, Virgil, he said he was going to clean it up before he handed her back to you.”

Virgil raised his fist full of wrappers, knuckles white. “I’m going to kill him!”

Staring at his angry brother, Scott couldn’t help but smile. The white knuckled fist belonged to his right hand. It took a moment for the bigger man to connect the dots, his eyes dancing back and forth between Scott and his curled fist, but when he did, the anger bled away to be replaced by an ironic smile.

Scott wrapped his arm around his brother’s shoulders. “See, there is wisdom in Gordon…somewhere.”

That brought out a much-missed Virgil chuckle. Scott ruffled his hair, before darting out of the retaliation zone.

But he wasn’t fast enough and Virgil lunged to grab him.

His hand didn’t miss.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #virgil tracy #scott tracy #nuttys fandomversary #nuttyfic reblog

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definitelydissociative · 1 month ago

Text

Being in college has been a very strange experience for us so far--and I use "us" here because it's not just the school parts who are having a strange time. I'm absolutely not a school part, previous to returning from dormancy two years ago, I was only ever here to soak up the night time abuse. Now, somehow, I'm sitting here on a day off (it's reading week, thank god) and I'm typing this post to avoid doing homework. I somehow ended up roped into this whole mess, despite having been very, very vocally against attempting school again. I don't know how I feel about it now.

Initially, it seemed like it was all going to be one single part who handled our courses during the day and dealt with homework. Callie (the main school part) did it all on their own for the first few weeks, but I think they reached a point where she had a massive stress induced meltdown and has refused to touch homework since. Now it's just Callie who goes on campus, but there's a whole bunch of us who are contributing academically and in terms of support. There's a part who does all of our timed touch typing and typing drills. Phoenix gets us all ready to go in the morning. Luca is, apparently, the "bus guy" because nobody else can handle the stress of taking public transit here after being sexually harassed literally the first day we took the bus. I don't doubt there's more that I'm not aware of yet. Whoever is around contributes to homework, usually myself (Adam) or Jack. I'm working on a project for our graphic design-esque class, which is a brochure that's due tomorrow afternoon. Over the last week, I think it's passed between at least three of us, maybe four. It's incredibly strange to open up Canva and realize I have zero memory of what had been done by another part.

It's hard to deny the depth of our amnesia at this point. Memory sharing is weird, particularly between Jack and Callie, but most days when we get home from school and switch to home parts, nobody remembers that we'd had classes at all. Sometimes memories will be shared after the fact, though not always. It makes homework incredibly frustrating and difficult to keep track of--I've never had to be so rigorously organized before. It's just really, really fucking hard to sit down to work on an assignment and realize that I don't remember any of the lecture relevant to my assignments. It's exhausting, most of our extended homework sessions (some days I work six hours straight after school) are made so long because it takes up lots of time to track down the information we need.

Don't even get me started on dealing with trauma. It's a whole thing that needs its own post, but the short story is that we've been in deep, deep denial since disclosing to my mother went so badly last February. It's a huge part of why this blog was abandoned, actually. It's been a work in progress but that denial is finally fading and we're being forced to face the truth. The truth is just... unpredictable. It would be nice to keep, at the very least, the CSA flashbacks and triggers to at home, but it hasn't been working like that. I don't know enough about Callie's experiences to say what that's been like for her, but I am aware that it's been really distressing when she has her own school related trauma to deal with.

Anyways. I wrote this as a way to stall doing homework, but I should probably stop stalling and get the stupid thing done and over with. It's worth 20% of our final mark and I certainly don't want to get blamed for a shit mark because I refused to pitch in and be a team player.

I hate having to share my life sometimes. I just want to do my own thing, separate from the other chucklefucks and their bullshit.

#yay. posting.#adam #I guess.

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the-duckless-pond · 2 months ago

Text

Ugh. I give up on not smoking.

Someone asked me about it AGAIN. Another person that I had told multiple times not to ask me about it because it just made me want to smoke!!! I truly do not understand why literally no one could respect that.

And I’m just… sad and depressed and tired and done and I give up. I went out and bought a carton. Not a single pack, a carton. I’m hoping that at least this time maybe I will smoke a little less. I’m going to aim for every two hours or so. Not every hour like I was before. I would really like to smoke a half pack a day. That would be a massive improvement from where I was at before.

I am so mad though. I want to lay down and cry. I had been doing so well, and I was nearly ready to go from step one patches to step two, but then my mom kept asking about it and I lost my shit and smoked on and off for three weeks. I finally decided to stop a few days ago (four or five) and was hanging in there, and then someone asked about it again. I just can’t anymore. I’m done. I give up.

I feel like I’ll be trapped smoking for the rest of my life and doomed to get cancer or something like that now. Because apparently everyone supports the idea of me not smoking but no one actually supports what I need to be successful. Which does not feel great to know.

I guess maybe I’ll try again over winter break when jt is cold and bad and I don’t want to go outside. I still have five weeks of step one patches left and all of step two and three, so I’ll just hold on to those until I feel ready to try again.

And next time? I’m not telling anyone at all. Literally no one will know. I might write about it here in my diary entries, but that will be the extent of my sharing about it.

My long term goal is to be quit by the time I do my study abroad in 2026, so I’ve got time. I did really good until everyone ignored what I wanted and needed, and I know I can do good again.

But for now… I am tired of being triggered and I give up.

Idk. I just can’t understand it. It’s like if people knew I was hurting myself and was trying not to, and every day someone new asked me how it was going not cutting myself. Like can you imagine how much of a trigger that would be? It would be awful. Everyone would judge you for asking. But for some reason it’s okay when it comes to quitting smoking? I don’t get it.

Anyway. I just stopped my days since timer. Longest streak is 28 days. I’ll go longer next time. It had been five days, one hour, and twenty eight minutes since I last smoked. What a massive disappointment this has turned out to be. I started out so hopeful and now I just feel disappointed in people for not respecting me enough to not ask like I asked them to.

I would really like to take a moment to point out that I have no negative feelings or emotions towards myself about this. It is an addiction, and that is okay. It’s just like when I quit self harm. It took many years and many attempts, and I am sure this will too.

HOLD THE PHONE ON ALL OF THIS THERE IS A WASP IN MY APARTMENT ON THE LIVING ROOM WINDOW AND I DONT OWN A BUG ZAPPER RACKET OH FUCK

I OPENED THE OTHER WINDOW AND THE SCREEN SO THAT IT CAN GET OUT BUT IT IS JUST WALKING AROUND ON THE CLOSED WINDOW

GO TO THE OTHER WINDOW

Oh thank fuck it’s out now oh god that was terrifying

immediately making an order as soon as I finish this post for a bug zapper racket since I like to keep these windows open in the mornings

Well. That got me to stop crying really quickly. I guess the fear shocked the despair right out of me.

I have things to do today but honestly I feel so form in that I’m probably going to push it all off until tomorrow and focus on feeling better and doing feel good things. Thinking I’m going to watch all of the marvel movies and shows in order because I did that prior to the first show coming out and it was really fun. And it took like three weeks and kept me very busy and distracted. I was also depressed during that period and I recall it being a good distraction so that I didn’t hurt myself like I wanted.

I guess I’ll give an update on that front. It’s been like a week or maybe more since I last hurt myself? I don’t know. I’m not really keeping track tbh. I don’t care that much. This feels like a serious relapse when it comes to my mind set, but not so serious in actual harm done. I guess I’ve had to the urge to hurt myself a bunch but mostly I’ve been ignoring it. And I was focused on quitting smoking and all that bullshit. I guess I’m hoping that now that I’m smoking again I can use that as my pseudo self harm and not hurt myself anymore? I don’t know. Something like that. I’ll try it out and see how it goes.

In all honesty, I don’t care that much. Right now I care about making it to class and getting good grades. I’ve missed one day of class each week since the semester started and that is… not good. The first time I had a migraine, and then I was sick, and then I was so depressed I couldn’t get out of bed and the syllabus says don’t come to zoom class from bed. So.

I guess maybe I’ll adapt what I did like a decade ago when I stopped hurting myself and get myself a little treat for each week I make it to all my classes. I only have three meeting times a week, so that doesn’t feel too hard. I mean, it is right now, but it won’t be forever. So I’ll find some little treat to get for going to class. Maybe bubble tea? That is kind of pricey since I have to get it delivered. Maybe a new mini? Those are pretty inexpensive, although I don’t have a place to display my minis yet and they are all in storage, and also all my painting stuff is still at mom’s. I don’t know. I’ll think of something.

In other news I broke up with Jim, my therapist. He didn’t do DBT and did CBT and it was okay but not for me. He was also ADAMANT that I needed to go out and socialize more, yet never asked me if I had that week??? So it was this constant pressure to do more be more be less me that built up and got really uncomfortable. Also I don’t think he ever really… comprehended that I am aroace and have no romantic or sexual desires. That came up a bunch the first like six months that I saw him. So, I finally decided I had had enough after he once again said that I needed to rejoin society (his actual words) when I HAD gone out and been social (hello!!! Ren faire for 8 hours plus two hours talking in the car???) and yet never asked me if I had done anything. And I guess I just got really sick of it. So yeah. No more Jim.

I do want to go to therapy again but I think I’m going to really take my time and look for a dbt certified therapist this time. Last time Jim was what I could afford, and he accepted my shitty insurance which was the main reason I saw him for so long. But I think I want to be back in DBT centered individual and group therapy. That is what has worked the best for me and led to long term stability and results. So I will do my research and take my time and find the perfect fit. Even though it might be really difficult in the mean time without therapy, I think it will be worth it. Also, I DO own the DBT skills manual, so I can always make copies of worksheets if things get really dicey.

So yeah. Those are the updates. Mostly depressing things I guess? I don’t know. Honestly I’m not too broken up about going back to smoking. I’m at peace with it. I kind of saw it coming. So I’m not mad at myself or beating myself up about it. Same with the occasional bout of self harm. I’m at peace with it. I’ll address these things when I get therapy. Maybe. Once I learn to trust my new therapist.

That’s my other problem with Jim. I never got able to trust him so I never really talked about anything that was going on? Mostly because ive had a string of really bad therapists for a few years now. Actually, I’m not done with the post. I want to vent about that.

Okay. First, there was Brenda. Brenda was great and helpful and helped me gain the skills to stop hurting myself and I saw her over for a decade weekly. I adored and trusted Brenda. And then, Brenda got a puppy. This was June 2020. Brenda texted me that she needed to reschedule our session bc she forgot how much work puppies are. I was in a good spot and I foolishly trusted Brenda so I was like yeah!!! whatever you need!!! And I never heard from Brenda again. Literally nothing. I texted her a few times trying to reschedule but she totally ghosted me. It was heartbreaking. This was the beginning of my trust issues with therapists.

Then I scrambled to find a new therapist because it was Covid and I wasn’t doing too great. And I saw Lauren for a while, but my eating disorder came back and Lauren didn’t do ED treatment. I never fully trusted Lauren but I still kind of opened up to her about my psychosis as it was happening to me. So Lauren was okay, but she also mostly did CBT? And that doesn’t work for me. She didn’t do a lot of DBT with me and tried to push CBT techniques, so I would have stopped seeing her anyway.

