#but that is probably because of David Foster and not because of him

[the-haven-of-fiction]

Still traumatized after 8 years from listening to Josh Groban squawk his way through “Le temps des cathedrales”

[buckyarchives]

MODERN OBI-WAN KENOBI BOYF HC

I haven’t ever done a head cannon post but with how busy / lazy I’ve been I might post more of these, they’re a lot of fun. probably one for Bucky and Luke skywalker. If you want any other characters just lmk! Make sure to check my request post!

warning: nsfw content (labeled so if you want to skip you totally can)

tea guy, like, it’s crazy. has so many drawers full of boxes and bags. always making you tea to fit whatever mood you’re in

landscaper or teacher, or both. I imagine him teaching younger kids but probably wishes to be a professor of some sort, maybe teaching environmental science.

just really likes plants and flowers but sometimes gets tired of having to craft and trim everything to be perfect so he thoroughly enjoys natural nature and the “overgrown’ aesthetic

Adding onto that, loves to hike, always takes you with and nerds out about the scenery and views.

definitely fosters dogs from the local shelter and takes them on hikes to help leash train them.

unintentionally a pretentious little prick

circle lens glasses and turtle neck combo 24/7

And of course you steal his sweaters ALL THE TIME

Smells like citrus, grass and rain. the warm sun rays and vanilla

Always watching some documentary, or the history channel.

All your friends lowkey want him because he’s. That Guy.

Whenever he blushes it goes straight to his nose, ears and neck.

Frequent at most coffee shops in town so when he started to bring you around it was a big deal for the workers lol, so much gossip. And mild disappointment from the staff knowing obi wan was official taken

Probably hates small talk, finds it tedious and shallow

The most supportive boyfriend in the world, he’s always the first person there to cheer you on

When you started dating him, his cousin/best friend, Anakin, came as a packaged deal. The younger one frequently trailing behind obi wan and now, as you’ve got too closer, you as he’s become a younger brother figure to you.

Not jealous at all, he’s very secure in your relationship and his trust in you is crazy strong. finds it quite amusing when men hit on you in front of him and kinda just lets you play it out.

That is unless you become uncomfortable, he mostly lets you stand up for yourself but if it becomes overbearing he definitely won’t hesitate to cause a small scene.

A big runner and boxer, you’re used to having to help his knuckles heal up from long sessions. As well as joining him on early morning runs if he can get you up and out of bed for it.

He loves art and mostly drew and painted landscapes but after meeting you this sketch book began to fill of pictures of you from every angle possible.

So naturally put together all the time it makes you insecure sometimes

Obviously, obi wan is the best at easing those insecurities. He always notices when you’re feeling off, sometimes even before yourself, so quick to embrace you and whisper exactly what you need to hear.

Another thing, so good with his words??? He always tell you what you need to hear, there’s rarely ever any miscommunication between the two of you because of this and even when they’re are, arguments are not common.

Crazy sarcastic, will say the funniest shit ever with the most monotone face and it just makes it 100% times funnier.

Really likes Taylor swift and David Bowie

Always getting you bouquets of flowers, even arranges them himself sometimes.

“This reminded me of you.”

Such a safe and non-judgemental aura, you’d struggle with asking for help or learning new / seemingly ‘common sense’ things with past relationships in fear of seeming dumb but you feel so safe around obi-wan that those thoughts never cross your mind, always learning new things from him and enjoying how helpful and supportive he is.

Definitely an impala driver, either 40s Chevy impala or the very sleek and fancy 2020 impala premier, probably black and rarely dirty

Not the biggest cuddler in the world but really enjoys naps together, will drape an arm over you but he tends to move around in his sleep so he’s just content with sleeping besides you rather than wrapping limbs

But when he is in the mood to cuddle, it’s mostly on the couch when you decides to binge shitty reality television. He’s usually on his back and you’re laying ontop of his stomach with your ear to his chest

You two constantly binge dating reality shows, always criticizing the other couple and mostly men LOL.

“He did not just say that! Maker, you would have broke up with me then and there.” “Damn right I would.”

You trace all the moles and freckles along his body, obi wan definitely had a skin care routine and moisturizes so I imagine his skin is always so soft

NSFW!

really likes nudes, like the grainy MacBook camera pictures with a matching cute set type nudes (iykyk). Hot and slightly artistic, his favorite.

Doesn’t like porn though, never enjoyed it and it never really got him off, doesn’t like the morals of it either

Also sexting, not his thing. He’s usually more on the serious end when it comes to intimacy but he cannot take sexting seriously LMAOO

lowkey the type to come home from a long day of work and look you in the eye with That Look and you just know what he needs

Thigh guy, the type to take breaks from eating you out by just resting his head fully on your inner thigh and just gaze up at you

Sir / master kink

Will jokingly come up behind you when you’re in the kitchen or something and press his groin to your behind

Just a little tease overall, always doing shit like that and acting all innocent about it

VERY VERY vocal during sex (cough, cough, shallow graves ending scene, COUGH)

[finkadink]

Abner Krill “Polkadot Man”

I didn’t want to change his design much from The Suicide Squad 2021 version, mostly because this was my first introduction to this character, and I’ve really grown attached to David Dastmalchian’s image…

My take on Abner is basically the same as the movie version, his mother was a scientist of S.T.A.R Labs who was so obsessed with the thought of creating the next Superman, she dedicated her time to experimenting on her own children. Abner Krill was the youngest of his Seven siblings (three of the seven were actually blood related, his other siblings were fostered and soon adopted under his mother’s care after she ‘deemed’ herself worthy of taking care of them fully, which she then used them for her own sick experiments.) Abner was injected with a inter dimensional virus, which is the Polkadots that Abner is able to conjure. These Polkadots are basically like lasers, formed into small colorful spheres that can destroy pretty much anything in its path. This could make Abner a very powerful ally, or even a worse threat. The thing is, Abner loathes these abilities as they cause him nothing but pain. He still has to dispel these pesky dots twice a day or they will literally eat him up from the inside. When the dots begin to form under his skin like a boil or cyst they itch and ache, not only that but they tend to shift, not staying in the same place, which is even more of a nuisance to deal with. Abner lived under constant surveillance in his Mother’s home, which she integrated into her own lab to keep on eye on her remaining kids. After the death of his eldest sister, one he was closest to, he snapped, using his powers to destroy his mother’s lab and her along with it. Due to being sheltered all his life, he had limited social cues and didn’t know how to function fully around others, which got him quickly sent to Belle Reve to fully contain his powers.

Abner is a pretty intelligent man, tinkering with things in his spare time. He would often take apart his toys as a young kid, only to repair it from the ground up. Right before the murder of his mother, he created a pair of gauntlets from spare parts that he used to better project his destructive powers. Abner is very much antisocial, he’s awkward and shy and has a hard time expressing his emotions with others. Sad pitiful man who deserves better.

More information will probably be added later !! Here’s some old attempts of trying to draw this man lmao… love to struggle

[fereldanwench]

I'm not really sure why this is being brought up after almost three years, doubly so given that I haven't had any interaction with PinkyDude in probably just as long, but since he saw fit to vague about me, I'm going to address this:

I feel this is a misrepresentation of my actions and motivations during this entire situation.

I never made a call-out post specifically against Pawel. In fact, I didn't even mention him by name. I made this post because I saw history repeating itself:

As I said in the notes here, this was also largely informed my experience with the Dragon Age fandom: I witnessed how David Gaider's interactions, including responding to headcanons in a way that could be read as confirming them, contributed to a lot of fanwank. I think Pawel started the streams with good intentions, but he was clearly not trained in public relations (at least when he started), and I did have concerns with how things like the "meme review" were contributing to parasocial relationships.

I also had concerns because Pawel contributed to some misinformation that other writers had to later correct, like saying Goro had never been considered for a romance, which also caused a huge outcry in the community and necessitated another dev to come forward to set the record straight. He was straddling a fine line between being an expert/professional and being a buddy, and that can be problematic when you're interacting with 100s of people hanging on to your every word.

I have no problem with devs doing streams and interacting with the community when they have the tools and information to do it in a way that fosters healthy community interaction, which requires training. I never believed he shouldn't do them at all, and as PinkyDude noted, I enjoyed some of them when he had guests on that I was interested in. However, I did believe that he needed to be far more cautious about how he was interacting with the community, and I did express those concerns.

Mentioning this also seems to be framed in a way to insinuate that I had anything to do with any sort of spite reporting or flagging of any of his posts, and that's just false. I will admit to getting caught up in the throes of some of the drama during 2022, and I regret that and I have made a point to not repeat those mistakes, but I'd never falsely report anyone just because I didn't like them.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

Are we thinking MM will be Misan’s plus one for the Oscars? She has been love bombing him for ages now and surely his poor quality photos of her are not all she is after.

If he takes her instead of his wife, it would be a new level of low.

So I've been thinking about this, and I don't think Meghan actually wants to go to the Oscars, the Grammys, the Golden Globes, etc.

I think she loves being associated with that A-List crowd and she loves the idea of us (her adoring public *and* her critical public) thinking she's that popular, influential, famous, wealthy, connected to be "in" with that crowd. But I think she's actually terrified to be physically there with that crowd.

If you look at every public 'engagement' Meghan does, there's always a couple of things in common:

She controls every single thing - how she looks, who she speaks to, who approaches her, what they say to her, how she's photographed, where she's photographed, who's with her, who's next to her, who's taking her picture, so on.

She's the main attraction, the big kahuna - everyone is there to see her, they want to listen to her, they want to shake her hand, they want to hug her, they want to write only about her.

Neither of these are possible when she's in an auditorium full of much more famous, much wealthier, much more connected, much more desirable celebrities than her. She wants to sit front and center like William and Kate do at the BAFTAs but that's not possible; front and center at the Oscars is reserved for the people that the rest of us tune in to watch - the Meryl Streeps, the Colman Domingos, the Lily Gladstones, the Cilian Murphys. If being in the overflow room on the 8th row in an enormous ballgown is humiliating, just wait till she's stuck at the back of the auditorium with the film editors, the foreign language nominees, and the plus-ones of everyone not famous enough to sit at the front on camera.

Something else to remember about these kind of events is that they're giant parties for the Hollywood industry. Meaning everyone knows everyone, they're all there for a good time. they're not there to promote anything or talk business -- they're not going to talk to someone they don't know, who doesn't really work in the industry, and who's made headlines for blabbing about other people's private/personal business. In other words, Meghan is going to be the one going up to these people to talk to them. She's going to be the one climbing over the chairs to give hugs and say hello and she's going to be the one catering to other people's egos. That's not what she wants. She wants people to come to her, to be in awe of her, to be flattering her ego.

And because everyone knows everyone at these events, it's probably a very safe assumption that if Meghan and Harry have misbehaved/done things to certain people as alleged, then those people have told their friends/staff, who've told their friends, so a whole bunch of people are on their guard about Meghan being in their space.

(Some of those rumors: Harry taking drugs at Courtney Cox's house party and writing about it in Spare, Christian Bales's family having concerns about what Meghan wheedling Gloria Steinem, Meghan using Oprah for headlines while Oprah was at her dying father's bedside, all the shit that went down with Tyler Perry, whatever went down with David Foster and Kat McPhee, Meghan hitting on Serena's husband, whatever Melissa McCarthy and Tracee Ellis Ross know about 40x40, whatever went down with the fertility doctor/OBGYN who closed up shop right after Lili was born, whatever she did to piss off Edward Enniful, everything that happened with Netflix and Spotify (which Netflix hinted at in last week's article), and Meghan's "fuck off" to Anna Wintour about the Met Gala that got her blacklisted.)