Then I saw Dr. Brianne, who cost a fuck ton because she is a psychologist, and she was pushy and awful. I hated going to therapy with her. Her office was also awful about billing which gave me a lot of financial issues. Which stressed me out and made my ED worse. Dr. Brianne also claimed to DBT, but never used it in my sessions with her. I finally gave up on her after she made me breakdown because she kept being pushy and I was clearly upset but she didn’t stop. This solidified my trust issues, I think.

Out of spite, I recovered from my ED on my own without any of her help and using what I remembered of DBT skills.

Then I saw Jim, and that lasted for a year. And he was okay. He accepted my insurance. He pressured me a lot about going out and making more friends and just ignored that I don’t want that kind of life and that I am content with the life I have right now. I couldn’t open up to him because of all my trust issues and basically wasted money talking about bullshit every two weeks and dealt with my problems on my own.

And now I don’t have a therapist (which tbh is effectively the same as seeing Jim) and I’m going to look for one but I’m going to be very picky this time because I want someone good and not someone bad or mediocre. I want a good fit, I want DBT, and I want someone that won’t be all pushy or pressure-y. I’ll just cope in the meantime.

Okay. I’m done writing now. I mean, I have more to say, but I have to charge my phone since it is dying.

Maybe more later? Idk. For now I will focus on doing the feel better things and deal with studying and everything later.

#diary entry

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plotwholls · 2 years ago

Text

Amanda Waller is many, many things. Stupid is not one of them. As she passed into her home office, a steaming mug of tea in hand, she didn’t pause or blink at the increased shadows in a corner that has near direct light from the lamp. She simply placed the mug down on her desk. It would be stupid to not listen to your instincts... and Amanda is not stupid. She pulled out from the drawer a legal pad, a pen, a highlighter, and a gun. She swung it up to meet the dead center of the shadows.

“You can put the gun down, Ms. Waller.... Normal guns don’t work on me.”

Amanda doesn’t lower the gun (because, again, she isn’t dumb), peering suspiciously into the dark corner. “...Who are you?”

From the shadows appear a set of glowing green dots, and then follows a 20-something male figure, definitely leaning towards the younger half of the decade. “Someone with whom you have similar goals... and who has something you want, that I’ll trade, for them to be the same goals.”

She cocks her head to the side, still not lowering her gun. “Go on.”

“I can give you the complete antihalation of the entire Justice League, with very few stipulations.... All you have to do is exactly what you would’ve done anyway.”

Now she lowers her gun. “Kid, what kind of weapon could you have that the U.S. military doesn’t?”

His jaw pulsated. “...Not a weapon. However, my... method looses effectiveness if a certain detective clan knows I exist.”

Amanda laughs a bit. “You. You’re the weapon?”

His mouth twists into a snarl bristling with far too many needle-sharp teeth.

The hand on her gun twitches, but not the finger on the trigger. Amanda remains standing.

“I’m not a--” He sucks in a deep, calming breath, and his hair flared violently, steam blustering from its tips, before calming back to a watery wave. “...I’m not a weapon. What I am is impertinent. What is pertinent is protecting the advantage I’m prepared to give you.”

Amanda runs that through her head a couple times, trying to decide what to focus on. She decides. “Protecting how?” She files the rest for later.

“I want you to make the federal Anti-Ecto Control Act, He tilts his head, seeming to consider his wording, “not exist.”

“...The what?”

“Anti-Ecto Control Act. It was passed seven years ago, sandwiched between the passing of two massive bills into law. I want it gone like it was never there.”

“Why.”

He pursed his lips, his nostrils flaring, steam gushing out of them, like a cartoon bull. “It is a legal acknowledgement of the existence of beings that could possess the entire League. And you wouldn’t be able to stop them.”

Amanda felt her face twitch.

The being’s face twisted tight, a smile pulling.

Jesus fuck, he saw. Dammit. Her lips purse.

His face breaks into a tiny smile for a half second before he settles back into cool disinterest... with hints of humor in his eyes. Fuck. Goddammit. She is never getting that respect back, is she? She didn’t even know what was so fucking funny.

“What kind of beings?”

“Ghosts. They’re real, and they keep trying to turn Amity Park, Illinois into their playground. I do a pretty good job of keeping it under control, if I do say so myself, and every call made to the JLA has been dismissed as bogus, but eventually, they’re going to come calling. I’d like as little acknowledgement as possible to back up the preconceived ‘bogus’ notion.”

Amanda couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Now, I know you probably can’t believe this is happening--”

Amanda’s gun flies back up to aim right between the eyes. Mind reader?!

“WHOAH, WHOAH, I-- SAM, DON’T TELL ME NOT TO FREAK OUT, I’VE GOT A GUN POINTED AT ME--”

“‘Sam’?”

Dead silence (ha... dead).

“Tucker, I blame you.”

...Oh my god. This idiot’s wearing a comm. He has no clue what he’s doing. ...The fact the comm works is majorly concerning, but not the problem at hand (or is it?!). Amanda tightens her grip.

He sighs. “Look, I-- I don’t know what set you off just now--”

“Are you a mind reader?”

He looked completely thrown. “What? No-- my nickname is Captain Oblivious; you think I earned that on purp-- y’know what? Don’t answer that. Look, do we have a deal, or what? I’m willing to give you information people have committed war crimes to glimpse, and all you’ve gotta do for me is what you would’ve done anyway!”

Her eyes narrow. “Explain.”

Short DPXDC Prompts #459

Danny asks Amanda Waller for help to dismantle the GIW.

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weliketheiroldstuff · 2 years ago

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ILTOS FIRST SHOW OF 2023: Detroit plows through blizzard to get to sold out show with Bayside, I Am The Avalanche, and Koyo

THIS WAS THE FIRST SHOW OF THE 6TH SEASON OF ILTOS x SHERBURT

I swear to god, Detroit has been hit by every blizzard in the last 6 weeks. It’s been ridiculous. Ice storms. 1 million without power. And then a few days later perfect 55-degree weather. I let out a massive audible sigh when the weather report dropped. The report informed us that there would be a blizzard again but this time the night of this show. The day before I got an alert saying the show at The Fillmore was canceled. Schools were closing. Everyone and their mother was out to get eggs, milk, and bread. You know, because everyone loves french toast in a blizzard. The drive to Detroit was obnoxious as all hell because the roads were like driving in a 7-11 Slurpee machine. When I walked out of the parking garage onto Beaubien, I immediately stepped off a curb onto what I thought was ice. It ended up being water with slush on top, about 8 inches deep. I stopped in my tracks feeling that Detroit slush fill my shoes it triggered my gag reflex. How fucking horrible a feeling? At the very least, I was so stoned when I stopped by the apartment to get the gear and I put on my old work shoes. What I get for not taking a cue from the guitarist of Koyo and getting some Timbs but I’m glad I didn't wear my regulars. Anyway, onto the sappy and silly. This was my first show of the new year and the first show with the new rig after working my ass off to get to it. This show was absolute clarity for me. That I finally am content with what I’m doing and now the real work can begin.

Training has ended...

The last 10 years... With all its anguish. All its misery. All the loss. Every ounce of pain, entirely worth it, to get to tonight. My feet were soaked in the slush from a cracked Detroit sidewalk. Snowstorms turn the city into a ghost town. It's ominous when it's not beautiful. I dodged falling ice coming out of the Bricktown garage. I'm reminded I'm not even supposed to be alive, let alone doing this shit. None of this was supposed to happen. I can't help but always feel like a finger snap will come and reality will set in and this dream will end. But I know deep down, all of this was made from the ashes of my old self. All of this came from nothing. From the bottom of the barrel. Why I don’t drink whiskey. Why I don’t like pharmaceuticals. And why I battle depression daily. The truth is this; you have to find something to do with your negative energy. If you don't, you’re going to make things harder to take and harder to deal with. If you have to battle depression it’s hard to think about being sad when you’re doing shit you love. It’s harder for your brain to trick you into thinking you're miserable. Now sit at home and do nothing with the same problems. I implore you mother fuckers to find shit that sets you ablaze from the inside out. It doesn’t have to be the same shit as anyone else. Idle hands are the devil's playground, there's something out there that you want to do but don't. Stop pigeon-holding yourself to the current idea of your life. Then you can realize this shit can get really rad when you nurture it.

All these shows are cathartic because I kinda can pick and choose and be strategic about what I’m doing. This one had all of the above. A lifelong connection to two of the bands. High praise for the opener and the torch they’re carrying. They are the same as the bands that were on this tour 15-20 years ago. Playing with much heavier bands on hardcore festivals and legitimizing the next generation of Long Island bands. Long Island to me is just straight-up fucking pure songwriting culture to me. These sets didn’t have filler tunes. Think about that shit for a second. All 3. Bayside played fucking 21 songs. No filler. All fucking gas. All fucking smashing or at the very fucking least, crowd-pleasing tunes. If anything it gave me a reason to respect LIHC's past, present, and future, that much more. Shit doesn’t need to be groundbreaking, it just has to be fucking good. KOYO features members of SEEYOUSPACECOWBOY, Typecaste, Rain Of Salvation, Hangman, and Adrenaline. This is some of the best pop-punk music I've heard in a very long time. I don't know how to simplify my feelings other than that way.

This set, was an absolute blast. The new lineup for I Am The Avalanche clearly has chemistry and loves playing live together. It quite literally made me fall back in love with this band. The last time I saw this band was one of my favorite shows of all time in Detroit. Bane, I Am The Avalanche, and Evergreen Terrace. Being a product of Melodic Hardcore and that era’s peak being my heyday, it makes perfect sense right? And this was at fucking Alvin’s. I just remember the most stage diving I’ve ever seen until that point. I got ET stoned out of their minds and had drinks with a lot of weirdos that night. That feeling I had then, came back this evening while watching these dudes. How truly different this city and state and country and planet have become since. An entire lifetime away it seems. I absolutely love the stage presence of these guys though, can just tell it’s all hardcore kids. We’re a different breed. I’m stoked on this lineup, as they one, sounded tight as fuck, and two give off an energetic live show that if it’s your shit, you won’t be disappointed. With the new release of “Honey Bee” it was rad to have a beer and watch them play it before it was released a few days later. Those little things are the memories I keep with me. They make this experience and my entire music photography and journalist experience unique. Long Island is a pure songwriting capital.

BAYSIDE… oh boy. So since 2016, I have only had a few mess-ups in regard to music photography. While coming from a DIY background, I still try to have a level of professionalism when it comes to dealing with the bts stuff. I can confirm it's me with a tight butthole and a higher register in my voice. I have battled imposter syndrome just like everyone else the entire time I have done this. And every time I have been called out for being unprofessional it fucking stings...

When I am in the pit, I am myself. No person will hold any constraints on me there besides the regular photo rules. That guy I am in the photo pit is just me. It's not some other version of me. That different version is the tightwad above. I am a guy who enjoys a drink, who always partakes in cannabis, and a genuine fan of the music I’m photographing. I need to be in that mode to create. It’s the same mode I’m in when I edit. The same as every time I played drums live as an adult, and sometimes as a teenager. Definitely, every time I worked on production or DJ’d live. Gross, I hate talking about myself like that. Toot this horn asshole..

Anyway, Bayside allowed me to photograph them in the beginning of this trek. During their set at the Crofoot, I accidentally switched out of manual mode and into AP mode and my on-cam flash was triggered. I took about a half dozen photos of Anthony before realizing I was the one beaming him with flash. This after I said “Who's the fucking asshole using the flash in the photo pit…” I have thought about that since. Like 5 years. Of telling a waitress "you too" when she tells me to enjoy my meal.