Another thing is the fashion at these events. It is a 100% total merchfest. 9 out of 10 celebs you see on the red carpet (including the men) have partnered with designers and are wearing their clothes/jewelry for free. Who the celebs wear usually correlates to one of three things: their fame/popularity, personal relationships between designer/stylist and celebrity, and the likelihood of the celeb getting on camera. Meghan isn't going to get the elite designers to dress her for these events. She doesn't want to wear Carolina Herrera or Hermes readywear when everyone else is wearing hot-off-the-runway Dior, Versace, Prada, etc. She doesn't want to wear Birks when everyone else is dripping in Harry Winston, Cartier, Tiffany's.

And finally, these events are filmed/streamed live. Meghan doesn't like being recorded when she isn't in control. And these are 3-hour, 4-hour long events. She can't keep her mask on for that long, especially when she's being snubbed and ignored by people she thinks should be falling down at her feet. That's why she always hypes up going to the after-parties instead, and why the only events she actually *does* attend are red carpets for private events - there are no cameras at the actual events so she can more easily keep up the "I'm all that and still unbroken!" facade she so desperately wants us to believe.

I mean, she bailed on the Travolta awards at the last minute for a reason.

And if she can't handle being third fiddle to William and Kate, she absolutely can't handle being third fiddle to an entire auditorium of Williams and Kates.

So she might be lovebombing Misan to be his plus-one to the Oscars. But I don't think she would actually go. She'll probably pull out last minute. If anything, I think she's probably lovebombing for tickets to Netflix's after-party. She may also be trying to get Misan to be her "personal" photographer the way Kate "has" Matt Porteous and Chris Jackson.

[polufabrikat-na-vilke]

Thoughts about Diavolo and Doppio

Introducion

All that ton of text exists because I didn't believe it was DID since my first time watching and reading Golden Wind. Literally from the first time seeing their actions and interactions, I thought it looked more like some sort of supernatural thing than that condition, to which I only found more confirmation as I watched. I still want to call the following examples thin, since there is a very high probability that Araki was simply going way too wild with all this mystical mysterious secrecy of the antagonist, and everything that I will give may turn out to be just the fattest wicked technique for exaggerating this, but I want to express my thoughts nonetheless. Plus, I think it might be a narrative trick after all, so I may turn out to be right in the end of the day.

Point

So, let's get it straight: the theory is that there's no DID in that story, Diavolo is not an alter-ego, but something else and probably not a human at all. And now to the specifics.

Let's start from afar: his (to make it easier to read, I'm talking about Diavolo in a generally accepted way) mother, in her words, became pregnant from an unknown man who died 2 years before his birth, and, moreover, she has been sitting in isolation from the outside world for 2 years, in a specifically women's prison without any men at all. AND, MOREOVER, the anime adaptation shows that the fetus develops in just a few hours (I’ll say a few more words about the validity of David's version later). Well, it’s impossible, well, it’s a huge nonsense, even if we consider from a seemingly scientific point of view of this universe, with which Araki tried to explain, for example, the change in physical parameters when switching egos. Here's mystical supernatural shit number 1.

Further. This particular point is relevant only for anime adaptation. Unfortunately, I haven’t found any data on how much Araki took part in its creation, I confess, but I have the right to assume that if it was approved by him and released the way we see it, it is quite a canon by which we can argue. It came out after the manga and this is quite possibly a more correct representation of events from the point of view of canon details. In the same scene, after birth, the baby's eye color momentarily changes from hazel to red, then back. This move, I want to note, is often used to show a character’s possession, usually with supernatural forces or the like. Yes, it is also used to refer to a "second personality" or some hidden nature of a character, but newborns do not have DID, it is a disorder that develops after severe repeating trauma. Mystical supernatural shit number 2.

We smoothly move on to the extreme turbidity and ambiguity of DID, and I’m not even going to talk about body changes when switching. So, DID develops, as, by the way, even in the original source is noted, as a result of a deep shock or trauma. A person dissociates from the traumatic experience, which, if severe and repetative to the point when their mind can't really survive it, results in violation of an identity integrity. It does not develop immediately and is noticeable to others, while commonly not being noticable to a person expiriensing it. And what do we see on this topic there? Nothing, only Doppio shows symptoms of dissociation, and only in situations where something threatens to expose the boss’s identity (or in other situations related to him, that’s the only way), which is strange, because I can’t even imagine such a trauma can be (i.e., it becomes a chicken-and-egg paradox: the trauma, in theory, should be related to the boss, to alter, but without the trauma there should be no boss, no alter). Other trauma is either not shown, which is a serious omission from the script, because this is no longer a mystery, but a hole, or it simply does not exist, because in the village, as far as can be seen, the attitude towards him was near normal, and his foster father is caring and loving, and has a trusting relationship with him (judging by the phrase casually thrown by the drivers from a flashback with his youth, where they warn him not to complain about an accident on the road to the priest, which seems to refer to the fact that this has already happened at least once before, and as if he would hardly have gone to him to complain if he did not trust him). Mystical supernatural shit number 3.

The same muddy and unclear story with his mother under the floor. Why is she there? For what is she there? How did she survive there? But who would know. In my opinion, it looks like some kind of some ritual-related bullshit, or at least a sacrifice to something, but I don’t undertake to make any special statements or comments here, I’m just noting and thinking. Mystical supernatural shit number 4.

Let's get to non-flashback events. POSSIBLY Diavolo is able to influence Doppio's consciousness (which does not happen in the opposite direction). This is indicated by the latter’s holy faith in the fact that he is talking to his boss on real work phones, well, that’s how he sees them, as well as the clouding and memory lapses that suddenly occur after the end of the call, which is strange, but still convenient for Diavolo, what a goddamn lucky coincidence, huh? I don't think alters are able to perform such tricks. Mystical supernatural shit number 5.

In the SCR arc, characters mutually switch bodies with closest persons. What's going on with Diavolo in that situation? He, like a self-respecting individual soul newly revealed to the audience (!), not like everyone else, not like a sucker, "attached" to someone else’s soul (it was kind of similar with Doppio before), and for time secretly sit happily in one body for two. And now, this is no longer a person suffering from DID (that is, a soul with, in our case, an ego split in two (that's PSYCHE thing)), but a whole separate being, moreover, also capable of ruling his soul as he pleases. Mystical supernatural shit number 6.

We will need some of the things from the previous point now. At the end of the arc of Ciocolatta and Secco, Diavolo not only immediately knows from somewhere that Bruno can only see souls, but he also, in order to make Doppio look like Trish for him, lends him a fucking piece of his (let me remind you, separate, like we have already found out) soul. A piece of his soul, God damn it! He (again) not only knows some unreal information about souls, he, as already said, is able to manipulate at least his own. Mystical supernatural shit number 7.

His eyes (iris and pupil), already extremely unique in themselves, are the eyes of his entity, but not his body. When he takes control of someone's body it is visible, when Bruno is in his body it is visible. Worth a mention. Mystical supernatural asshole number 8.

The last, probably the most interesting mystical, but not so supernatural screw-up lies in a small detail: when the souls of the characters in the final battle return back to their bodies, we are shown all of them, except for Diavolo's (well, more precisely they showed King Crimson as it, but this doesn't count (otherwise Diavolo is KC, lol)). Coincidence? I don't think so. More likely it was done on purpose, and this is not even attributed to the supposedly yet another creation of an aura of mysticism around his personality - at this point we seem to already know very well what he looks like... Or we don't, actually?

Conclusion

That's all, actually. The bottom line is the same: Diavolo is something supernatural, I don’t presume to say what he is exactly. This is probably all the fairly significant evidence (meaning those that are less than half conjecture) that I had. There were a lot of strange things in JoJo, inspired by some things from the real world, and then blown up to the point of "incredibility," but here they tried to tie it into some kind of pseudoscientific nonsense that I didn’t believe in. In any case, this is not the first "spirit" in this universe (it’s worth remembering Anubis), so this theory, I think, is more than valid.

So thank you for reading, it's open for discussion, since we'll never know the truth for sure (DID was the assumption of the characters of Vento Aureo, and they called it "assumption" themselves (I want to believe with all my soul Araki fooled everyone, being an unreliable narrator so Diavolo will be even more of an enigma)).

[banigarubug]

warning ;; david’s attempt

consider:

sarah, a college student home for the summer, is hospitalized after falling ill

& ellie who was seriously injured while running away from a foster placement and is placed in the bed next door

they click instantly. sarah is a sweetheart who gets along with anyone and ellie is eager to please a cool college student like any 14 year old would want to

joel and ellie … not so much

ellie gets a kick out of pissing joel off almost as much as sarah gets a kick out of witnessing it .. so ellie amps it up a notch over the course of a few days to really drive joel crazy and make sarah’s time in the hospital better

one of the nurses tells ellie laughter is the best medicine and that’s what sarah deserves. sarah is probably the first person to be nice to ellie like this. to just… accept her with a fond smile. (except maybe riley. but she’s gone now. sometimes ellie thinks sarah looks like her, just a little bit.)

but then ellie is discharged and has to go right back to the place she ran from. her social worker says no one else will take her. of course they wouldn’t.

ellie doesn’t have a phone, but sarah gives her her and joel’s numbers anyways. makes her promise to call if she wants to run again. that way sarah can keep her safe

ellie uses the elusive payphones and stranger’s cells to call sarah sporadically so she knows ellie’s alive, but other than that, it’s inconsistent contact at best. but her birthday is coming up and sarah doesn’t want a gift this year. instead she asks joel to get ellie a phone.. and he says yes. next time ellie calls sarah, it’s 3 days before her birthday, and sarah gets ellie’s address. gets joel to sign her out of the hospital to drive her there and deliver the gift in person. its the most expensive thing ellie’s ever seen and she cries and hugs sarah and then hugs joel

and joel realizes, really, that ellie’s just a kid

she’s a spitfire with a sharp tongue and a huge ego to make up for how small she really is but she’s also just some kid who has never been shown love before

so joel decides to take ellie in, a little bit

not as a foster parent - he and sarah have their hands full, she’s dropping out and the hospital bills are piling up, and ellie’s foster parents are fine anyways, just old and weird - but takes her to visit sarah once a week for a meal together - sarah calls it family dinner, behind ellie’s back but straight to joel’s face - and whenever else sarah wants the company

and maybe he brings sarah to ellie’s school once or twice to pick her up and take her to lunch … or cuz ellie was in an art gallery and the featured piece of the whole exhibit was something she made … or sometimes without sarah when she cuts class and wont tell him why so he just gets her a milkshake and listens to facts about dinosaurs until she agrees to catch the last periodd

christmas is coming up soon and ellie’s excited because she’s gotten them both gifts . for sarah its a couple things - handmade friendship bracelets and a pair of earrings she skipped a week and a half of school lunches for and she painted sarah’s pennyboard with butterflies and crashing waves and a little white moth beside a purple emperor

for joel a huge framed painting of sarah and joel with sarahs grandmother/joels mom who died when sarah was little. joel cooks all her recipes and talks about how much he misses her and says stuff like “she woulda loved you, ellie” so she’s confident he’ll love it and she knows sarah will too

but ellie gets into a fight at school. it’s not really a bad one by any means but it’s the worst her newest placement has seen and they decide she’s too complicated for them. she cant leave the state but she can leave the city, and she’s out of boston with little to no warning, moved all the way out to a “home for troubled kids” in a shitty town called silver lake all the way in berkshire county and only has enough time to frantically tell joel where to find the gifts — in a garbage bag that her art teacher agreed to hold onto

this new placement is way worse than the old people. at most they’d been neglectful. this home is … freaky . a weird religious cult, some branch of christianity that ellie’s never heard of, and all the kids living there treat the director guy, david, like he’s — well. like hes god.

ellie wants to run away again, but this time, she can call sarah! right? except she’s not supposed to have the phone and david finds that thing immediately, sniffs it out like a bloodhound and takes it from her. he makes a deal with her. if she’s good, she use it once a day to call sarah. if she’s really good she can get it back - but she cant tell any of the other girls. david says ellie is special.

ellie’s… never been special before. its gross, a little, the way david says it, but she cant complain much. he feeds her and none of her foster siblings are violent even though shes the smallest by far. she figures david will want her to do chores or handy work, some free labor and she’ll get to call sarah & joel every day. it’s no big deal

within just 5 days of living there, ellie realizes that is not what david meant when he said to be good.

at first its just the lingering touches. a hand a little too high or too low . staring in that weird too-long way .. he tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear and she feels the dirt on his fingers for hours.

and then. it’s christmas eve and she’s planning her escape (she knows where the phone is, and she’ll make a break for it. her bag is packed and she’s quick) when david brings her into his prayer-room for something.

u can infer what happens, right?

and when she’s on the ground and his hands are on her jeans she sees some metal shining as she thrashes around and something shining catches her eye and she reaches out and grabs it and its some bowl with a heavy weight at the bottom so ellie bashes it into davids skull

over

and over

and over again

until he falls on the ground and she hits him a few more times for good measure

it’s the middle of the night and snowing like a bitch but ellie wanders outside anyway and just sits on the front porch step under the falling snow

she doesnt know how much time has passed before the time the sun starts rising. but when it does she sees a very familiar big grey truck barreling towards her and ellie thinks she must be dead or dying

but sarah is out of the car before it’s even stopped and joel’s yelling at her for it and ellie’s covered in blood thats not her own so she just stands and walks to the car in a trance and figures its either the gates of heaven or actually fucking joel and sarah

(“you didnt call me all day,” sarah says later, when ellie asks about it, “i knew something was wrong.” and her phone had gps and joel had a gut feeling and her social worker had a few too many missed calls so they took it into their own damn hands and showed up for her)

ellie trips and falls and lands in joel’s open arms and sarah hugs her from the side, crowding her until the phantom touches david left behind on her skin are completely invisible

joel applies for guardianship and it is shockingly easy

sarah’s been getting better, too. transfers to the community college so she can stay in the house and ellie’s being homeschooled for a while so they spend even more time together

running out of steam i might come back to this but i was only thinking abt it all bc sarah and ellie being siblings is SOOO important to me … big sister sarah ykwim ….

[lauronk]

Hmm... Maybe an AU fic where ellie is a singer and joel is her bodyguard? Idk

okay so this one i just did as a ficlet but also i could fully see myself coming back and fleshing this out later, it would fit so well into alterationsverse!

chasing all those stars

length: ~1.9k words tags: joel & ellie; alternate universe - modern; brief mentions of attempted assault; brief mention of someone being killed; depression; father-daughter relationship; joel's still the best dad no matter the universe; no beta we die like david

i kind of just jumped into the middle of this one, but like i said, i might come back and make more of it at some point. hope you enjoy!

Ellie doesn’t really remember a time when she wasn’t doing this. Sitting on stage with a guitar, singing songs she scribbled on napkins. First in dive bars, open mic nights, pretty much anywhere that had a microphone and a stool for her to sit on, even places she shouldn’t have been because she was too young. Her voice wasn’t really anything to write home about - she wasn’t gonna be the next Kelly Clarkson - but it was good, and really Ellie’d always had more of an eye to being a songwriter than anything. Plus…she just wanted out of her house, wanted to earn a little bit of pocket money that her foster father couldn’t touch.

But then some record exec had happened to be at an open mic one night at the Mohawk, and before she could blink it felt like Ellie had been swept away to New York to record a demo. And the demo had been well-received, and she’d been given a contract and then she was recording an album, at the grand old age of fifteen. You’ll be the next Taylor Swift, someone had said to her, and then promptly been confused when Ellie had cringed away. She had nothing against Taylor - she had the entire Red (Taylor’s Version) vault on repeat most days- but she couldn’t think of an artist more opposite than herself.

And now here she was, twenty years old, third album almost complete, three Grammys and four People’s Choice awards under her belt, management already gearing up to promote her tour, and Ellie was just…

Exhausted.

She’d bought a house out in Boston that she never got to spend time in because she was always on the road somewhere, doing some promotional appearance, on a tour, filming a music video. Never enough time for herself, barely time to do what she really loved, which was writing songs. Half of this album was songs other people had written, and Ellie felt those songs chafing against her skin every time she sang them.

Ellie’s head rolls along the back of the chair, turning until she’s looking out the studio window to where her bodyguard sits, brow furrowed as he scrolls on his phone.

At least she’s got Joel. Through all the insanity, she’s always got Joel.

He looks up at her now, corner of his lips tilting up when he sees her already looking, and he pushes to his feet when she tilts her head. He moves a bit slower these days - he’s just turned sixty, which is well past the usual age for a bodyguard, but she’s got younger, more scarily muscular men to guard her when she really needs it.

Joel is…he’s like an emotional support blanket at this point, not that she’d ever tell him that.

“You about ready to go, kiddo?”

Ellie sighs and holds out her hands for him to pull her up, which he does obligingly. He’s still strong, even at his age, still could probably hold his own in a fight. Definitely still lethal with a gun when necessary, definitely still willing to kill for her. He’d only had to do it once - and her foster father had really had it coming - but Ellie knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Joel picks up her guitar case before she can and slings it over his shoulder, guiding her out of the rented studio with a careful hand between her shoulder blades. Ellie doesn’t say anything as he loads it in the back of his SUV and opens the back door for her - he never lets her ride in the front - and he starts to drive them back to her penthouse.

She stares out the window, not really seeing their surroundings, until Joel calls her name from the front seat. He’s watching her through the rearview mirror, furrow in his brow.

“Y’alright?”

Ellie blows out a breath, watching the buildings grow taller and taller around them. Nothing against New York, really, she had just never quite pictured herself living here.

“Is it stupid that I’m unhappy?” She asks, looking down at her hands. Her cuticles are already picked raw, so she leaves them alone, instead tugging at a loose thread on her absurdly expensive designer jeans.

“Why would it be stupid?” Joel flicks on the blinker, making a right. In the distance, Ellie can see her building. Her manager had said the penthouse was a good investment, prime real estate, excellent price, secure building. And it was all those things.

But it was also all modern angles, glass, dark furniture meant more to be looked at than sat on, and so many goddamn windows. Two years with it as her primary residence and it still didn’t feel like home. It was like a crash pad instead, a place she was borrowing from a stranger - not somewhere she could see herself living forever.

“Because.” Ellie pulls on the thread even harder. “I’m rich and successful and have the life a gazillion people would kill for. What’s there to be unhappy about, right?”

Never mind that she hadn’t been able to make it work with Cat, or that her friend Riley had been killed by a crazy fan who had broken into Ellie’s last apartment, or that her foster father had tried to swindle all her money and then assault her, and she’d had to watch Joel blow the man’s brains out to save her.

It’s Joel’s turn to sigh. “Just because you're rich don’t mean you don’t have problems. You’re allowed to be unhappy.”

Ellie makes a noise of assent but doesn’t say anything else as they pull into the underground parking of her building. Joel carries her guitar again - and he’s the only one she lets handle it, seeing as how he gave it to her - and then swipes the keycard for the elevator.

It’s not until they’re upstairs, her guitar carefully removed from its case and set on its stand, that Joel nudges her to sit down on the couch. He lowers himself to the coffee table across from her and rubs a hand over his chin. He fixes her with that look that he so rarely gets, the one that says he’s about to make her talk about shit she doesn’t want to talk about.

But Ellie doesn’t stop him, because if anyone’s got the right it’s him. She stopped pretending two years ago that Joel was just her bodyguard and not the closest thing she’s ever had to family, and so had he.

“Talk to me, baby girl,” he says gently, and the knot of anxiety sitting in her chest slowly unravels.

Ellie sucks in an unsteady breath, annoyed to find herself blinking back tears, and she whispers, “I don’t know if I wanna do this anymore.”

Joel doesn’t look the slightest bit surprised by her words, just nods slowly. So Ellie keeps going.

“I always just…wanted to write songs. Didn’t really care about performing them, just needed a way to get all this shit out of me. And it felt like suddenly here I was, given all this,” she waves her hand towards the apartment she hates, “over people who worked way harder and wanted it way more. And I feel like an asshole for not being grateful enough for it, not appreciating it, just wishing I could give it back.”

The tears are flowing freely now, and Ellie digs the heels of her palms into her eyes, pressing until roughened hands encircle her wrist and gently tug.

“You’re not an asshole,” Joel says firmly. “You’re not,” he insists when she starts to shake her head, “and you ain’t allowed to bad-mouth my kid like that.”

Ellie lets out a wet laugh, the same flare of warmth erupting in her chest that she always gets when Joel calls her that. “Sorry.”

He swipes at her cheek with a thumb. “You wouldn’t be the first person to achieve their dreams and find out it ain’t what you thought it would be, Ellie. There’s no shame in admittin’ that. And if it’s makin’ you so unhappy, you can always walk away, baby. All the wealth and fame and awards in the world ain’t worth you bein’ miserable.”

“Walk away to where?” Ellie asks softly, hating how much just the suggestion of it has lifted her spirits already. Logistically, of course, it wouldn’t be that easy - she’s contractually obligated through at least this third album and one more tour in support. But after that?

After that, she could just fucking leave, and the realization makes Ellie feel like she can breathe for the first time in…years.

Joel shrugs. “Dunno, ‘s up to you to figure that out. But –” he hesitates, rubs a hand over his jaw again. “When’s your next big thing? Appearance or anythin’?”

Ellie wants to tease him for not knowing when he’s the one that’s supposed to be escorting her to all these things, but it’s not like she can think of it either, so she pulls out her phone to open her calendar. There’s over two dozen unanswered texts and another ten missed calls, and Ellie’s heart rate spikes even as she ignores them.

“Looks like three weeks from now,” Ellie says slowly. “And that’s the time where I’m supposed to be getting a few more songs down for the album.”

“Well,” Joel scrapes his palms over his thighs, “why don’t you and I take a roadtrip? I ain’t been out to see my brother since last Christmas, and he’s been on my ass about it.”

Right, Joel’s brother. The one with a lawyer wife and a toddler son, who owns a ranch out west somewhere. Ellie’s never met him, despite Joel trying repeatedly to make it happen, but she’s afraid that Tommy won’t like her or won’t think Joel should still be guarding her. And what the fuck would she do then? She can’t lose Joel.

“We can drive out there,” he says coaxingly, reaching forward to shake her knee, “spend a couple weeks relaxin’, you can do all that introspection you ain’t got time for anymore, figure out what you wanna do. Maybe even get some songs written while you’re at it.”