B A S E D !

After 5 years of obsessing about blinding Anthony Raneri, I finally got approved to photograph them again. Oddly enough with Vinnie Caruana again, but this time with IATA and not The Movielife. I dummy-proofed this from ever happening again by finally fucking leveling up to pro gear, and pro canon cameras don’t have camera fucking flash my friends!!! No more fucking anxiety anymore. Bayside, Anthony, I fucking appreciate it.

This fucking band played an incredible set. I made it as long as I could with soaking wet feet but was so happy to grab Vinnie doing “The Walking Wounded” with the dudes. This was a lot of fun and I’m so stoked that this was my first show as I have a long affinity with Long Island music. Dating back to giving Mark from TBS “New Yorker” joints every time they came through from 2002-2004. I know, hilarious.

I am reminded how much I love doing this every time my health or my day job keeps me away from photographing shows. This was one of the hardest breaks for me. A few weeks post-surgery I was humbled after doing two shows. I realized how much had been taken out of me, not just all my teeth. My energy and stamina plummeted. I couldn’t do anything at all for a few weeks. Being a person who works retail 6 days a week, no movement for a few days begets a fat boy coming back. By the time I did the two gigs in November, I was not ready whatsoever for the physical effects of my exhaustion.

I overexert myself always, I always feel I can do more. My biggest fear is having a heart attack at a show. Also, passing out from exhaustion and needing to be sent to the hospital because I’m just simply not taking care of myself properly. I know a lot of other things could be considered so much worse than that. I hate the idea of a show stopping for me for anything. Those 2 shows needed to happen so I can retool my entire outlook, my mentality, and how I do things going forward. I am so stoked this was the tour that started off the year, the new season, and the camera rig. I’m so thankful for everyone who has followed me for this long.

I have no idea where we’re going from here but I know it’s gonna be very eventful. I’m just going to try to take as many photos and write as much as possible. This shit to me isn’t about advertising money, or fucking promoting the biggest bands, or getting the biggest gigs. I stopped with the bucket list being focal and it just being an afterthought. I have those goals still but last year became about doing everything on the list for me, and it got so selfish and I realized how much I truly don’t want to be like that, even with my art. I now have a platform, one that took almost a decade to build. I now have a way to push music. And I have a way to push local music more than ever, which is what I really want to do. Focus on the smaller bands and the locals who are trying to get to touring level. Of course I will still put in for Metallica and I'm doing as many big shows as possible too. But I straight up ignored the small side, the DIY side, and the local side while building a portfolio. I did that so people would consider me legitimate in this realm. So when I work with an artist, it matters, and it helps. Somehow. I could not ask for a better situation outside of not having to go to a fucking grocery store job to pay the bills. My dear friends, I gotta find ways to make the shitty work, the personal life issues, the family problems, and the consistent weight of the world, tolerable to deal with.

And all of this in my eyes goes back to Youth Crew Culture and making sure the next-gen has the space to do the things we did and more. During the early days of Covid I realized how much I took from my culture and how much I could finally give back once shows came back. It all started to make sense. Now we’re staring down basement shows, local fests, and promo sets for locals. This makes me happy as hell. Especially being a Downriver Hardcore Kid approaching 40. There aren’t many of us still carrying the Black Flag. Rats forever.

Long live hardcore and everything that is adjacent including these 3 bands and all the other more melodic and punkier bands coming out of New York and specifically Long Island. Thank you for your exports.

B A Y S I D E SETLIST

Big Cheese The Walking Wounded (with Vinnie Caruana) The Wrong Way Sick, Sick, Sick How to Ruin Everything (Patience) Already Gone They're Not Horses, They're Unicorns Masterpiece Strangest Faces Prayers Numb It Don't Exist Landing Feet First Megan (Smoking Popes cover) Duality Hate Me Blame It on Bad Luck Montauk Don't Call Me Peanut Go To Hell Devotion and Desire

B A Y S I D E http://ffm.to/baysidetheblueep http://tiktok.com/@baysideband http://twitter.com/baysideband http://facebook.com/bayside https://www.instagram.com/bayside/ http://baysidebayside.com I A M T H E A V A L A N C H E https://www.instagram.com/iamtheavalanchenyc https://www.facebook.com/iamtheavalanche/ https://twitter.com/iatanyc LISTEN TO “HONEY BEE” https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ipfcipt7nh4

K O Y O https://koyolihc.com/ https://www.instagram.com/koyolihc https://koyolihc.bandcamp.com/album/drives-out-east

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violets-arepurple · 2 years ago

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Your theory on abilities being a trauma response is actually kind of correct! In the Gaiden light novel, it was stated that people develop abilities after some major event occurs rather than being born with them. I apparently can't send images on anon, so instead I'll copy and paste the specific excerpt I'm referring to (all translation credit goes to profqlasses on Twitter, she really did us Gaiden fans a massive service with her translation).

---

"Because my ability does not listen to my commands.

My ability lives in the shadow beneath my feet. With almost no definite form and like the shadow itself that wriggles autonomously, it’s an elusive ability lifeform. What I only know is that it has goat-like horns and is a bipedal beast, with nothing more than a black sickle to attack with. Everything else is ambiguous; even if you stare at it carefully, you still won’t be able to make out its figure. I don’t even know what it’s thinking.

I call it the Shadowling.

It’s hiding in my shadow now, thinking of something.

I don’t know when it will reveal itself or whom it will attack.

I don’t even know if it’s an enemy or an ally.

Sometimes when I’m walking down the street, I feel its gaze in my shadows, and my skin would grow cold.

A monster lurking within me.

An abnormality holding my breath behind my daily life.

“Sensei,” I muttered hoarsely. “Have you ever wished you didn’t have your ability?”

“What a very mature question,” replied Ayatsuji-sensei. “I can tell you the answer, but I don’t think a fledgling like you would catch it. You’ll need about ten years of suffering for that kind of excellent question. How many years has it been since your ability first awakened?”

I didn’t need to count with my fingers; the number had always been in my head.

“……Five years.”

“There are lots of obscurities as to when and how people acquire their abilities. But most of the time, there’s a certain trigger. In your case, it was your mother’s death. In Reigo Island’s Serial Murder Case five years ago. If it’s from something like that, it’s no wonder if one or two abilities would get involved there. And it’s regardless whether the person in question wants it or not.”

The Reigo Island Serial Murder Case that happened five years ago.

A case where tourists who visited the island suspiciously disappeared one by one.

Ever since Mother died in that case, I’ve had to deal with this unstable and baffling ability.

My senpai from the Special Division analyzed this ability as “a memento of my mother”. Whatever the reason was, my ability manifested because of Mother, which led me to be scouted by the Special Division. In that sense, it’s all thanks to Mother that I became an agent. In reference to that, Senpai once mentioned, “Think of it as a gift from your mother”.

However…

I remember the moment when the dark and cold figure of the Shadowling pierced the Special Forces members’ chests.

Without even a murderous intent but rather with a transparent and pure will to kill.

This—is a gift?"

---

It's kind of a long excerpt (so sorry for how much space this'll take up in your inbox), but it's really interesting and important. I'd also like to specifically emphasize the part where Ayatsuji says that "it's no wonder if one or two abilities would get involved there". One or two. This confirms that people can develop several abilities, which is an absolutely fascinating concept.

Anyway, Gaiden is literally So important to overall BSD lore, and it pains me that it's so criminally underrated. So, if you have the time, I highly suggest reading it :)

Thank you for the info Anon

The several abilities part is quite interesting as it could be reminiscent of people having multiple trauma responses/coping mechanisms in the face of trauma

Peoples abilities being uncontrollable at first is also important as for many people who have trauma it can be difficult for them to prevent the negative effect of their trauma and in Bsd it seems to be that the people with the most control over their ability have some sort of support system or recovery. Even characters like Akutagawa who seems to have control over his ability but he in fact uses it in a very self destructive way that only really causes harm to himself and others (this isn’t to say he’s bad due to his trauma that is a contributing factor but mental illness is a reason not an excuse)

This is also has interesting for Dazai as he has one of the most uncontrolled abilities, he’s constantly in defence mode as well as this he is the most obviously traumatised characters, as shown by his constant suicide attempts, manipulation and self sabotage. This means it may be possible that with some character development and healing he’ll be able to turn his ability off one day

#sorry for the late reply anon #y’all feel free to send more asks on the theory in I enjoy thinking about it #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd theory #bsd dazai #bsd aktugawa #ask

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luminnara · 4 years ago

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It’s Been A Long, Long Time | Alpha!Bucky x Omega! reader Part 2

Summary: When HYDRA had their prized asset, the Winter Soldier, they did something no one ever thought was possible: they gave super soldier serum to an omega. With the sole purpose of tending to him during his ruts, she spends decades living in HYDRA facilities, denied her humanity and her life. Now, years later, Bucky Barnes has his mind and his own life back...and the last thing he ever expects is to see a familiar omega again. Bucky/OC, a little angsty but mostly smutty/fluffy/romantic!

Part one | Part two | Part three |

Warnings: NSFW, Knotting, ABO

Tags: @kyrah-williams @oceanmermaidwitch

The soldier’s rut seemed to come around on a perfect schedule. Like clockwork, every few months Amoretta would be pulled out of her usual living space and sent to the rutting cell to wait for him. Sometimes, he came in smelling fresh and clean, like they had just hosed him down. Other times, he was covered in dirt and blood, most of which didn’t seem to be his own. She didn’t care; her heart soared every time she heard his heavy boots stomping towards her, and she always faced him with a confident, even gaze.

They would spend his rut together, the soldier knotting her over and over until it passed. He grew bolder with her, showing her affection she never thought he was capable of. He would carefully lay her down on her side so that he could curl around her, waiting for his knot to go down so that he could start all over again. His hands became increasingly gentle, calloused fingertips brushing over her folds carefully as he tried to pull those beautiful moans out of her throat.

He often succeeded; Amoretta woke up to his touch more times than she could count, her thighs already trembling as he played with her clit. The soldier was good at getting her ready for him, though she was almost always prepared to take his cock anyways. Her body responded to him eagerly, slick always pooling between her legs whenever he was nearby. She couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like if HYDRA didn’t have her on so many heat suppressants.

Even without her hormones raging, she was falling for him. He was big and strong and protective, always putting himself between her and the guards whenever they appeared in the doorway. If it weren’t for his trigger words, Amoretta was positive he would tear them apart before they even got close to her. Did that mean he felt the same way about her, too? Or was she just being a silly omega, stuck in a cold series of tunnels, latching onto the only alpha she was ever permitted contact with?

She couldn’t tell.

She didn’t really care.

All she knew was that she wanted him. She had begun looking forward to his ruts, and by the end of her first year in captivity, her body had begun being able to predict when they were coming without the use of a calendar. It was like waking up on Christmas Day, excitement flooding her while she waited for the guards to come let her out of her cell. It always put her in a good mood, knowing that she was about to see the one person who seemed to care about her in that godforsaken place.

And he did.

He cared.

Whenever he saw her, the soldier felt his chest swelling with happiness. There were no bond marks on either of them, but she was his, and she knew it. His omega knew that he was there to keep her safe. He was driven by a simple urge to take care of her whenever he saw her, his need to protect her always taking over his mind. She was so much smaller than him, but she took him so well and fit so perfectly against his chest when they laid together. He never wanted it to end.

“Alpha?” She asked one night, voice barely louder than a whisper.

His knot had gone down a little while earlier, but he was too exhausted by a full day of fucking to go at it again yet. Instead, he was dozing, an arm draped over her protectively while she snuggled up against his chest.

“Hm?” He grunted, cracking an eye open.

“Do you…” she sighed. “Never mind.”

He was fully awake now, both eyes open as he looked at her. “Do I what?”

She bit her lip, feeling stupid. “Do you think we would be together outside of this place?”

He was silent as he thought about it. He didn’t know anything other than HYDRA. Shit, he had never stopped to wonder if there was anything other than HYDRA. Did he have a life besides killing? He had no memory of it, if he did.

“I’m sorry, it’s dumb.” Amoretta said, burying her face against his chest. “Forget it.”

“‘Mega,” his chest rumbled with the word. “It’s not dumb.”

“Then why didn’t you answer?” She huffed.

He snorted quietly. There it was again. That brazen attitude she always had.

“Because...I don’t remember anything outside of this.” He finally said.

Amoretta looked at him. “Nothing at all?”

“It’s always been HYDRA.” He didn’t sound too concerned.

She frowned. “Well...if it wasn’t. If we were just two normal people.”

“Normal?”

“You know.” She couldn’t help but smile a little. “Just...two people, living in a city—“

“New York.” He interrupted quietly.

She paused. “New York?”

“A city. To live in.” He said. “New York.”

Her brow furrowed slightly. Why would he choose New York? It was a large city, to be sure, but it seemed out of character for him to interrupt with something like that, especially considering that they were currently being kept somewhere under Eastern Europe. They were as far away from the States as they could get, and she had expected to be talking about someplace like Paris, or Moscow, or Berlin.

She knew the soldier was someone HYDRA had captured a while ago, which meant he had to have had some sort of life before they pumped him full of the serum. Could this be part of it? Was he...remembering? If he was, she wanted to know more. All HYDRA used her for was getting their asset through his ruts, so she had plenty of time to think, and plenty more time to be curious. The most interesting thing in the compound with her was him, and she had spent hours just wondering about him. This could be her chance to actually get him talking about something other than rutting, and she wanted to encourage more.

“Okay, New York.” She said, a reassuring hand on his arm. “What part?”

He thought for a moment, trying to concentrate. “Brooklyn.”

“Why Brooklyn?”

The soldier shrugged. “Heard about it. I think.”

“Never been there?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Hmph.” She played with a strand of his dark hair. “If we lived in Brooklyn, what kind of life would we have?”

“A house,” he said.

“We’d have a house?”

He nodded, his nose finding the scent gland on her neck and rubbing against it. “Filled with lots...and lots...of pups…”

Her heart skipped a beat and she immediately felt heat coiling around in her belly. She couldn’t help it; she was pre programmed to get excited at the concept of being bred. Even without her heats, the thought filled her chest with butterflies.

“Wanna breed you…” his voice pulled her back to reality.

Amoretta licked her lips, grinning. “Then breed me, Alpha.”

He let out a playful growl, somehow finding the strength to roll her onto her front and grab her hips. He held onto her tightly enough to leave little red marks, but he never had to worry; she was strong. She was made for him. He knew that she could take whatever he gave her.

“Want my knot?” The soldier asked, toying with her wet folds for a few moments before he shoved his cock inside of her.

“Y-yes, Alpha!” She squealed, pussy immediately tightening around him. She had grown so used to his size by now, she hardly even needed any preparation to take him. Her body accepted his girth eagerly, wanting nothing more than to feel his knot catching on her.

He groaned appreciatively as he began thrusting in and out of her, setting a lazy pace for himself. “‘M gonna fill you up, Omega...gonna fill you up, get you nice and pupped…”

Her cheeks were flushed as she listened to him, skin burning as her alpha fucked her. She loved the sound of his voice. She loved everything about him.

“Please,” she moaned, melting down against the sheets.

“Yeah?” He let go of her hips, moving both hands to hold her ass. He gave it a squeeze, chest rumbling happily at the feeling of so much supple flesh in his grip. “Fuck, omega...my pretty ‘mega…”

She sighed happily, her pussy squeezing his cock as a little orgasm fluttered through her. He was good at that, and giving her those tiny little ones every so often with nothing but his words.

He snarled at the feeling. He wanted more.

A metal hand snaked around her front, finding her clit and rubbing it roughly. She immediately cried out, surprised by the sudden stimulation, and it wasn’t long before her thighs were shaking and she was a moaning, crying mess underneath her soldier. How did he know what to do? Why did he even care if she got off, when she was only there to please him?

He had to be more than just a flesh and bone HYDRA machine. She knew he had to be.

As she tipped over the edge, he followed close behind, his breath hot on the back of her neck as he bit into her shoulder. The pain felt dull, despite his massive fangs tearing into her. It always did; Amoretta was never worried about it, often sporting bruises and bite marks after her soldier mounted her. With the quickened healing abilities her body now had, nothing lasted very long before fading anyways.

She wished they would stick around, though. She wanted to feel claimed.

She felt his knot swelling and she sighed happily, slumping down onto the cot as he pressed his chest against her back. He began lazily licking at her shoulder, swiping his tongue over the bloody wound to soothe it.

“One day,” he grumbled, “One day, ‘m gonna mark you.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“Wh-what?” She asked, looking back at him.

He nodded, sure of himself. “You’re my omega. An’ one day, I’m gonna make sure everybody knows.”

—

How many years did she spend there, in HYDRA’S compounds? After the first, it was easy to lose track. She was kept on a monotonous schedule that consisted of a few feedings a day, exercise sessions, and the occasional “doctor’s visit.” Those always just meant that her suppressants were being increased, as her body was growing steadily angrier about them. She was building up a tolerance, the doctor said, and they would simply have to keep ramping up her dosage.

She dared to ask why they couldn’t just let her have heats like normal, and the answer was simply that they didn’t have the facilities ready to raise super soldier pups. The thought of being separated from her own offspring mortified her; it was bad enough that she was always so far away from her alpha, and she knew she couldn’t bear to give up her pups for some twisted HYDRA program.

So she shut up, and learned to deal with the side effects of the suppressants. They made her constantly nauseous, not enough to make her vomit, but definitely enough that she was uncomfortable all day. As her dosage increased, so did her headaches, and there were moments she considered begging the doctors to take her off of them so that she could feel at least some relief.

But she knew that would be a bad idea. She had to continue acting like she had absolutely no interest in returning to her normal heat cycle, or else risk HYDRA thinking about how quickly they could get things ready to start a new super soldier program. Amoretta wanted to keep their minds off of it for as long as she possibly could, and it seemed like she was successful; it never came up during her visits to the lab, the doctors seeming much more focused on how to keep her from getting pregnant at all.

It was for the best. She knew that. But part of her whined and yearned to be allowed to start a little family with her alpha, even though he hadn’t given her a bond mark. With every rut she spent with him, she felt herself growing more and more comfortable at his side, wishing more and more that they were normal people. She wanted to live that life in Brooklyn with him, to smell fresh air again instead of the recycled oxygen they pumped through the compound.

Sometimes, Amoretta was moved to different facilities. They were always underground, always just as gray and dingy as all the others. The guards always tranquilized her in order to transport her, and she would wake up in a similar, yet different cell from the last, groggy and even more nauseous than usual. She figured they were moving both her and the soldier around, depending on where they wanted to send him off on missions. She just wished that she could go outside once in a while, too.

One night, she got her chance.

She woke up early, her body fighting off the tranquilizer she had been given. She could tell that she was in a cramped, dark transport crate, moonlight filtering in through the air holes on the top of it. Fresh air was coming in, too, the scent of grass and pine filling her nose. It smelled so delicious that she was gulping in lungfulls, immediately shifting to press her face up against one of the holes.

It was small, barely large enough for her to see out of it, but she could spot a few twinkling stars up above her.

She wanted more.

The crate was heavy, reinforced with metal bars meant to keep her in and the soldier out, but she was determined. She hadn’t seen the outdoors in...shit, decades?

A few good kicks was all it took before she was scrambling out, bare toes digging into the dirt as she stood and looked around. She was in the middle of nowhere, it seemed, a few trucks idling nearby as HYDRA workers moved supplies into the compound.

As soon as they noticed her, she ran, sprinting off into the trees. She could hear shouting behind her, but she didn’t stop, too excited by the feeling of the wind against her bare skin. The night air was cool and refreshing, and as she skidded to a stop at the edge of a field, she could hardly believe she was really outside.

Turning her eyes up to the sky, she let out a happy gasp. The moon was full and bright, an entire galaxy of stars twinkling in the inky blackness of space. Amoretta hadn’t realized how much she missed it.

Heavy footsteps drew her attention away from the stars, but she didn’t turn to look. She could smell her alpha approaching, his scent seeming more curious than angry now that he had found her. He was alone, free of the entourage of guards she had expected to come after her.

“Omega,” he growled, his low voice rumbling.

“Look at them,” she sighed.

He stepped up next to her, his side brushing hers. “At what?” His blue eyes were scanning the treeline, searching for anything that could be threatening his omega. When he found nothing, he tilted his head to look down at her curiously. “What is it?��

“The stars,” she sighed again.

Stars?

He watched her face for a moment, surprised to find her smiling up at the sky. When he finally followed her gaze, he paused to admire the stars. He never really did that, did he? Whenever HYDRA let him out, he was sent with strict orders. There was never any time for stargazing. Though...it was nice, and the look on his omega’s face was even nicer.

“That’s Ursa Major,” she said, pointing up to a collection of stars. “See? It’s a bear.”

The soldier snorted. “I don’t see a bear.”

“Then look harder.”

She glanced over to see him actually squinting, the lower half of his face obscured by the black mask he wore on missions. The sight made her laugh, quiet giggles quickly turning into full, hearty laughter that had her gripping her sides. There he was, a huge, terrifying super soldier, the most dangerous assassin in the world, and he was trying to figure out constellations.

“What?” his head whipped around to look down at her.

“N-nothing,” she giggled.

He gave her an exasperated look. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I might be.” she nudged his side with her shoulder. “You’re just...cute. That’s all.”

She could see him raise an eyebrow. “Cute?”

“Mhm. You know, this is the first time I’ve seen you outside of a rut.” she leaned against him, looking up with big doe eyes. “I like it.”

His chest puffed up a little as he looked down at her. “You do?”

“Of course.”

“Good,” his throat rumbled with a low purr. “I have to take you back now.”

She deflated with a sigh. “Already?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Not safe out here.”

“There’s nothing out here scarier than you, Alpha.”

His purr grew louder, a little more smug. “You’re right. But I have orders.”

“Can we stay for just another minute?” she pleaded. “Then you can drag me back.”

The soldier considered her offer. He really did enjoy watching her gaze up at the stars, and he had no idea when he would get this chance again. “...Fine.”

Amoretta smiled. “Thank you, Alpha.”

His arm found its way around her waist, pulling her up against him. “You like stars, omega?”

“I used to sit outside and look at them every night back home,” she said. “Well, when it was clear.”

“Back home?”

She nodded. “I grew up in this quaint little village, tucked away in the mountains...at the foot of the alps.”

He cocked his head. Something about the alps...it felt like there was a memory nudging at the back of his mind, but he didn’t know why. Maybe he had gone there on a mission? HYDRA was good at always wiping his memory between outings. It was hard to tell where he had been.