He says the last part teasingly, and Ellie whacks him with a pillow, rolling her eyes. “Never should’ve told you I was blocked,” she mumbles, even as she knows it’s not true. She always tells Joel everything, shit that reporters would kill to find out. He was the first person she came out to - she trusts him more than anyone else.

Joel bats the pillow away and leans down, arms braced on his knees. “We don’t gotta do that, baby. We can figure out some other way, but I just thought…couple weeks out in middle-of-nowhere Wyoming might do you some good.”

Ellie chews her lower lip, mulling it over. The more she thinks on it, the more she likes the sound of it. Even if Tommy and his family don’t like her - despite Joel assuring her repeatedly they would love her - she can at least get a bit of peace and quiet.

“I’ll even let you ride in the front seat,” Joel tacks on, grin pulling at his mouth, and Ellie feels an answering one spread across her own face.

“Swear?”

“I swear,” Joel replies, still grinning, and Ellie sticks out her hand for him to shake.

“Deal.”

thanks for reading!

[codename-adler]

is there any reason why Dan specifically? a lot of the foxes have dad issues, but Dan doesn't show any signs of trying to seek out anything romantic from older men becuz of that. if it were any fox, i feel like it'd be more likely to be Andrew? idk how old Roland is but we know he was older than Andrew, and he's a position of authority just like Wymack. I don't WANT it to be Andrew. I just feel like if it had to be someone, its him, yknow?

hmm not sure how to answer this.

i just transposed my experience onto her, as a hc, for shits & giggles. i never said i based myself on canon? was just vibing.

if i did have to justify it, i’d say the EC kind of could point that way, if you really wanted it to be as close to canon as possible? but i’d don’t! cause it’s just for fun! and not that serious!

as for the Andrew thing, um, i feel like i gotta say something. just as nothing in canon points to Danielle having lingering daddy issues / seeking much older male validation because of her past, neither does Andrew. Roland is what? a few years older, max? legally an adult (which is still BAD, in case i wasn't clear......), but not the way Wymack is, a fully grown man in his forties/fifties. he’s not a dad’s age. no dad potential whatsoever. Roland & Andrew is different than the possibility of Andrew seeking out Wymack. you have to know that. it's not the same at all.

the reason Andrew sought out Roland was not specifically bc of his age, but bc Andrew could be in control and Roland would follow his rules, for the most part. when he would not, Andrew could tie him up, and Roland would let him. if there was an age-related reason, it’d be that Roland is a mature, consenting adult in full possession of his independence. Andrew would be inclined to see that as good (for Roland). Andrew would not consider this as also bad (for himself). Roland has no authority at all over Andrew, though. not according to canon Andrew. he may have been his boss at one point, but Andrew is holding the reins of the situationship. Andrew is the one in control.

so to say that Andrew, specifically, would be the one most likely to seek out much older males is… icky. iffy. yucky. you “don’t want it to be Andrew” and why is that? bc of his past abuse, right? and you know that. you know why. i know i’m probably more on the defensive than i ought to be, but there are already harmful stereotypes in aftg when it comes to queer representations and identities. we don’t need more in fanon. i don’t need more in fanon.

Andrew grew up in foster care without a mom or a dad. if he had daddy issues, he’d most likely have mommy issues too, no? but what did he do to his mommy? killed her. for laying a finger on Aaron. that’s a mommy issue alright, but not a mainstream, freudian one. not the kind we’re talking about here. so why would he develop those with older men in parallel? he actively avoids these types of men because of the abuse he endured at their hands. not just Drake's.

it’s just. awfully close to right down saying Andrew is gay bc he was abused by men as a child. that’s a dangerous, slippery slope.

again! in case it wasn't blindingly clear and glaringly obvious! the Danielle post was about Danielle herself. David Wymack would not and never was involved. David Wymack never even knew Dan harbored these misplaced (misplaced!) feelings. she is taking this one to the grave.

if you come from the perspective of personal experience and you’re projecting too, sorry. i don’t mean to invalidate your feelings or your experience.

i think i’m done now.

tl:dr it wasn’t that serious + it doesn’t need to be made serious. just me and my dad-baggage against the world.

[daflangstlairde-art]

Gladiator (What if I Can't Let Go?) — Part 4 of I Still Feel Alive

Summary: On pawns and queens, rabbits and wolves, and becoming the monsters that haunt us. Or, Leo has developed plenty of pretty good coping mechanisms, he needs to fulfill his quota on the bad ones. Anything to fill the absence that awaits him. Or, “Everything I've ever let go of has claw marks on it.” —David Foster Wallace

—

Chapter 1/17 — Need

Notes: Plot picks up immediately after the ending of Heart to Heart

Chapter Warnings -Codependancy, abandonment issues -Panic attack -Minor canon-typical past/future death -Adrenaline seeking

“Ssssoooo. That all... just happened,” Leo tapped his fingers together, still coming down from... that... whole thing. 

You know, the Thing. 

The ghost had dematerialized. Great for conversations. Leo wasn't even sure if... he was still around–?

Was... wait, was he still around? 

After the whole emotional reflection stuff, the ethereal meet-n-greet with Karai, the flashbang of emotions as... as That happened, the room was quiet. 

Leo had felt his family’s Ninpō, and (somehow) he had known what was happening. And in the same-how, he knew that his family knew that had happened. Considering nobody was sprinting into the room yelling about it (the reasonable response), he assumed they were just as stupefied. 

They probably... also felt all those feelings. The absolute barrage of feelings. Like a cartoon bulldozer of feelings which left the character flattened, and now Leo had returned back to his wonderful fullness. Ahhh, it's good to be 3D again!

But, the point he was trying to make: with all that having just happened, with how barely describable it was given how purely sense-based it was, everything felt... like, a little too real now?

Leo felt pretty dang grounded. He was here. In his body. In his room. He could feel his own heartbeat, could hear his own breathing. Could smell the general scent of home. He felt like he’d had some wonderful catharsis, and now anything felt like... peace. Contentment. Quiet. Like waking up super duper early in the morning after a cuddle pile sleepover with his bros. 

So, of course, Leo’s brain had to ruin it for him. 

“Hello?” he questioned, mentally trying to feel around for the presence he’d gotten so used to it was like breathing. Like he was Velma looking for her glasses, and like he'd gotten so used to seeing with those glasses that now that they were gone–

Leo wasn't panicking. He totally wasn't panicking. He was very calm, he swore! He's the coolest guy around! 

...

That's your cue to say “The SECOND coolest guy”, he tried to prompt, but still. Nada. Quiet.

Too quiet. 

...

“Peepaw?” what other nickname irritated him? What else could Leo say to summon him? 

Look at how calm he was!

“Hey, dude, you're being unfunny,” Leo laughed nervously. He hadn't even moved from the meditation pose yet.

Did he have to meditate? Reconnect? What is going on?

...Did Sensei Leonardo just move on? Is that what happened? Finally accepted death, found his family, found peace, gone, sayonara? 

Is this it?

Is he gone?!

No, no, he can't be gone! He, he can't be, right?!

“No, no, please, I need you,” Leo got up to pace, back, forth, he needed to move. He needed to move because he was shaking and his heartbeat was erratic and he couldn't breathe. “Leo? Sensei? Hey, dude, come on, stop being lame!” Leo demanded, except his voice sounded pathetic–

(“Pathetic,” Krang Prime spat–)

What is wrong with him? Was Leo dying? Was his Ninpō gone with the ghost? Why was he freaking out?! It usually took him, like, a couple minutes to build up to this! Or, or a nightmare, or something! Leo didn't just... snap into a freak-out like this, it wasn't him! 

“Please, please you can't leave, you can't,” and Leo wanted to be firm, he did. He wanted to be a leader and he wanted to be confident, but truth is, he just– he just sounded desperate.

What is wrong with him?

“Please, please, you can't do this,” Leo was– he was crying, he was on the floor and curling into himself, his hands were shaking. The worms were never supposed to be in a can in the first place, who put those worms there?

Why was he begging?

(“You are weak–!”)

“I swear, I, I, you can eat all the noodles you want, you can– we can watch all the dad TV you want, whatever, I– I need you, I can't do this by myself–!” Leo’s voice broke and he gasped for air. He was dying. He felt like he was dying. Everything was ringing.

...And then.

“Shhhh, shh, it's okay bub, it's okay,” ghostly arms wrapping around him, a soft voice, blue, “I’m sorry I scared you, I’m here, I’m here–”

Leo felt like the tension physically bled out of him, as he exhaled in relief, immediately clutching Sensei’s presence like he'd disappear. Because he had disappeared.

“You suck,” Leo sobbed, “Why would you do that? Hm? Hm? Going for the Least Funny reward or something?” he joked, like he wasn't still in the midst of a breakdown that made him feel like he was dying.

The ghost chuckled sadly and rocked back and forth a little, holding Leo tight. There was no heartbeat, no breath, but there was the pressure of a presence. The familiarity of the sensation of his Ninpō, because it was, he was Leo’s Ninpō, Leo didn't know how he knew that but he knew it.

“I’m here, I’m here, it's okay, you can breathe, I’m not leaving you,” the ghost chanted softly. It was so rhythmic, so consistent that Leo could sync his breathing to it. It was familiar. 

Leo clutched onto him like a lifeline, coming down from the second emotional bulldozer of tonight in the shape of this panic attack.

...

...

...

And eventually, when Leo stopped feeling like he was dying, because, still, his lifeline was here...

...They talked.

It was... hard. Like a turtle shell.

Like the rocky ground of the Prison Dimension. Like the Krang’s metal exo-suit.

It was so hard, in fact, that just like those two, Leo did not want to talk about it. He didn't want to think about it. Not... not now. Not yet. 

He wasn't ready yet. 

He just needed some more time.

—

Leo breathed. 

Wow, is this prosthetic made from lead? ‘Cause he sure felt heavy, and he hasn't even put it on yet! 

...

It... Raph’s arm...

...Ugh. Leo dragged a hand down his face. Two seconds awake, and he’s already– okay. Okay, just, one thing at a time. 

He... really didn't feel like getting up. But if you always wait until you feel like it to do something, you won't accomplish anything. 

Even if his shell seemed twice as heavy, today. Even if the To Do list was twice as long. 

...

Well, maybe Leo didn't feel like getting up, today. Just one of those days, you know? What can he say, he's his father’s son. 

But he can already hear voices outside the door. It's so dang early, did a Starbucks open? Damn millenials. 

He huffed a quiet laugh to himself. 

Yeah, maybe he didn't feel like getting up, but he also didn't feel like damming everyone to their death, and he kiiiinda had to get up for that one. 

Donnie may be recently deceased, but there's so many who aren't. Mikey and April will throttle his Hamato spirit if he went and died now, hah. 

...

“...Sensei?” a groggy voice called, and Leo glanced to the side after yawning to see a sleepy Casey having just awakened. The rest of the folk in the room would be soon to follow, no doubt.

“Hey Case,” Leo smiled at him. Hah, look at his hair. It was getting longer! Good for him. 

...Although, ooh, eugho, maybe that was because they kept... having to move bases. Probably didn't have time for hair care. They were constantly moving, these days. Things... really started getting dire.

Donnie’s security systems were a huge safety net for them. And for quite a while, emergency protocol after emergency protocol, they held even after... mm. 

But there's only so much you can prep for. And now, maybe the Krang were getting the hang of things. Maybe it was just their piss-poor luck. It didn't really matter.

Anytime one of the Resistance leaders was taken down, it was a big blow. But they would live past this, too. There was no other option.