“Let’s go.” he said, suddenly uncomfortable.

Amoretta didn’t resist as he scooped her up, instead resting her cheek against his chest and trying to surround herself with his scent while he walked. She could tell that something was bothering him, but with no idea what, and with him nearing the HYDRA base, there was little she could do to try and pry it out of him.

She would just have to wait and try again during his next rut.

#alpha bucky #alpha bucky barnes #abo #omegaverse #it's been a long long time #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x oc #avengers x reader #avengers x oc

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thekingwhowouldhavebeen · 3 years ago

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Anakin Skywalker Headcannons (Part 2)

Hey there! Welcome to part two of Anakin Skywalker headcannons! Please note, these are all PERSONAL opinions and not to be claimed as fact! Some of them are random so have fun lol!

Some may be contradictory to Cannon but do I care? Not really. They didn’t give me my Anakin angst so I am getting it myself (Cue evil laughter!).

Part 2 of ???

Ask questions through my ask and I’ll happily respond!

I will be tackling more heavy and sadder Headcannons, and diving into some triggering stuff. You have been warned! Anyways, lets get to the headcannons!

Trigger Warning List

-Implied Non-con

-Mentions of Suicide

-Basically everything that is related to slave/child abuse

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

-Anakin deep down always kinda of knew what his fate was to be. He’s had visions of death, of burning, of hatred ever since he was a child and it wasn’t until Mustafar, fighting Obi-Wan that he realized that no matter how hard he tried to change things, he ended up exactly where his visions put him. It was too late then, and his guilt was washed away from the flames. Anakin died screaming.

-Anakin deep down is a massive people pleaser. Him putting on a disobedient front more often than not is just an act. Generally, he will listen and only disobey when he genuinely thinks he’s in the right. That doesn’t mean he isn’t having a mental breakdown over it and has to work himself up before going to Obi-Wan or the council.

-There was once a time when Anakin was a Padawan where Mace Windu was like “You have greatly disappointed me Anakin Skywalker” and Obi-Wan had to quickly soothe the rising panic that Anakin started feeling.

-Anakin has a shit ton of panic attacks but he’s really good at concealing them now. At least until he has the privacy to be alone. Obi-wan can sometimes sense it, but its more common to find him hyperventilating over a droid because something came to be a bit to much. However, surprisingly, it’s Rex and Kix who know immediately when something’s up. Sadly, they can’t always be there.

-Anakin often questions Obi-Wan’s love for him. He gets incredibly insecure and sometimes thinks he only tolerates Anakin’s affections for him. Padme tries to tell Anakin that isn’t the case, but she also knows her words do little justice. Sometimes, Anakin just needs to hear it from the source. Obi-Wan is just too stubborn to realize how much he keeps himself from Anakin and Padme and sometimes needs a good wack in the head to realize he’s hurting one of the most important people in his life. Padme never questions, and she never needs too.

-Anakin, despite loving and adoring Ashoka like a little sister, is terrified of failing her. All he wants to do is be a good master, but even more does he want to be a good friend. He’s scared that he can’t be both.

-Anakin on many occasions has genuinely considered leaving the order. Frankly, if Obi-Wan and now Ashoka aren’t there, he probably would have already left long ago. He holds a lot of anger, distrust and hatred to the Jedi Council and its code. He still hasn’t forgive them from the things they have said all those years ago.

-He genuinely doesn’t feel like he has a place in the Jedi. He has to be friendly to the people who bullied him. He has to be kind to the Hutt who sold him. He has to be gentle to the men who whipped him. At least the Jedi never forced him to see Watto again.

-Anakin knows he’s pretty. Of course he does. He’s been called it all the time, by almost everyone he knows. The only person who never dared to use that word was his mother. Slaves know what being ‘pretty’ means. He wishes sometimes in the war that his face got scarred up more. That he has to suffer a wound so grievous that it forever scars him and makes him look more like a horrifying monster, forced to wear a mask for the rest of his life, rather than a Child of the Sun. However, out of everyone saying he looks pretty, Palpatine is the only one who sends shivers down his spine and make his lips curl up in disgust.

-Anakin isn’t as sexually active as most people think, due to a few experiences he had as a slave. He only participates when Obi-Wan or Padme initiate it, but he never does so himself. He NEVER talks about it, and TBH not even Obi-Wan and Padme know about it. He never talks about it during the private moments with Padme or Obi-Wan that he can still feel the phantom hands, the stinging pain. Its something he truly keeps close to his chest. A lot of painful memories were brought up with Miraj during the Slaves of the Republic Arc, and a lot of new memories were made. Ashoka nor Obi-Wan didn't understand why Anakin didn't want to be touched for a week. They were wanting comfort, and offering it to him. Yet Anakin never approached them. However his dislike for it doesn’t mean he doesn’t find enjoyment in it. Through Padme and Obi-Wan, he learns that it doesn’t have to be painful or scary. So while he doesn’t particularly desire it like Padme and Obi-Wan, he doesn’t mind giving that part to them.

-He knows he wasn’t always going to be staying with Watto. He was being trained on the side lines, he never told his mother. He just hoped he could free her before he was sent to the brothels. He was ‘pretty’ after all.

-He is probably sometimes over protective of Ashoka, and holds a lot of anger at the council from the Zygerrian mission. The council doesn’t seem to understand how in danger she was, and he is forever thanking the force that she got out relatively unscathed. Not that Anakin did. He still doesn’t talk of that time there.

-He has EXTREME claustrophobia. Obi-Wan has tried to help him through it, but as soon as Anakin gets it into his head that he’s trapped in an enclosed space, he’s immediately freaking out. At least now he doesn’t openly sob or show his panic. Better for Obi-Wan to think he trained it out of Anakin. However Anakin remembers being in a box when he was young, separated from his mother despite feeling her close by. Feeling like he could barely breath, sweltering from the heat of the desert sun and his own body.

-He can be possessive over his food, and NEVER leaves scraps. He will always eat everything presented to him on his plate, and has many occasions ended up with him throwing up because he ate so much. Obi-Wan just chalks it up to not wanting food to go to waste. He never considered that Anakin once had to go for days without food.

-Anakin's experiences as a Slave were a LOT worse than people think. He doesn't like talking about it, but people can find little things in his reactions to prove it. The widening of his eyes when someone yells at him, the way he sometimes flinches at a raised hand. The way he'll momentarily panic when he's injured and has to tell Obi-Wan.

-The biggest reason why Anakin likes Droids more than people sometimes is because Droids won't ever have the desire to own you. In Anakin's eyes, they are just as much a slave as he feels sometimes

-Anakin has tried to commit suicide once. He doesn't talk about it, and no one knows. He still keeps the letter he wrote in his pocket, just in case he decides to go through with it.

-He has a really hard time wasting water. Same thing with food, he won’t waste water. First time he saw The Room of a Thousand Fountains, he almost had a break down with how much water they were wasting. Now he knows that logically he will never run out of water, doesn’t mean he will use it frivolously.

-Anakin DOES NOT like to be cared for (actually he loves it but he has a hard time accepting it). Accepting help means a price, and he still struggles with the knowing that's not always the case.

-There are times in his life when Anakin does NOT want to be touched. He will actively avoid it, move his body away from people trying to touch him, hug him, anything. He’ll pull away from kisses, keeping his hands in his pocket so he doesn’t have to shake hands, and just obviously ignore signs. This usually lasts for about a week and Obi-Wan can never figure out WHY it happens.

-He also goes mute sometimes. This lasts longer, and the last time it happened he was mute for a month. Not even Yoda can figure out what’s blocking Anakin from speaking, but sometimes Anakin just doesn’t want to talk.

-He suffers from really serious depression. Times when he can’t even pull himself out of bed. Just curling under the covers and not able to do anything but lay in his misery. First time Ashoka found him like this caused her to panic and run to Obi-Wan thinking he was poisoned. Now she knows better, and instead is just there for him.

-Anakin still holds some bitterness in the Jedi for never letting him free the slaves. Same goes for Padme. She never seemed to truly fight to end slavery. Anakin sometimes wonder just what they think of him sometimes. Do they really not know the horrors of Slavery. He considered once taking Padme in person to see it. And he knows Obi-Wan saw a glimpse, yet still. He had it easy. At least he was in the mines.

-Anakin knows his anger is bad. He tries so hard to control it, but when he can’t he’ll take it out on himself. Push himself. Tear himself apart. Force himself in situations he doesn’t like, situations he feels the need to throw up from, just to punish himself. Its the ONLY time he’ll ever initiate things with Obi-Wan and Padme. Yet they are oblivious. They always seem to be.

-Anakin didn’t like how he was constantly forced to cut his hair as a Padawan. Soon as he had freedom, he chose to grow it out because at least then he felt better about it. Felt like he had SOME bodily autonomy.

-Obi-Wan once used Anakin’s looks for negotiation once. While Anakin played along with it, at the end of the mission he very sternly told Obi-Wan “If you ever fucking do that again, I will NEVER forgive you”. Obi-Wan listened.

-Anakin has a dissociative disorder, specifically OSDD B1 where all the ‘alters’ share the memories of what happened, but not the emotions that come with it. However, there is only 1 other Alter, to which he goes by the name of Slave. Created to protect Anakin during some of the worst moments and occasionally has come out during his time as a Jedi. Obi-Wan can sense a shift, but never really can tell that Slave and Anakin are different people since Slave knows how to act as his counterpart. He prefers staying dormant. However, he does gain an official name eventually. “Vader’. Brought forth to protect Anakin from Palpatine, and well all that Slave desires is to please the master. He will obey every order to avoid punishment and pain. Anakin was under such emotional and physical duress that Slave was pushed forward and took charge. Anakin vaugely awoke with searing pain watching Obi-Wan leave, before falling back and letting Slave take the reigns now. He hates what they have done.

-Anakin HATES being drugged. Despises it more than drinking. If Obi-Wan can tell something’s drugged, or if Anakin finds out after he swallows it, he will put his fingers into his mouth and force it back out if its not to late. He’d much rather drink than get drugged because at least drinking gives him a better chance of being aware.

-Anakin forever has Ashoka’s Padawan beads. Even as Vader, they are tucked safely away in his pocket. Protect and loved. He wishes he could run his fingers along them as he used to when she first left.

-Anakin personally helped Rex, and quite a few other clones paint their armor. In turn, he’s even let them paint his own. He keeps that set safe in his room, too terrified to wear it cause he doesn’t want to lose something so special to him.

-First time someone genuinely complimented Anakin, he cried like there was no tomorrow. He was complimented a few times before, but for some reason this one really seemed to make him realize that it was a compliment and not some form of back handed insult. He tries his best to compliment people, and prefers teaching Ashoka through positivity rather than negativity. The only time he yells is when he’s scared or he feels like he genuinely needs to (which is more than he would like, especially the first few months)

-Anakin doesn’t actually know his birthday, or really how old he is. He and his mother can estimate, but they don’t actually know for sure. He just said a date for his birthday just to get Obi-Wan off his back.

#obikin #anakin hc #anakin blurb #anakin skywalker #slavery #child abuse #child neglect #prequel era

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gpoust37 · 2 years ago

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Rogue One: A Star Wars Story… 6 years later. Well, like, 3 years since I watched it leading up to TROS. But you get it.

In the past 6 years, my opinion on the movie has mostly stayed the same. I like it overall, love the third act, and get triggered when people say it’s the best Disney or overall Star Wars. That remains true today, but I think I am a little more positive on it and can safely say I put it as my 3rd favorite of the Disney era behind TLJ and TFA. For a bit there, I considered Solo being better. but having seen that a couple months ago and seeing Rogue today, Rogue One is definitely better. Still enjoy Solo a good bit though.

Back to Rogue One, overall, it’s good. But that first hour has just never sat the best with me. I never found Jyn to be that intriguing at first. It starts to pick up for me when she is seeing her father’s message. The stuff leading up to that is a bit lacking for me. They present her as this apathetic loner who is just out for herself. But on Jedha, she saves that little girl during the fight, risking her life in the process. Which, I guess could just show that the whole loner thing was just a mask. But I always felt that such an action should have taken place after she heard her father’s message. That should be the catalyst (hahaha get it? Like the name of the prequel book. I’m so clever, clearly) that wakes her up from her apathy and desire to do what’s right at all costs. Based on trailer footage, they seemed to have cut some moment of her being a bit more sassy and potentially cynical. I’m basing this off the “I rebel” line that’s not in the film. Although there is no indication her saving the girl was added later in the process, regardless I feel it makes her arc less interesting if she was that heroic already. Feels like they wanted to make sure she was likable enough rather than give us the story that seems to be there. Her actions after the message all flow better to me. I just ignore her saving a child and her story feels more interesting to me. Not a massive problem but it’s always stuck out as something that lessens the movie for me. I do think we needed a scene of young Jyn and Galen bonding. Something that shows their bond beyond having a nickname. Something that would make sense with Jyn feeling abandoned but still ultimately missing him. Even just a quick scene of him teaching her something on the farm that can show their dynamic. A hug goodbye and a nickname just doesn’t cut it for me. Something to add depth to her seeing him for the first time after all those years.

Cassian falls sort of flat to me. While they do show he will murder even allies, it’s clear he does so because he believes it is the best thing for the rebellion. He does what he feels he must. I never took it as he was some bad dude or anything. Desperate times and all that. So, when he goes with Jyn to Scariff, it just feels like he is still doing what he thinks is right and best for the rebellion. He is willing to do whatever it takes. There is talk of him doing these things due to orders… but he kills the guys at the start by his own choice. He kills one of Saw’s rebels to cause chaos to save Jyn. He disobeys his order to kill Galen. He disobeys the council and goes to Scariff. Seems like he is his own person after all. I do like the scene after Eadu where he says he’s been in the fight since he was 6. It showed there was a story there, we just don’t really get it in the movie at all. I think we needed a bit more for him here but at least the show will give us far more. The sneak peek for Andor was good. I am now hyped to see the show. It said there is a 3 episode premiere on 9/21. Not sure if the three episode thing was announced already. Maybe it was? Anyway, while I like a rebel who will do anything to complete the mission, I wanted something more there and it just wasn’t there.

So with the two leads not doing much for me, particularly in the first hour, that’s a big downer for me, not ruining the movie or anything though. Just lowers the movie for me.

Saw’s portrayal is… odd, if you’ve seen his Clone Wars and Rebels stuff. Though, tbf, the Rebels stuff comes after Rogue One. While the monster clearly broke his mind, the Saw we know from before this would never just give up and wait to die. He would survive and keep fighting. In another version of the film, he would have gone with them and been a role model for Cassian as someone who does anything to complete the mission. But then he goes too far and shows Cassian there has to be a line that they won’t cross. Just feels like a missed opportunity there. Instead he dies because they didn’t know what to do with him? He also could have been another witness to the message and back up Jyn. But nah, just die already.

There are some other things that irk me and kind of take me out of the movie. The blue milk in that opening scene. The movie is filled with Star Wars things we know, I’m not against blue milk. But it’s the fact that it is front and center that just strikes me as odd. The placement just makes me give it a side eye. Just feels silly. Then there is the moment with Ponda Baba and Dr. Evazan. It’s completely pointless. It only serves to have the audience go, “I know who they are!” I hate it. There are so many other things in the movie that make sense to be there based on context. X-wings? Of course. At-St’s? Makes sense. Tarkin? That fits with what we know. Vader? Of course he’d be involved in this stuff. And so on. There is no need to force references in when there are so many that just naturally comes with the time it takes place and the major players involved. The ones that feel forced stick out like a sore thumb.

Then there are just really odd decisions on how things are presented or added on. Like, when Bail steps up during the first meeting at the rebel base and they play the force theme and he says nothing and does nothing of note. I think he has like a line of dialog there? It’s so weird to give him that emphasis for nothing. The 3PO and R2 scene. I hate it. I know it’s only like 10 seconds, but again it just sticks out to me. Contextually they would be there as the ship they are on is present as we see when it break away from Raddus’s ship. But they serve no purpose. Just another “I know them” moment. I don’t like it.

I’m sorry, but Baze is completely useless and should have been cut to give a little more time to the other characters. He’s just along for the ride. His death is the most pointless. His only purpose at the end is to mourn Chirrut. He finds his faith again only to be killed in his next scene. I think it would have made way more sense for him to be the lone survivor. Living on to continue the fight with his renewed faith. But they committed to killing them all no matter what, I guess. Bodhi gets the transmission to Raddus. K2 buys Jyn and Cassian time. Chirrut flips the master switch allowing Bodhi to make that transmission. Jyn and Cassian do what it takes to transmit the plans, knowing they are trapped there to ultimately die. Baze was there because???? Feels like the easiest cut in the world.

Those are probably always going to be my biggest issues with the film. I think everything else works for me. The performances are good despite the material at times. The visuals are fantastic! I probably under appreciate the music. I found the Tarkin CGI convincing. The Leia face felt off to me, although, I swear what I saw today looked like an updated pass at the CGI of her face. I wouldn’t be surprised if this is the case but I haven’t seen anyone else Point it out, so maybe I’m just crazy. It’s so brief it doesn’t ruin anything even if I find it off. I enjoyed Vader here, even the corny choking on your aspirations bit. Raddus is awesome and I loved the hammerhead maneuver. Chirrut and Bodhi work for me. Krennic is decent. The third act is near perfect. Best space battle in all of Star Wars. It leans hard into the wars of Star Wars and works beautifully.

All this to say, I’ll always consider this a good Star Wars movie. But best of Disney or overall? Eh. You’re getting an upset stare from me for that kind of comment. It’s a solid 6th place after episodes 4-8.

I’ve prattled on enough. Sorry for the essay.

TL/DR: This movie is good with some problems but still good. Excited for Andor now.

Okay, one final thought: I think they should have made Jyn and Cassian become a romantic dynamic. People going through something so important together and overcoming obstacles and saving each other’s lives and such would likely draw you to the other person. It is cliche to hook up your two main leads, in this case, I think it would have made sense and stayed true to the original trilogy. It would have been reminiscent of the Luke/Leia and Leia/Han dynamics. Maybe they shied away from it because they knew Rey/Kylo was happening and they didn’t want to have yet another couple dynamic as leads? Feels a lot better than Reylo’s kiss and ending that just kind of dives off a cliff into silly. I dunno. I just think romance and love is apart of Star Wars and it would have made sense here a lot more than in the sequel trilogy and added a little more depth to their characters.

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young-dumb-and-vaccinated · 3 years ago

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A Deafened Bard (Stephen Strange x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Doctor Strange and y/n confide their tragic backstories in one another. Y/n struggles with her feelings for him.

Trigger warnings: abusive parenting, use of firearms, discussion of death and grief, mention of alcoholism

"On the outside, always looking in

Will I ever be more than I've always been?

Cause I'm tap, tap, tapping on the glass-"

You stopped yourself before you could indulgently belt out the titular lyric.

"Ew, why was I singing that?" You muttered to yourself. "I don't even like that song."

You knew, subconsciously, that it was because you were trying to avoid what you really wanted to sing. For the first time ever, you had an audience. Someone was paying attention.

"Love of my life, you've hurt me-"

"Oh, come on, butterfingers." He interrupted. "Love of my Life by Freddie Mercury. Give me something hard."

"I wasn't aware it was classic rock trivia night."

"Then why were you staring straight at me while singing?" He smirked.

"Was I?" You cocked your head, expertly deflecting his implication. "I'm so spaced out I don't even know where I'm looking."

"It's Freddie Mercury." He insisted.

"Uh, yes and no." You corrected, drawing on your encyclopedic knowledge of Queen from one particularly weird summer in high school. "While Freddie Mercury wrote the song, it was recorded on a Night at the Opera. Which was accredited to the whole band."

"That's a nitpick," he shook his head. "I'm still right."

You couldn't wear your heart on your sleeve anymore. You could only distract him with 70s glam rock trivia for so long before he started to notice a pattern. Although a sappy love song was in your heart, you sang the anthem of the depressed theater kid.

You were staring straight at him, though. But who wouldn't? You studied his features only for artistic inspiration. His sharp jaw and high, high cheekbones were… inspiring.

You couldn't lie to yourself. You fell and fell hard.

"Butterfingers!" Master Strange called out from the other side of the sanctum. "I need you!"

You dropped your pencil and pushed yourself out from the chair. "Coming!"

You followed the voice into his chambers. This was a new development, you thought. Out of respect for his privacy, you'd never dared to snoop around in his bedroom. But this was practically a written invitation.

The room was spotless. Not a book or a scrap of paper out of place. Nor was there much to look at at all. A handful of picture frames, some magazines from when he was a surgeon, all featuring himself on the cover.

"Butterfingers!" He called again, as if he knew you were about to snoop.

"I'm here!" You yelled back, eyes wandering around the room. "What do you need?"

"I left my watch somewhere in the library!" He sounded disproportionately panicked for what was just a minor inconvenience. "I need you to go get it for me."

"What does it look like?" You asked.

"It's a $27,000 watch." He snapped impatiently. "It looks like one."

"Jesus." You cursed.

"Don't give me that shit, [F/N]." He ordered, slamming his fist down against the sink. "Just do what you're goddamn told."

"Alright, alright!" You put your hands up. "Fine, I'll get it."

You hurried down the stairs and into the library. On the floor between his favorite chair and a stack of musty old books was a slim, silvery watch with a plain black band.

You picked it up and examined it. Apart from the price tag, was there really any reason for him to be so worried about it? He knew exactly where he left it. Did he have reason to believe it wouldn't be there when he returned?

All you needed to do was flip it over to get your answer. You read the inscription on the back.

Time will tell how much I love you -- Christine

You should have known that his massive ego wouldn’t keep the women away forever. Hell, it certainly didn’t deter you. Much uglier douchebags have gotten far prettier girlfriends than they deserved.

You closed your fingers around the watch and sighed. The fantasy you created for yourself, of slowly, deliberately earning his love was shattered. Christine already beat you to it, it seemed. You tried to smother the part of you that resented this person for her exclusive right to Master Strange's affections. You didn't know her, but you loathed her. And you felt filthy for it.

With a heavy heart, you brought the stupid, criminally expensive little timepiece back to its rightful owner.

"Here's your all-important watch, master." You mumbled, placing it on the bedside table.

"I know I told you I would give you space to question things," He said, swiping it from the table and expertly affixing it around his wrist. "But I'd really appreciate it if you didn't question this."

You tried to sound as non-passive-aggressive as you could. You attempted a more forgiving tone, but you couldn't hide your hurt. "It's fine. I don't care."