At the end (or, well, start) of the day, Leo was still pushing himself up, bracing against the wince that almost popped up, thanks to yesterday’s battle. 

At the end of the day, they still had to get up and get moving. Many may be dead, but many are still alive. 

Casey’s birthday (the one earlier in the year) was coming up. Leo would be a pretty crappy sensei if he gifted him just more grief—he’s gotten enough of that from others. 

“We’re moving again?” the kid rubbed his face, already getting up, ready for action. Leo didn't feel like getting up, but he sure did feel proud of him, boy. It was painful. Casey was such a good kid, so adaptable and determined, and for what?

...Teenager, he was a teenager. When did he become a teenager??? Oh gross Leo was old, way too many years in the Apocalypse– 

“Ye-p,” Leo replied, and up he went, on his feet, adjusting the ill-fitted prosthetic over his shoulder. At least he got some relief tonight, to be able to sleep without it and not fear it will be the death of them all. Probably won't happen again soon, and Mikey said to pay attention to the positives. 

Casey was immediately grabbing his gear, putting it on, moving to wake the others. 

Leo sighed, and joined him. 

There was more to do. There was always more to do.

—

There was an itch under his skin.

There was an animal inside of Leo that had awakened and was now clawing with hunger. Dad’s ramen were good at uuuhhh placating it (REALLY good, wow), but they weren't it. They weren't what he needed.

Weren't what he craved. 

Leo had tried meditating and showering and having a snack. Leo had tried reading comics and watching movies and playing video games. He’d tried talking to his family and stretching and training and playing chess and–

You got the picture, right? He had tried a large variety of things. 

Still, there was something. 

It settled, when he moved and trained and felt the burn in his muscles. It settled, when his heart would pick up and he'd clench his teeth during a particularly tense round of kicking Raph’s butt in combat games. It settled, when those moments from horror movies popped up on screen, the ones that made Mikey scream so hard April fell over laughing at him. It settled, when they went out for patrol, to face a mighty foe (...or just the day’s B-lister). 

So.

Ssssoooo. 

There is a perfectly reasonable and healthy–

Ugh, whatever! Leo didn't care if this was a bad idea. There, he said it. 

He could hear the crowd cheering from here! Yōkai lining the doors of the Battle Nexus. The establishment was practically humming with an energy that made that animal’s mouth water. 

The applause, the thrilled screams, the knowledge of blood and sweat and a rush. 

Leo was barely on the outskirts, ninja-ing in and sneaking around, and still. He could feel the distant edges of that rush, and he knew, yep. 

Yeah, that's where he needed to be.

He couldn't wait. As he approached her office, footsteps silent against the (conveniently, huh, thanks for that) carpeted floor, he felt like Raph after a day of intense working out, waiting for Mikey’s careful ravioli prep. He felt like when he has to drag Donnie off to bed—him, the resident insomniac—because the nerd has found a new super fascinating topic that just can't be put off until tomorrow. A certain fixation.

Anticipation. 

But ugh.

Uuuggghhh. First, he had to play talky chess. Aka: negotiate. Ugh. Boooring. 

It’s–

Yes yes yes, it's important, but that didn't stop it from being boring! 

You suggested this, you deal with it. 

...

Leo blinked, the strange sensation of ghost possession overtaking him. The ever-so-slightly different way that Leonardo held himself within the body. Probably from all those years mastering the art of fighting like an absolute badass.

“Watch and learn, loser,” Leonardo whispered, straightening up. Back and shoulders all proper and balanced, walking with confident strides, in a way that made Leo feel second-hand confidence, wow! Can this guy get any cooler??? 

Not that Leon wasn’t confident and cool. He totally is. But Master Leonardo just had that extra kick to him, you know? That oomph. And he was totally about to crush negotiation! 

“Let's hope so,” he grumbled, knocking sharply at Big Mama’s office door.

Long story short: negotiating was pretty boring. Sure, it was tense, some 5D interdimensional chess with time travel type of mental games happening; but Leo’s heart was elsewhere. All he cared about was ensuring this didn't backfire spectacularly, as his ideas often tended to. 

Leo may be here to do quote-unquote “unhealthy things”, but he isn't dragging his family into it. Threatening Big Mama with “You know if you do literally anything to me, all my brothers will happily come kick your butt and tear this place down, right?” was a pretty good card to pull. They both agreed: involving Leo’s family as little as possible would be ideal. 

(“And nothing with tentacles!” 

A chuckle, “Of course dearie, I wouldn't,”)

He was confident he could pull this off! 

More than that, he needed it to work. 

Because... well, it’s all fine and dandy, being healthy and vulnerable and showing your ugly parts to your loved ones. 

But that made Leo feel, well, vulnerable and ugly. 

(He’d seen his insides and they weren’t pretty. 

There was something wrong and broken with him. It was ugly and he hated it. He wanted to go out in the dead of night and bury it like a reeking corpse.)

But the Battle Nexus? 

Leo could be as fake and flashy as his dramatic heart wanted. He could feel cool, and strong, and awesome and also cool. He could be someone else—someone who was perfect and unbroken. And then he could go home as that good person, son, brother, friend, hero, and pseudo-father! It was a win-win!

In the Nexus, he could be the center of attention, so back home, he didn’t make everything about himself. 

And that way, this... simmering, beastly thing inside him would have an outlet. He couldn't push it away forever, its teeth and nails are sharp. And he refused to lash out at his loved ones.

...And–

And... That. 

Yeah. He hadn't forgotten.

That Thing they’d talked about.

Leo just... didn't want to think about it. Not yet, at least, just, just give him some time. 

He just needed to know, first, that he could handle it. That he won't collapse just from the concept of It. 

First, he had a show tomorrow night to get ready for. 

—

Leo was bravely tolerating his reflection, rubbing on his face... some sort of cream. He actually wasn't completely sure what it's supposed to do, or, like, if it even really worked? But hey, dad had given it to him! 

(Possibly after April had, lovingly, near-throttled Leo for using her products–)

And it just felt nice on his skin! Like, refreshing and soothing. And it smelled nice. And it was nice to do some self-care, insert sparkles, play the Barbie soundtrack. Still missing the luscious blond locks. After everything he's been through!

”Krang Killer,” he suggested to the ghost hanging around. Incorporeal, only visible to him right now.

“...Okay, first off, you didn't kill any Krang–” he rolled his eyes. Buzzkill. That's one of the coolest ones Leo’s thought of so far!

“What about the little one, hmm? I portal-chopped him with the Technodrome!” he argued.

“Almost no one knows they were called the Krang,”

...Ugh, good point. 

“...Okay, fine, hmm.” what’s another cool stage name... “Alien Annihilator,”

“You're in a mood for alliteration huh?” El Fantasma raised a ghostly eyebrow. “Bit xenophobic though, I mean, what if some friendly aliens show up?”

Another good point, dammit.

“Ugh, you're right, we wouldn't want to drive off the friendly aliens–” Leo grumbled, tying on his mask. “Oh, wait, aren't I supposed to wear, like, a costume? I don't have a costume!” tragedy! Worst thing that has ever happened to him! How could he be flashy and cool without a cool flashy costume?! 

“I’m sure Big Mama would have something for you in a ditty,” Phantom Freeloader reassured dryly.

“You think she can also think of a name?” 

“Oh sure, the birthmother of such bangers like Kid Cthulu,” Leonardo drew out.

Leo shuddered. “Euguy, don't talk about birth and Big Mama in the same conversation,” gross. 

He turned around to check himself over a little. 

It was easier to look at himself, at least on good days. 

He had the arm from Donnie which was so super duper cool. He’d washed his mask, so it was a clean blue, just the hue he liked most; long tails trailing down, perfect for dramatic billowing in the wind, hah. Mikey liked to paint the back of his shell, sometimes, like it was now—over the blue filling in the cracks, following their path. Making them be flowy and ornate, instead of jagged; matching them up with the natural pattern of his carapace. Sometimes he added other decorative little details in a whole spectrum of colors, too. 

Currently it was like branches with pink flowers, which was both adorable and looked AWE. SOME. What were they called? Japanese cherry blossoms? Apparently, pink looked AMAZING against his blue, since they were... something something color theory. And the reddish-brown branches complimented his red stripes, and the little yellow flower dots that bees love were yellow to compliment his yellow stripes. 

They’d also decorated Raph’s shell, and the three of them had taken SO many photos, which Donnie had squirreled away to his archive like a gremlin. Leo really had to grill him for copies. 

Complete that with fresh new black wraps that weren't torn and bloodied? His pouches turned into a whole neat utility belt? 

(Donnie had totally copied him on that last part, but Leo had bullied him into claiming that it's because they are twins, so he had permission.)

It all looked sick! If the Nexus watchers didn't think he was supremely cool, they are stupid.

“...What about,” Master Leonardo had been contemplating, “Something in another language? Spanish maybe?” he suggested, and Leo’s eyes, still admiring the art on his back, lit up with an idea. Time to open Google Translate, baby!

—

(Additional notes: I won't be posting all chapters to Tumblr, just this one. The rest will be on ao3.)

[sad-boys-book-club]

"&" Ampersand - A Literary Companion: Intros & Narrators

Hey everyone!

I'm excited to dive deeper into the literary companion I created for Bastille's upcoming project “&”. As you might realize from my previous post, each song has been paired with two books that complement its themes, so I’ll be breaking down why I chose each one of those books for each song.

Let's start with our first gorgeous, chef's-kiss of a track Intros & Narrators.

David Foster Wallace - "Oblivion: Stories"

This one might be a more obvious choice, as Dan’s lyrics explicitly refer to Wallace in the pre-chorus with “David talked about the daily trenches of adult life.” For anyone who might not be familiar with David Foster Wallace, I think most of his work can be a bit intimidating—who wouldn’t feel discouraged when facing the 1,079 pages of Infinite Jest? It gives me tendinitis just to consider the endeavor! But he’s a really talented (although controversial) author and a certified name you’ll see on multiple ‘1001 books to read before you die’ kind of lists.

I first came across his writing when I was still in university (Journalism grad here), when an overly excited J02 professor claimed that Consider the Lobster had changed his outlook on post-modernist literature. At the time, I was a bit skeptical—all I’d heard were jokes about hipsters carrying copies of Infinite Jest without ever reading it—so I did some digging into who this highly regarded author was. Not to take up much of your time, dear reader, so if you’re interested in learning more about him, I recommend checking out the movie The End of the Tour, which follows David Lipsky (Jesse Eisenberg), a reporter with Rolling Stone magazine, as he interviews DFW (brilliantly played by Jason Segel) during his book tour. It’s a bit of a depressing watch though, as Wallace struggled with depression, alcoholism, drug addiction, and suicidal tendencies, which eventually ended in him ending his own life.

Anyhow, back to Bastille and some less depressing topics.

The reference in "Intro & Narrators" is a direct reference to David Foster Wallace‘s 2005 commencement speech to the graduating class at Kenyon College. The speech is long, definitely worth reading in its entirety, but if I could pick one single bit that feels the most relevant it is as follows:

“Probably the most dangerous thing about an academic education—at least in my own case—is that it enables my tendency to over-intellectualize stuff, to get lost in abstract argument inside my head, instead of simply paying attention to what is going on right in front of me, paying attention to what is going on inside me. As I’m sure you guys know by now, it is extremely difficult to stay alert and attentive, instead of getting hypnotized by the constant monologue inside your own head (may be happening right now).”

The speech ended up becoming the posthumously published book This Is Water, however, I think Wallace's third and last short story collection, Oblivion: Stories (which I’m now wondering if it inspired the band’s Oblivion too), feels like a much better choice thematically and might be a better introduction to Wallace’s body of work. Just like the song, these short stories delve into the unreliable nature of our perceptions and the complex narratives we construct about our lives. Wallace's verbose, complex, convoluted style (including a bunch of words you might have to search online, at least, I did) works really well in those short stories, and is a sort of joke into the whole idea of an "unreliable narrator"—I think he’d argue that no one can be actually reliable when it comes to speaking about ourselves.

Aparna Nancherla - "Unreliable Narrator: Me, Myself, and Impostor Syndrome"

A lighter read, because life is all about finding a balance between existential musings and humor, Nancherla's book is a candid exploration of personal identity, mental health, and the ever-present impostor syndrome. Aparna Nancherla, a stand-up comedian and actress known for her roles in BoJack Horseman, Master of None and The Standups (also, for publishing a lot of essays on the New York Times), brings her unique voice to a collection of essays that tackle personal identity, mental health, and the ever-persistent specter of impostor syndrome.

Imagine a painfully timid person thrust into the limelight, grappling with a skyrocketing career and the gnawing fear that everyone will soon discover she’s a total fraud. That’s her reality, and she shares it with a raw vulnerability that is both touching and hilariously relatable. As a South Asian woman navigating the overwhelmingly white, male-centric world of comedy, Nancherla’s insights are as sharp as they are entertaining. Be warned, though, you'll laugh, yes, but you’ll mostly find yourself nodding along, recognizing some of the truths she unearths about self-doubt, mental health and the human experience.

With a background in Psychology, Nancherla doesn’t just present her experiences; she backs them up with research, adding depth to the whole thing. There’s a saying that comedy is the refuge of the chronically sad, and Nancherla embodies this paradox perfectly (as do, famously, a lot of stand-up comedians—Bo Burnham’s pandemic-inspired Netflix special Inside, immediately springs to mind). Stand-up comedy can often create the illusion that comedians are perpetually happy-go-lucky individuals, effortlessly tossing out jokes right and left in their day-to-day life. That is so far from the truth. You’ll find most of them are actually perfectionists with a capital P and little control freaks, obsessing over every word and timing to make sure their jokes land perfectly (this is not a dig at comedians, the same can be said for any other creative profession: writers picking out the perfect dialogue, actors who go method to embody a character, musicians who just can’t seem to stop tinkering with a melody…). 

Why does this book pair so well with this song, you ask? Well, both Nancherla and the song delve into the concept of being unreliable narrators of our own lives, often judging ourselves more harshly than anyone else ever could. The struggle of introverts in the public eye, the tug-of-war between creating art and performing a persona—these themes echo through Nancherla’s essays and Bastille’s lyrics. 

That's it for this one. Stay tuned as I continue to break down each song and its literary companions. I hope these pairings enhance your listening (and reading) experience.

Feel free to share your thoughts and any other book suggestions as well!

With love,

Cat

[chaosnightmare]

fire emoji shadow´s characterisation

ohhhh my god hydrogen bomb of an ask okay

shadow's character was not "derailed" until the 2010s, in some cases not even then. shth did not kill shadow's character he actually stayed pretty consistent throughout the game (with a few exceptions, most of which are localization problems) and for years onwards

shadow's characterization in sonic chronicles was actually a lot of fun, a long time ago i reblogged a post that said it was awful because i had never played the game before and didn't know any better and i regret it daily because i really really like it actually

shadow's new characterization is NOT "fun in its own way" imo its literally unacceptable and so unbearable it keeps me from revisiting some things he's in

shadow has always been edgy shth didn't change literally anything about his style it just gave him a gun and let him curse

i like his writing more in sonic prime than i did in sonic x and we havent even seen him for that long in prime

i don't like that new writers try to pretend like sonic and shadow were enemies this whole time and are coming to terms with eachother because they literally were not enemies before they changed everything. i think it ties somewhat into the new notion of shadow not having any friends because its kind of hard to have a deathmatch rivalry with a guy you have mutual friends with but i don't like it i don't really think its cute or funny it's just a kick in the teeth to people who cared enough about these characters before they went wacko bizarro twilight zone mode with everything to know that somethings off

HE DOES NOT LISTEN TO SWIFT i do not CARE how gay it makes him sound

i don't really like when people assert that shadow was all polite and calm before shth like in sa2 theres the part where he realizes rouge is trapped and runs back to rescue her, but before he has his flashback his intial reaction is to laugh and keep walking

he was better when humphrey voiced him. i know that means less than nothing coming from the guy who is REALLY normal about david humphrey but he just did his emotions and cadances better idk

i don't like when either official media or fan media gives him weird "but thats my family" feelings about the black arms. probably mostly out of projection (i think its badass that he just kills them like its NOTHING) but they weren't even family to him in the shth endings where he sides with them. black doom sort of acts like that but thats solely because he's attempting to foster a sense of belonging in shadow to further isolate him and continue radicalizing him. why are we acting like its noble or angsty somehow

okay sorry. hi

[grippingbeskar]

salt, ice and fire | frank castle

chapter nineteen - proper representation

frank castle x reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of death, description of injury, canon typical violence

a/n: OKAY. i am so sorry with how long this has taken. finals are literally eating my ass and not in a good way. but it feels so good to write SOMETHING FINALLY. i forgot how much i <3 this series. thx for sticking with me pals xx. enjoy!!!

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Seven hours is a long time. Mostly, Frank thinks of you.

He can’t stop thinking about you— it’s been months since he’s had a thought that you haven’t been attached to in some way. Even when he thinks of the kid strapped in the back seat, it’s because he knows you. But, in seven hours of open road and the persistent pain in his gut at the way you left, anyone’s brain would drift.

He has no idea why he did it. Why he took your brother, why he bothered. Why he thought he’d be any better than the random group home he’d get stuck into, or the foster family that would forget about him within the week and lock him in his room, trading one shit hole for another. He can’t help but think of Billy— the Billy he knew, not the one he pulled a trigger on. That Billy he hadn’t known, hadn’t cared about.

But the old Billy, his friend. The one who dragged him out of the mud more times than he could count, the one his wife used to set a place at the table for, just incase he needed some place to eat. That Billy, who’s group home cared so little they didn’t notice they’d hired a pedophile to foster little boys.

He couldn’t let them take the risk. Your brother had been through enough— the dark rings around his eyes, a faint green bruise on his cheek, Frank hated that he saw some similarity in his own face, knowing the force they’d have to of hit him with. Maybe that’s why he offered to take Sam back with him, look after him for God knows how long, because you needed him safe, and then you’d come home to him.

With all that, knowing he’d probably done the right thing, he couldn’t get rid of the sick feeling twisting up his throat every time he glanced into the rear view mirror. Sam was staring out the window, blinking hard in an attempt to keep his eyes open. He looked like you, but only because Frank had spent so much time staring at your face. You must look like your mother, because this kid had different eyes, a different face, similar only in subtle ways someone who really knew you would see.

Frank liked kids. He never had issues with David’s kids— probably got too involved with them, if he was honest. Then there was Amy, but she wasn’t much of a kid. More of a teenager, but he never really figured out he actual age with all the damn fake ID’s she had. Either way, she’d been like a kid to him. He had a soft spot for them, it was always where he had give. So why does this make him sweat? Is it because the rest of those kids all had families of their own? Had ways of getting on without him, not actually his responsibility? None of them looked to him for shelter, for food, for the normal shit only parents gave their kids. No one looked at him like that anymore, until Sam had wandered up to him and asked if he could pull over at a Burger King on the way out.

It was the simplest thing, but he’d just come up and asked him and the whole thing felt like a punch in the face. He couldn’t be that anymore. He didn’t have it in him. He couldn’t take care of something. He couldn’t help. Maybe he should of just let them take the chance and—

“Burger King.” Sam mumbles into his palm, other hand pointing to the side of the road where the faint red and yellow lights lit up the burger place. Frank says nothing, hasn’t for about 4 hours now, just indicates off the road and pulls into the first parking spot.

It’s getting dark now, but the twenty four hour sign is faintly flashing over head. Sam’s already halfway out the car when Frank finishes running over all the risks of pulling the car over here and now, but the kids been through enough, and Frank doesn’t have the heart to say no. When he gets inside, Sam is standing at the door. Waiting for him.

“Go on.” Frank points at the counter, and Sam hesitates. He knows he must be starving, but he still just stands at the door, looking between the counter and Frank.

“I don’t know what to do.” He says in the smallest voice, and the way he looks at him, to him— “I’ve never been inside one before.”

“T’s alright. Go sit down, I’ll get you something. What do you like?” Frank bends a little so the kid could hear him. He wasn’t short, but Frank didn’t want to talk loud and embarrass him. He doesn’t really know why he cares.

“Lots of pickles. And mustard.” He smiles, and then goes and sits down in one of the booths. The fact Frank got through the interaction without fucking it up spurs him on a little, and he orders a burger with as many pickles as they can stack on it.

When he brings it over to him, Sam is staring out at the sky, head bouncing back and forth like he’s watching a tennis match, following the cars passing by. Then he must smell the food, because he all but jumps the table, grabbing the burger Frank slid over and taking the biggest bite out of it he can fit in his mouth.

“Slow down. You’ll choke.” Frank says, and something in his stomach twists at the words. So familiar— he remembers it was you he said them to at that diner he always went to back in the day.

“Sorry.” Sam muffled through the chips he’s shoving down his throat now, and Frank can’t help but laugh a little at the sight. As much as it pulls at him that this kid is probably eating so fast cause he’s not used to being fed regularly, he’s just glad he’s out. It comes at a cost, though, and thinking about you, Frank isn’t sure there’s any price he’d be willing to pay not to have you here.

They eat in silence, mainly because Sam doesn’t take a breath in between gulps of a giant soda and heaps of burger and fries, but really it’s because Frank can’t look at him. Doesn’t know what to say to him. It doesn’t seem to bother Sam though, who, like you, even with all the shit he must have seen and been through, is as resilient as ever.

“So, what’s the plan?” He asks after a giant mouthful of soda.

“What?” Frank croaks, voice strained from silence.

“The plan? To get Bobby?” Frank scoffs at this, but then realises the kid is serious.

“The plan is to keep you out of trouble.”

“That’s bullshit.” Sam crosses his legs and faces Frank fully. “You have to help me go back. And to get her.”

“I’m handlin’ it, alright? Eat your burger.” Sam’s eyebrows furrow, and he looks younger when he does it; tilting his head and scowling.

“I know you want to. I saw you…” Frank sighs, thinking about going back up and getting the kid another burger so he shuts up. “I saw you kiss her.”

“Jesus Christ.” Frank shakes his head and looks out the window again.

“You did.” He says it with his face screwed up, a little bit of childish disgust, but mostly determination. “You’re going back for her. I want to help.”

“You let me worry about that.” Sam copies him, shaking his head and looking out the window. If it wasn’t such bad lighting in here, Frank might have sworn he saw a tear in the kids eye, but it was swiped away too fast. The guilt eats at him a little. “Look, the reason she did all this shi— stuff, in the first place, is to get you out and make sure you were safe. The last thing I’m doing is dragging you back there. I’ll handle it.”

“I just want to help her like she helped me.” His voice was small again, and Frank swallows the feeling of guilt that bubbles up his throat. “She… she did a lot of bad things, didn’t she? To get me out?”