"I didn't mean to get short with you, [F/N]." His voice softened. "I'm sorry. But this watch-"

"It's fine." You cut him off, peering at the floor.

"It was a gift." He finished anyway.

You felt the lump in your throat rising. You knew what the watch represented and you wanted to smash it to pieces. Along with the sting of rejection, you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. "I know. I saw the engraving."

"She died two years ago." He lowered his head.

Suddenly, all your ill will towards this woman turned into guilt.

"I'm sorry to hear that." You said. "I can't imagine what it's like to lose someone who loved you so much."

"She had agreed to come to a speaking engagement with me. As a second chance, and-" Pain wrapped his voice. He closed his hand tightly around the watch and held it close to his chest. "Have you ever been in love before, [F/N]?"

From the way your heart ached, and how easily the thought of never being with him made you cry, you knew the answer. You'd been avoiding speaking it into being thus far, but you couldn't lie to yourself anymore.

"Yes." You whispered.

"You'll learn soon enough." He muttered. "It only brings more suffering."

The tears finally breached and you tried to blink them away. You didn't know what emotion was causing them: guilt, shame, contempt, anger, sadness-- they were all present.

"Master Strange, I-" you stuttered, tripping over your breath. "I respect what you've gone through, I really do, but it's not fair to take it out on me."

"You're right." He conceded. "I'm sorry. Please, go get some sleep.”

You nodded. “Right.”

You slept as late as you could get away with the next morning. In apprentice terms, that only meant sleeping until eight thirty. Your dailies could wait an extra hour while you laid in bed, feeling like garbage.

You stumbled down the spiral staircase in your pajamas. No bra, no makeup and no effort. You didn’t even run a brush through your hair. Why try, you thought. Why make an effort for the man who would never see you as anything but the help?

When you saw the piano, though, you did a full 180.

In the living area was a French cherry baby grand piano that definitely was not there before. You certainly would have noticed it before. You placed your phone on the counter and approached the new addition.

As if the memories were woven into the very muscles and ligaments of your fingers, you ran down a few octaves of C Major. The keys were smooth as porcelain and the sound that emanated from the instrument was next to heavenly.

A bright orange post-it note was stuck to the music rack.

“Love of my Life”, Queen, A Night at the Opera. 1975

Was this a request, or an admission of wrong? Whatever the case, it made you smile.

"You weren't being entirely honest with me, Butterfingers." He said, randomly materializing behind you.

You turned around on the piano bench and looked up at him. "What was I not honest about?"

"I'm so glad you asked." He sat down on the bench next to you, phone in hand. "Because when you said you used to play piano, you didn't specify you were actually a student prodigy."

Sure enough, on his phone, he was scrolling through your Instagram. Dozens of videos of a much younger [F/N] playing hundreds of different songs, singing with too many vocal runs and doing so with the entire content of her soul behind the music.

"Student prodigy is a bit strong." You turned your head to hide your blush.

He scrolled up and found a picture of a young, zit-faced teenage [F/N] holding an acceptance letter. "Last I checked, Juilliard doesn't give full-ride scholarships to just anyone."

You covered your face with your hands, smothering an embarrassed smile. "God, please. I'd rather you'd found my OnlyFans."

He raised his eyebrows. "As tempting as that sounds, I'd still rather hear your explanation on this. Why did you give up on something you loved?"

You looked at him in surprise. "You really want to know?"

"Well, I told you mine." He playfully nudged you in the side.

You took a deep breath in. "Well, it was about two years ago, now-”

"Cheers to you, [F/N]!" Your best friend Holly raised her glass of champagne in your direction. "Juilliard ain't gonna know what hit ‘em."

"I'll drink to that." You said, bring your own flute up to your lips and taking a swig. You wretched in disgust as the vile liquid ran down your throat. "Or maybe I won't."

"You're gonna have to get used to it." Holly nudged you with her elbow. "I think most professional musicians are alcoholics."

You narrowed your eyes at her. "I don't think that's right."

"Is too." She smirked. "Conductors are mad strict. Abusive even. Drive musicians to drink all the time."

You laughed. "Is everything you know about the world of music from Whiplash?"

"And The Perfection." She added.

"Thank you, Holly." You said, attempting to take another sip of champagne, purely for dramatic effect. "Very cool."

You felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. "Hi, Holly. Enjoying the party?"

Holly took a step back. "Hey, Mrs. [L/N]. Yeah, it's great."

"I hope you don't mind," Your mom said, her fake nice voice eeking through her clenched teeth. "I need to borrow [F/N] for a few minutes."

Holly's face fell. "Sure. I'll catch up with you later, [F/N]."

Your mother tugged you off to the side. With a stressed huff, she began. "Jason is out in the fields with his ROTC friends."

"And what do you want me to do about that?" You asked, knowing her drunk self couldn't read your sarcastic tone.

"Could you go get him and bring him home?" She said, squeezing your upper arm.

"Are you kidding?" You spat.

"[F/N], he's drunk." She scolded. "Do you want him to get another strike on his record?"

"I don't care." You mumbled under your breath. "Have him call an uber. Hell, let him sleep it off in the field. Not my problem."

"You know what he's like when he's drunk." She rationalized. "He gets rowdy. It had better be you."

You tensed up. "No. Holly and I are going to the French Quarter. I don't have time to babysit Jason."

"Just pick him up on your way there?" She pleaded. "It won't take long."

You knew this wasn't going to stop. "Fine, but this is the last time."

You were both dressed far too well to be trekking through the swampy ass nowhere when you should have been fucking your way through the French Quarter. Luckily for your evening plans, all you needed to do was follow the sound of gunshots.

You slammed the car door shut and Holly followed suit. Finding him was the easy part. The hard part was hauling his drunk ass back home.

"Fun's over, shithead." You announced, heels sinking into the sod as you spoke. You didn't have much trouble projecting over the gunfire and getting their attention.

"Shit, [F/N]?" Jason sputtered, so drunk he could barely keep his head straight.

"Holy shit, I didn't even recognize you in that dress." One of his dumb fuck friends added. He jabbed Jason in the side. "Why didn't you tell me your sister's hot?"

"Buster, I-'' You clenched your teeth. "I don't care if you live or die, but my mom needs me to bring Jason home."

"If you get in the car now, we won't have to use the chloroform." Holly added.

Jason scratched the back of his head with the barrel of his gun, then pointed it at you. "You're gonna have to make me."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You exclaimed, hitting the deck. "What the fuck, Jason!?"

Jason and his dumbass friends laughed. "You should have seen the look on your face, [F/N]!"

"Put down the fucking gun-" You seethed. "And get in the fucking car."

He lowered the gun and looked like he was going to concede. Just when you thought he would cooperate, he stuck it up again. He keeled over in a fit of laughter when you and Holly panicked again.

"Look at them!" He shouted. "They're so fucking scared!"

You knew out in the middle of the swamp, nobody could hear you scream. So you used it to your advantage.

"Jason, you're going in the car, or under it." You raised your voice. "I will mow your drunk ass down like eight day old roadkill right here in this field and you will be LUCKY if anyone finds your bloated, shit-covered remains before the crocodiles get a whiff of you."

That seemed to get his attention.

"Sorry, boys." He pouted. "You heard her."

He had to 'get you' one final time, though. Only that time, the gun went off. Just centimeters from your ear. You clutched the side of your head, trying to drown out the deafening ringing with your screams.

You vaguely remembered Holly pistol-whipping Jason before loading you into the car to drive you to the hospital, leaving him desolate and drunk in the field.

"It was a one-in-a-million shot." The otolaryngologist tried not to sound impressed at what was clearly some kind of anomaly very few got to witness in a medical career. "When the bullet fired, the gunpowder traveled down your ear canal, burning the cells of your auditory nervous system and... singing your eardrum... clean off."

Your eyes widened. "Off?!"

The doctor lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Miss [L/N]. I'm afraid you'll never return to full hearing again."

You didn't want to kill the messenger. You knew she was only doing her job. "Are you fucking kidding me?!"

"If we could do a tympanoplasty, which, given the condition of the drum, is unlikely-" she began. "There would still be no way to fully repair the hair cells along the ear canal."

You took deep breaths to try and quell your simmering rage. "I'm leaving for Juilliard in three months."

"Hearing aid technology has improved significantly over the last decade." She said, a somewhat hopeful upturn in her voice.

That was when your mother decided to join in on the conversation. "Oh, we can't afford that."

You thought you were going to crush your teeth into bits from how tightly your jaw was clenched in fury. "Take it out of Jason's college fund, then."

"Oh, [F/N]." She said as if you had just told the funniest joke imaginable. "Please. That wouldn't be fair to Jason."

"You can afford to send that blithering idiot to the Citadel." You hissed. "You can afford to buy me a hearing aid so I can play piano."

"Beethoven was entirely deaf." Your mom pointed out. "And he became the greatest composer of all time. It's really just mind over matter, sweetie-"

"Sure, that makes perfect sense!" You plastered on a deranged smile, feeling driven to the brink of madness. "I can repair my destroyed eardrum with the power of positive thinking! Jason gets thirty-five thousand dollars a year to play soldier, but I have to just use my imagination."

She covered her face with her hands as if she was being attacked and went into kicked-puppy mode. "Don't be mad at Jason, [F/N]. He didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Fuck this." You said, releasing all your tension in those two words. "Fuck all of this. I'm tired of you defending that chauvinist asshole. The next time you see me will be when one of us is dead."

"Where are you going?!" She wailed.

You snatched your purse from the table and threw it over your shoulder. "I'm moving out."

“Disgraced at age nineteen?" Master Strange said, leaning back on the piano. "Let me guess, you turned to alcohol to cope?"

"You'd think, but actually no." You shook your head. The tone of the conversation had taken a sharp left turn from sadness to dry, apathetic amusement. "I probably would have if I could have afforded it."

"You missed out." He said. "Drinking a whole bottle of eighty year old scotch was definitely the highlight of my grieving period."

You'd never joined the clauses 'Master Strange' and 'drunk off his ass' in the same sentence before then. It was an odd mental picture for sure. One you needed to see to believe.

"I got desperate." You admitted. "Luckily, New Orleans had a lot to offer someone like me, so I didn't have to go far to find people claiming to have answers. But it was all essential oils, incense, binaural beats-"

"I'm sorry," he cut in. "What kind of dickhead suggests binaural beats to someone with only one functioning ear?"

You threw up your hands. "Right? Doesn't make sense. Anyway, I came across a woman named Mistress Fantina and she pointed me in the right direction. How to heal my body through control of my spirit."

He looked at you with that fascination of the human body characteristic of those in the medical field. "It worked, I assume?"

"I figured it out." You shrugged. "But I got so invested in the Mystic Arts that I forgot all about Juilliard. Became a full-time student. Ever since, I never once thought about returning to my old life."

"I suppose if I'd discovered this world because I had lost, say, my ability to perform surgery, it would be hard to leave it behind and return to the operating room." He thought out loud. Sighing, he closed his hand over his watch. "But no matter how medical science evolves, you can't reverse death."

You let the quiet linger for a moment.