“Nothin’ they didn’t force her to.” Frank looks at the table, eyes finding anywhere else to concentrate on.

“Is she in trouble?” Clearing his throat, Frank thinks about how they shoved you in that car in handcuffs. He trusted Madani, but also knew her loyalty didn’t lie with him. “Cause of the things she did?”

“She’ll be fine.” He doesn’t say anything else. He just has to trust that what he’s done is enough. They both walk back out to the car in silence, and this time, Sam gets in the front seat. Shuffling around with whatever trash was on the floor, he bends down and picks something up, and Frank doesn’t see it right away until he puts them on.

Even though it’s pitch dark outside, Sam slides those stupid sunglasses you made him buy months ago onto his face, and drifts off to sleep in the same spot you had a million times over. Frank nearly splits the skin on his knuckles holding onto the steering wheel, pulling off the highway and heading toward you.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I thought there’d be more questioning, less pacing.” You say to Agent Madani, and she looks at the door for the hundredth time, like she’s waiting for something. “Is something wrong here?”

“Beside the fact I have a known fugitive stowed away in one of the most secure facilities in the world? Nothing at all.” She was stressed. Pacing around the table, and looking at the door like she’s expecting someone to walk through it.

“You could just let me go.” She sighs. The last thing she should want right now is company, so what was she waiting for? She needed you to save her ass, be the missing link to why she had all this information. Why she showed up at Silo, how she knew about today, how she found the house you were at. All of it needed to be connected, and you were the missing link, and yet ever since she marched you through the back door of this building, she hadn’t asked you a single question.

“Never on time.” She sighs under her breath.

“What?” Madani stops pacing.

“We have to wait.” She says, leaning back.

“Wait for what?”

“Just…” She marches toward the door. “Stay here. I need to make another phone call. If anyone knocks—“

“Kill them?” You hear her sigh again before the door clicks shut. Looking around the room, the long table stretches before you. No other chairs on your side, but opposite you, there’s three.

A little part of you sparks to life, the part infused with Franks backward lessons of looking at every room you walked into like it would be the last one you saw. You could feel your face pulling with concentration, trying to take as much in as you could in the seemingly plain room. Frank never so much as flinched, didn’t even blink or think twice and still managed to be ten steps ahead of everyone in the room. But Frank wasn’t here, and you knew for a fact those chairs weren’t going to be for him.

Three chairs. Why would Madani set this room up with three chairs? You were on a wanted list, she couldn’t exactly plan a public meeting with you and anyone else, let alone sit across from you while the entire CIA sat outside waiting on orders to kill you. She’s waiting for someone. Two someone’s. Security?

The click of heels outside the door snap you to focus. Two sets of heels— not security, unless the CIA is hiring. There’s another sound, one that you can’t exactly place. You close your eyes, trying to tap into whatever enhancement is running through your veins, but then the door swings open and locks again faster than you can put together, like the people who were now inside were shoved in.

Eyes wide open, it takes a second for your body to come out of defence mode. Madani is in front of you, and there’s two more people now, the first you know well, and the other familiar.

“Karen?” Your eyes squint, like you’re not sure what you are seeing is real. It’s been a long fucking day… why the hell would she be here of all places? “And… you. I met you.”

“Under worse circumstances.” The man says, his cane tapping around the room while Karen walks behind him, offering you a sympathetic smile. “Matthew Murdock.”

“Nice to meet you?” Your voice is a little higher pitched than normal, only because you were fucking confused. Frank had said something about this guy before… “I think I’m out of the loop here. I had the impression you were going to… arrest me.”

“I never wanted that.” Madani says.

“Well the handcuffs your officers put me in seemed to say otherwise.” She sits down on the left, Matthew in the middle and Karen on the right. “What is this supposed to be.”

“You have a lot of powerful friends.” He says, and you scoff. “Agent Madani called me a few weeks back. She thinks I can help you and your brother. If you’re willing to work with me.”

“And work with you would involve…” Your chest tightens, and he reacts as if he can see how you’ve frozen up, shaking his head.

“Not like that. I’m a lawyer. I want to clear your name.” There’s a moment of silence, and then you stifle out a laugh.

“A lawyer?” You look to Madani. “Could you not have told me that’s what we were doing here?”

“There’s about 400 people in this building that want you dead. The rest of them want to throw you and your brother in a hole for the rest of your life. If I had even suggested bringing you in for a fair trial, it would of set off yet another group of angry men vying to tear you apart. And anyone around you.” Sitting back in your chair, you let out a long breath. “Frank suggested it.”

“Really?” She nods in a way that suggests he hadn’t just asked, he’d forced her hand.

“You have a right to be represented. Even if they wanted to trial you for the death penalty—“ You swallow the tiny amount of fear that shoots up your throat “—which they won’t, they need to do it properly. Your brother hasn’t done anything wrong. They can’t touch him without going against basically every human rights law they protect. Even going after you, with the story you have…”

“Yeah. I get it.” You look up and blink a few times, and Matthew nods, leaning into Karen as a silent suggestion to take over.

“Matt can help you. I’ve seen him do it. He helped Frank… me, too.”

“You?”

“Once.” Your eyebrows raise, and you nod. Maybe impressed isn’t the right word for it, but you think you’ve miscalculated the kind of person she is, and it only makes you like her more. “You aren’t a bad person. If you can get in front of a jury, tell them about your brother… about your family.”

“You helped the CIA’s investigation, and we can use that to reduce whatever sentence they want to stick you with.” Matt continues, putting a bag on the desk.

“Unofficially.” Madani reminds him, and he smiles.

“Not anymore.”

“You can make sure they don’t touch my brother?” You lean over the table a little, and both Matt and Karen turn back to you.

“I know I can.” That is enough for you, so you’re surprised when he keeps talking. “He’ll be safe, but I think I can make it easier for you, too. You can have a life after all this. The one you should of had from the beginning.”

There was a time where you thought you knew exactly what your life would be. You thought you’d die doing something you hated, trying to kill someone for Bobby or whoever came after him. There wasn’t a life you pictured, and even when you’d dared to hope, the only one you could think of was spending the rest of it scared as shit someone would come after you or Sam. A life looking over your shoulder.

There was so many things that were different now, the past six months had changed everything. You’d seen your brother now, spoken to him. Now, you were being offered more— a life, maybe something more than a few short paranoid years. Your throat felt tight and you tried to look anywhere you couldn’t see your own reflection.

When he’d said you could have a life, you looked away from yourself instantly, because the first thing you’d thought of— as selfish as it was, was the life you could have with Frank. One full of nights like the few you had shared. Even paranoid and running, a life of that would be worth all this if it was with him.

Karen called your name, and slid over a piece of paper you made no sense of.

“I don’t… have any money.” Embarrassing as it is, you know people like this cost big, and you don’t think you’ve ever had more than $20 to your name.

“If I was in this job for the money, I’d be in the wrong business.” He smiles, handing you a pen. “Don’t worry about it. This is just a paper that says you’re willing to be represented by me.” You sign the paper, writing the letters of your name slowly and in print.

“Okay. Now what?” Sliding the paper back over to him, he turns to Madani.

“You were expecting questions?” She says, and pulls out a laptop along with about twelve case files that all have the word UNSOLVED printed in red ink. “You can start here.”

She hands you one file, and when you open it, the date reads about seven years from today. If you thought today was a long day, it was about to get a whole lot longer. She starts asking questions about where you were, what you did that day, and you answer as best you can, but all you can really think about is is that little ember of hope resting deep in your stomach, and how it slowly catches fire with each passing minute.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Don’t answer that.” Matt says from beside you now, and Madani sighs. “What?”

“Again? Seriously?” She says, and he keeps his head up, listening as his hands run along the braille of the files Karen has converted. They have been going at this for hours while Madani asked you every question under the sun. “I’m asking if she killed him. It’s a yes or no answer.”

“She was coerced, and by that timeline she would have been 16 years old. You’re going to charge a 16 year old who was being held captive and threatened with her only family members life with murder?” He never stops reading through the file, and once he hears Madani take yours front in front of you, he slides it away and grabs the next one.

“Let’s do something more recent then, shall we?” She slides another file to you, and you recognise it instantly. So does Karen. “Gus Daley. Murdered behind 3rd Street just three months ago. About the time you were working with the Colonel.”

“For him. Working for him. And lets not mix our words. The man’s name was Connor Flannery, and he was not a Colonel.” You can’t help but smile a little bit at how fast he was with this. You liked Madani, but you knew her loyalty couldn’t lie with you, so it was nice to have someone on your side out here.

“Fine. This was when Connor Flannery was forcing you to work for him?” When you hear no objections from Matt, you nod. 

“Yes.” The little camera she had set up blinks in recognition, and the only other sound is Karen shoving papers along the table. 

“What happened?” The last time you saw this man was in a service station, his lifeless corpse on the front page of a newspaper Frank was looking at. You remember you had expected him to look at you with disgust, and how he hadn’t even flinched.

“He wanted him dead, and gave me a date and a time. It was very structured with him. He planned the whole thing. Where to go, when, how he wanted it done.” Madani nods, listening intently. 

“How many jobs did he send you on?”

“Eight or nine, I think.”

“You think?”

“She clearly wasn’t in a right state of mind. She didn’t even know the man’s name before I told her. Flannery and Bobby Gnucci did everything except get their hands dirty.” Matt says.

“And when you found out that they were working together? What did you do then?” An image of The Colonels body in the woods is shoved in front of you— Karen’s article that bought you the precious seconds of time to get to your brother.

“I bolted as soon as I got the chance.” Okay, not entirely true. It took some convincing on Franks part to get you to leave, and when you found out you killed him. But you can’t imagine that’s going to look great for you right now, so you leave it at that.

“The article says what happened to him. I wrote it myself.” Karen says, and Madani turns her attention off you for the first time in hours.

“Thanks to a photo from an anonymous source, correct? I know it wasn’t anyone in this room that sent that photo, and I’m inclined to think Frank Castle had something to do with it.” At the mention of him, your chest tightens again. “You two were close. I can’t imagine you’d question him too much if he came to you and told you what happened. Even if you didn’t think it was true. Maybe even write an article— just because he asked. You’d do just about anything for him, wouldn’t you?”

It’s like you are interrupting something. Everyone here knows each other better than you do— you know a little about what they’ve all been through together, but if Agent Madani knows enough about Karen and Frank…

“I write the truth. Always.” Karen’s also a better liar than you pegged her for.

“How is any of this relevant, Agent?” Matt chimes in, and you don’t have to look back to hear the smirk in his voice. “You’ve got what you wanted now, right? She’s told you everything she knows— more than enough to convince a jury she was working with you well before she got her brother back. If this has to go to trial—“

“If?”

“I’m a reasonable man. We can make a deal, or we can drag this through court. I don’t know how well your new colleges will react to you working behind their back, though. I don’t want to risk you being invited to Friday night drinks, right?” Matt stands.

“What are you suggesting?” Madani says, and Matt smiles.

“I’ll let you know after I’ve discussed with my client. For now, I think there’s a kid who’d like to see his sister.” Karen opens the door, and when Matt walks through it you realise you’re still frozen in your seat.

“Go.” Agent Madani says, blowing out a frustrated breath. You stand, but instead of walking out the door you turn to face her.

“I want to say thank you.” Your voice is quiet— tired as hell. There’s still blood on your fingernails when you stick out your hand to shake hers. “For everything you did for my brother. And me. You didn’t have to do all of this, and I know how much you’re risking. I owe you.”