#doctor strange #doctor strange x you #doctor strange x reader #stephen strange x reader #doctor stephen strange #stephen strange #dr stephen strange #stephen strange x you #what if #what if marvel #doctor strange supreme #tw guns #tw abusive parent

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floralseokjin · 4 years ago

Text

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First meeting: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,443

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin was having the worst morning. He was usually in work by now. An early start to the day was the only way to start the day, so maybe that’s why he was thrown for a loop right now. Everything that could go wrong had gone wrong. But he shouldn’t think like that, after all, he’d promised Arin he’d take her to school this morning. He was embarrassed to admit this, but Arin had been living with him officially for six weeks and he hadn’t once driven her here. It was unacceptable he knew that, but he was learning quickly that juggling a demanding job and being there for his daughter wasn’t easy. Perhaps Nana had a point…

At the thought of his ex-wife, he grimaced, remembering the massive argument they’d had two months ago. The one that had triggered Arin’s move. When it came to Nana he often found himself harsh with his words. Not that she wasn’t with hers either. They had grown so used to lashing out at one another over the years it was hard to stop, even if their divorce was coming up to two years ago now. That’s what his therapist said anyway, and Seokjin just listened, knowing she was correct just unable to think of a way to change it, despite the countless advice Mrs. Shin had given him over the months, years.

He and Nana both worked hectic and testing jobs. They were alike it that way, ambitious and driven. That’s what had attracted him to her in the first place, yet it was the thing that had ruined them soon enough. With age, especially after the birth of Arin, he found himself mellowing out. He was no longer in such a rush to get to the top, or to be the best. Maybe that was hypocritical of him, seeing as a few years ago he had become CEO, taking his father’s place. There was no higher. He had nothing more to chase.

Nana continued to work long hours, motherhood not slowing her down in the slightest. Not that it should. Stereotypes weren’t his style, but it was beyond frustrating when all he wanted to do was spend time together as a family and Nana was too busy preoccupied elsewhere. She loved Arin, he had never doubted that and never would, but sometimes his exasperation outweighed his rationality. When Arin had come to live with him he was so determined to prove Nana wrong. He could easily do both – work and be a father. Of course, he wasn’t stupid, he had known he’d need help, and Misook was more than he could have ever asked for, but he had always been stubborn.

The weekends were great. On his he would organise a bunch of things for he and Arin to do, and on Nana’s weekend he’d use the time to catch up on any work he had remaining from the week. Only, a fortnight ago Nana had cancelled the night before. Arin had been devastated obviously, there was video call of course, but it wasn’t the same for a six year old. He had been left to pick up the pieces, not to mention he had fallen behind on paperwork – and still hadn’t caught up. Hopefully this weekend would be better, but he wasn’t holding his breath.

He sighed to himself as he fiddled with the handsfree. Why wasn’t his cell phone connecting?! He knew he should have taken the other car. Weekdays were the most difficult. He just about saw Arin in the mornings and most evenings he came home past 6pm meaning he just had about enough time to eat dinner with her and catch up before it was time to get her ready for bed. It wasn’t fair on her, she deserved more of his time and he missed her terribly, but time was extremely difficult to find. That’s why he’d driven her to school today, he’d been promising for weeks, ever since she’d started at Primrose Hill actually. He didn’t want to be a let-down.

He’d chosen today, a Thursday, because it was thankfully a quiet morning. Well, had supposed to be a quiet morning. Soobin’s call just before he’d left home had not been something he’d wanted to receive. The web conference with Mr. Lee wasn’t supposed to be until mid-morning but of course the impatient so-and-so had missed the memo – or just completely ignored it seemed more probable.

Seokjin’s headache grew worse at the thought of today. He’d already popped two painkillers early this morning when Arin had woken him up prematurely by jumping up and down on his bed. She was excited, he understood that, but Christ was she loud at 5am. At least he knew she loved her new school, that was all that mattered. He’d been so worried in the beginning, taking his time to choose a smaller school so she wouldn’t be so overwhelmed. It worked out perfectly though. She adored Primrose Hill, and her teacher actually, which he was thankful for. It was always Miss. Y/L/N this and Miss. Y/L/N that… Oh, that reminded him, there was that parent teacher meeting tomorrow afternoon. He couldn’t miss that, no matter what was happening at the office. He was glad he’d had a test run today actually. Shamefully he hadn’t been here in person yet, doing the entirety of the application process via phone call and the internet. The principal had understood, but that wasn’t the point. He needed to do better. He was trying to do better.

This time he let out a yell of frustration as his phone told him yet again it had failed to connect via Bluetooth. He gave up, Mr. Lee would just have to wait until he was in the office to take his call. This was crazy, what on earth could the man want so early in the morning?! There was no emergency. He dropped his phone to his lap and started up the vehicle in haste, wasting no time in reversing out of the spot – Thump!

His car had collided with something. With his heart in his stomach he hit the brakes immediately, looking out the rear view mirror to see a white car. The something he’d hit. Shit. This day had just gone from bad to worse. Panicked, he drove forward, back into the space and turned the engine off quickly. He hopped out, acting on instinct, forgetting his phone was in his lap as it clattered to the floor. Thankfully the screen didn’t smash, and he didn’t stop, picking it up in a rush. No sooner had he come into view, the occupant of the white car was getting out of the driver’s seat too.

“Are you okay?” He asked you immediately, the panic shrill in his voice. He was always such a competent driver. The only time he’d ever sped was when Arin was about to be born, rushing Nana to the hospital at two in the morning after her waters had broken. Now look at him. What a mess.

He found himself babbling, not even giving you a chance to respond. “I am so sorry, Miss.” At that precise moment in time his phone started to ring again. “I really am. I was–”

He had tried to ignore it, he really had, but the noise was just plain irritating and now he found himself quite mad. Stopping abruptly midsentence he let out a huff and picked up. “Kim Seokjin, speaking. Please can I –”

“Mr. Kim, where are you? There’s something–” Mr. Lee tried interrupting, but Seokjin wasn’t having any of it.

“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to call you back. There’s been an emergency.”

“An emergency? What kind? It better not be to do with –”

“Thank you for understanding. Goodbye.” Seokjin hung up quickly. He’d deal with the consequences later. Not that he’d let that son of a bitch walk all over him. He never had. Immediately, his attention was back on you. There were pressing issues at hand here. “I’m just so sorry. Is there any damage?”

He made his way over to the spot he’d hit, just above your back wheel and crouched down, inspecting the damage. “Oh god.” He grimaced slightly. The paint was scratched pretty deep but luckily there were no dents. Still, he’d been foolish. This was entirely his fault.

“The bike rack,” he muttered to himself, looking behind him at the culprit. It had taken the paint clean off. Brushing a hand through his hair, he noticed you were beside him now, still not having said a word. He caught a hint of your perfume, unconsciously noting how pleasant it was.

“What happened?” You asked him, your tone of voice taking him by surprise. You had every right to be angry of course, but couldn’t you see how sincere he was being? He looked up, composing himself hopefully. “I-I was distracted for a moment, I didn’t realise–”

“Were you on your phone?”

“I’m sorry?” On cue the damn device started ringing again. Mr. Lee was on thin ice. He hit ignore straight away. “No, no. God, no.” He protested, realising what you meant as he shoved the phone into the inside pocket of his jacket. He straightened up, standing directly opposite you now as you crossed your arms, waiting for his explanation it seemed. He couldn’t help but notice the way you strained as tall as you could get. As if you were trying to appear imposing. Not that you weren’t unnerving right now. It was just the action was pretty… No. He wasn’t even going to think it because he didn’t want to be at all condescending.

“I was – I was trying to get the handsfree to work in this damn car and last time I checked there was no one there.” Seokjin cringed at himself. He so obviously sounded flustered. He just couldn’t help it. There was something about you that made him nervous, and it wasn’t just because you looked so livid right now. “I wasn’t thinking, I just backed out –” He stopped himself, suddenly realising something. “Why… Why were you on stop directly behind me?”

“Excuse me?” You instantly got defensive. “I wasn’t stopped, I was trying to find a space.”

Seokjin tried his best not to smile. Now it was your turn to try and not get flustered. The way your hands waved about animatedly as you spoke was…charming. Was that appropriate to say? You were watching him again, a look on your face that made him uneasy. Maybe it was because, and he hated to think this yet again, but maybe it was because you were so pretty. God, he sounded like a little kid. You were very attractive, did that make it sound any better? Probably not. Here you were well within your right to be mad at him, and here he was thinking such inappropriate thoughts about you. Well, that sounded weird. He didn’t mean like that. He just thought you were really pretty. He was spiralling over nothing.

“I’m sorry, but do you even work here?”

Your question threw him. “Work here? No.”

“Then why are you using the teacher’s parking lot?”

He watched as you folded your arms again and his eyes widened in horror as he realised his mistake. “Oh no. I didn’t realise…” This was just great. Now he looked like an idiot. That or just plain rude.

“It’s signposted.”

Yup, just plain rude it was.

“It’s my first time dropping off my daughter at this school. I didn’t know where to go, and I was getting so many phone calls, I was just trying to…” He petered out, realising it was no good trying to explain himself. You probably didn’t care about his morning. “There’s no excuses for this. I’m truly sorry and I feel awful.” He apologised, lowering his head. “Let me sort this out. Money is no object. I can call my mechanic straight away and–”

“There’s no need,” you interrupted almost instantly, sounding baffled.

“It’s really no problem.” He insisted. “Come on, if we wait for our insurance companies to sort this out god knows how long it will take. No, I’ll phone the mechanic I use right now and they can come and pick your vehicle up. It’ll be fixed in no time. You won’t have to pay a thing.” He was only speaking the truth. Most insurance companies didn’t even want to know.

“No, thank you.” You voice sounded tight, clipped.

He could sense your irritation but couldn’t understand why. “No?”

“I don’t need your help or your money.” You declared.

Now, there was no need to be stubborn about it. He’d phrased it wrong, admittedly. He wasn’t flaunting his money around the place. At all. He was only trying to help. In fact, he needed to do this. It was his fault. “But I did this.”

“It’s fine, just –” You stopped when his phone started ringing again, glancing at the chest. “You’re obviously very busy, just forget about it. It’s a few scratches.”

Turning your back to him you glanced at your watch. “Wait,” he called out.

“Goodbye,” you called back, rounding the front of your car ready to dive back into the driver’s seat.

Seokjin’s frustration was about to hit its limit. Why wouldn’t you listen to him, and why wouldn’t his cell phone just shut the hell up?! “But – Argh!” He let out a yell, the shrilling of his phone loud and he yanked it out of his pocket roughly.

It was his assistant. Mr. Lee was probably hounding him too. He picked up. “Soobin, what is it?!”

“Mr. Lee, he’s –”

“Yes, I already told him I’m –”

“He said it’s extremely important. His suppliers are being difficult.”

“What? He said they were reliable.” Seokjin ran a hand through his hair, feeling defeat wash through him. Today had beaten him and it was only 8am. As Soobin’s voice carried through the speaker, Seokjin watched you slam your door shut and whizz into one of the only parking spots.

It wouldn’t sit right on his conscience if he left things like this, he’d damaged your car. He needed to make things right. Immediately. Or almost immediately. He’d sort things out with Mr. Lee as fast as he could and then call Jimin. Yes, that sounded like a great idea. He actually found himself smiling a little as he watched you walk towards the school building, a determinedness in your stride that was indeed admirable. You’d certainly left an impression, that was for sure.

The one he’d left on you, however, was embarrassing…

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #jin fanfic #fic:mls #floralseokjin:writings

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years ago

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the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense.

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all.

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time.

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first.

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio.

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him.

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur.

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life.

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.”

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get.

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest platonic #submission #arthur weasley #ron weasley

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