“No, you don’t.” She takes your hand, shaking it once. “I spent a long time doing the wrong thing for the wrong people. I like being the good guy for once.” For some reason that makes you smile. You— the good thing?

“Still. I owe you.” She reaches into her bag after you finish and hands you something.

“Now we’re even.” Before you can look at what she gave you, she’s walking out the door, brushing past Matt. “Don’t call me unless you have a good deal.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” She scoffs and disappears into the now dark hallway, and it must be the middle of the night now because all the lights are off and the window of the room you’re in is pitch black. “You ready?”

Nodding, you follow them out, finally looking down at what Madani gave you.

A small black square— exactly like the burner phone Frank has, and when you turn it on, there’s only one number on it. You don’t even blink before you hit call.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

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[averbaldumpingground]

Dialogue Prompt: "That is way above my pay grade."

It had seemed like such a good idea on paper when Darcy had told her, armed with her nice curling iron and that one dress from the absolute back of Jane's closet that had been hanging there, still in its dry cleaner plastic, since probably some time in the Cretaceous Period judging by how many mom jeans and flannels Darcy had had to excavate past just to find it, that they were going out. An excellent idea, really. An absolute stroke of pure genius.

And, more importantly, her brilliant plan had been working. Jane, pleasantly tipsy, was actually making friends.

Well, one friend. One very easy on the eyes male friend. Who had been totally okay with Jane interrupting his pool game to lecture him and like half the bar about physics or applied geometry or something. Darcy didn't know, but it sounded smart and very Jane-after-two-shots-of-tequila, so it probably still made sense. To people with a bajillion graduate degrees. Or engineers or something.

But Darcy didn't need to understand. She could totally tell that Mr. Tall, Somewhat Bewildered, and Probably-a-Pool-Shark was into it. Like really into it.

And sure, the dude had been wearing some kind of shapeless JC Penney funeral suit, but he was hot. Like really hot but kind of trying not to be. It wasn't working. Darcy still knew he was hot. Because she knew these things. Better than physics or quadratic equations or whatever.

The stranger in the creepy flasher trench coat she sat next to had just nodded. So he had probably agreed. Or been confused. He'd looked a little confused. But Darcy didn't mind. She was so right and she knew it.

And Jane knew it too. Because she was actually flirting!

Or, well, she was talking about gamma arrays. And something about nucleuses. Nucleii. Nuclice? Those tiny little atom thingies that blew up. Yeah, those!

Flasher Dude just blinked at her and kind of cocked his head. So okay, Darcy was drunk enough to narrate these things out loud. It was fine. Totally fine. And Jane showing interest in a guy was worth like a whole David Attenborough documentary's worth of narration. Well a guy who--

And that's when it happened. Because apparently Darcy had jinxed them by thinking about it.

"Really, Foster? The GRETA project? That's how you start talking dirty?"

Darcy groaned. Just one night. Just one frigging night.

"But the structural advancements--"

No. Not this again. Darcy really didn't even want to hear it. She banged her head against the bar. Mr. Probably Drives a White Van poked her shoulder. He looked concerned. Or maybe constipated. Darcy didn't know and didn't want to find out and--

"--really so pedestrian of you. The readings out of Cheyenne--"

"--Uh, Jane, was it? I think I'm probably--"

"--but germanium provides a--"

--just gonna go now?"

The hot guy had set down his pool cue. Nooo! This wasn't how the evening was supposed to go. Darcy had checked both their lab schedules. She knew she did. Overly Pedantic Jerkface was supposed to be babysitting the freshman astrology section tonight. Astromony? Astromasomething. That thing where they stayed up past 2 and--

"Man, that is way above my paygrade."

Hot Guy had gotten his jacket. And Jane hadn't even noticed. No, not even a little. Because she was glaring daggers at Overly Pedantic Jerkface, still in the center of the bar, the two of them openly doing that thing, where they were whisper shouting and stupidly close and Jane was waving her arms in his face. Something something Berkeley blah blah blah Dr. Whatsherface said-- Darcy was very much done.

And the worst of it was that she wasn't even surprised. Nope. Not a little. She had been totally on track to finally getting Jane laid. Which Jane really, really needed.

But then of course he showed up. Of course.

Darcy turned her head, the sticky mojito residue plastering her hair to her cheek. She sighed. Even the trench coat guy had left.

"--the long term implications of--"

She sighed again, signaling for another of whatever was the last thing the bartender had given her.

It was going to be a terrible night.

[sir-yeehaw-paws]

Thinking about Les Enfants Terribles again and how much I’d love to do a proper meta on Zero sometime if I can wrap my head around what I think he’s like a person vs what little we get of him as a whole. Because there really is just something so incredibly sinister about that whole thing, from start to finish.

Like, the whole thing is absolutely monstrous even on a surface level, but it’s this bit here that has me thinking, repeatedly, “Wow, people, be they children or adults, mean absolutely nothing to Zero as people.” If anyone sees people as tools, then I believe Major Zero would be firmly up there.

Now granted, in another post I’d like to point out he like every other character is much more complicated than that, and I do think he has some genuine feeling towards other people, but his obsession with Snake is..something else. And unlike say, Ocelot, I can’t even explain it away with something as (far easier IMO) as romantic interest and personal obsession within that. Because while Zero does think of Snake as a friend (and says so in his own private tape), he’s ultimately so desperate to keep whatever makes Snake, ‘Snake’ the perfect soldier, the ultimate weapon alive that the consequences and body count apparently matters little in the end.

Honestly, even the project title is..hardly encouraging.

That’s one way to put it, Ocelot.

Enough so that the project was considered ‘unsustainable’ and thus abandoned, after what I’m going to assume was the creation of Solidus. We know Solidus (George) was created sometime after Eli and David were. But I’m of the belief that it takes a very..particular mindset in the first place to be so desperate for someone to, essentially, procreate, that they use their DNA without their consent, suffer the trials of multiple failed subjects and then don’t even bother to make sure that the RESULT of that project (aka living, breathing human beings) are even properly cared for and looked after.

Because no. Zero does not make sure the boys are kept safe. At all.

In varied foster homes, yes. Now I know damned well that not all foster care is bad. But David himself alludes to having something of an unstable upbringing. And I don’t understand why Zero bothered separating them to begin with, but that’s another thing.

And speaking of Eli,

When Eli disappears nobody, especially not Zero, bothers to find him. They fully, willingly left a child that they created with the express purpose of one day fulfilling the goal of the perfect soldier, and even at this point just a KID, vanishes. And nobody does a THING about it.

Eli has super strength, an attitude and speaks two or three languages. But he’s also still TWELVE YEARS OLD. Meanwhile the most Zero could be bothered was to put David in various homes in the USA, and wait until he turned 18. Knowing full well that he’d probably end up in the military.

Maybe Zero figured that if Eli survived, it’d be a testament to the project at large, and a sign of how ‘successful’ it was. But that doesn’t change the fact that he just lets these kids that only exist because of HIS desires for perfect soldiers, get abandoned.

(It’s interesting to me too that the only other people we know to be on par with this kind of belief about people is Dr. Clark, though we never hear her thoughts on it, and Huey, who goes on and on to Venom Snake about how ‘much of a loss’ it’d be if Snake’s genes ‘died with him’. That’s the kind of moral ground Zero appears to be working on.)

The most detailed information regarding Les Enfants Terribles comes from MGS4, (see here, though there are no subtitles, please refer to this video to cross reference the points I make below). We know from the description Eva gives to Solid Snake in this briefing that the project was:

Designed to create the ‘perfect clone’ of Big Boss. Whom was seen as ‘the ultimate soldier’.

There were dozens of failures.

The successful egg came from ‘Dr. Clark’s assistant, a healthy Japanese woman’.

Eva willingly offered to surrogate.

I want to put some emphasis on that as well. The woman who contributed her egg to the project is never once mentioned in game by name. Now, granted, an egg donor can choose to be anonymous, but it ends up looking like Zero cares so little about people as people that who the donor is here hardly matters, as long as the end result is his perfect soldiers.

Furthermore, I’d like to refer to the MGS Fandom Wiki’s Entry on the Les Enfants Terribles Project, for some added information, namely:

It wasn’t enough for Zero and those involved to create the clones in the first place, but they had to make damned sure that those clones would never be given the freedom or autonomy of making decisions about something like reproduction, or about the kind of life they could live where they have the ability to grow, mature, and enjoy their time naturally. Because they were essentially programmed with self-destruct terminator genes to keep them from being a threat. Zero didn’t just have clones made, Zero had clones made that would eventually self-destruct and never make children of their own, because these fundamentally are not people to him, and they never were.

Nobody even TELLS David this, mind you. Now granted Zero is fully unable to communicate by the time David learns about the existence of Les Enfants Terribles, and Liquid didn’t know about the rapid aging either. Solidus somehow found out on his own. In the end, an aging David is left with Otacon to figure out the truth for himself. Going through a battery of Dr’s tests and hospital visits until they are able to put the pieces together.

Zero created, abandoned, and ultimately completely used and destroyed three people (and destroyed the trust and relationship he had with Big Boss) all for..what? To have perfect soldiers that, in the end, never accomplished what he wanted in the first place. Which if anything else is some karma for the man.

What Zero DOES care about, is control.

His specialty is controlling information, but in the same tape he tells Ocelot matter-of-factly, that if someone does find Snake, he’ll deal with them. And the tone of his voice is enough to imply that he means violently.

Liquid is defeated by David. Solidus is defeated by Raiden and David himself goes against being a soldier entirely and turns to destroying the war economy and most if not all of what it stands for. David dies, but so do the Patriots.

I’d also like to point out that Zero’s inability to see people as people appears to extend beyond the children, and while it might seem out of place in this essay, if I ever do go into my attempted meta of Zero’s character, I think it bears some mention.

It’s how Zero talks about Venom.

THAT’S AN ENTIRE GODDAMNED PERSON ZERO!! THAT IS A HUMAN BEING!! THAT IS AN ENTIRE! PERSON!! A COMATOSE! PERSON!

It’s also VERY interesting to me how subtly manipulative Zero is towards Ocelot in this tape.

So much to think about there. Another time.

It’s also telling to me that, for all Big Boss doesn’t like the kids, he still has more grace regarding them than Zero does. He does say what they are is sick, but he also makes sure Ocelot knows he still thinks of them as humans, and wants them treated as humans.

The tone of these tapes cannot be adequately conveyed in my analysis, but at the end of the day, the entire existence of Les Enfants Terribles is one of the darkest, overarching plots of Metal Gear as a whole. Watching David in MGS4 and thinking about how a man so driven by his obsession with another man, a man who at the end of the day wasn’t even superhuman, all for the sake of..what? And the trail of bodies in his wake as a result.

I do want to analyze Zero better sometime. He’s terrifying and fascinating and while we don’t get much about him, what we are given is pretty tantalizing, and I suppose I could’ve just summed all this up as “Les Enfants Terribles’ is sinister as hell.” But I’m a windbag, what can I say? And how I was feeling bad for kid Eli.

[percyaugod]

@bunnieswithknives

So Rowan was adopted, right? Seeing how David also had a lack of parents could you imagine them meeting at like a foster home or something? Rowan ends up protective of this kid the others bully because of his scars and how hard it is for him to talk to others.

When Rowan's family tries to adopt him he refuses to leave David behind because he's all the other has. So they end up adopting both of them. David gets a new family and gets to stay with Rowan. David makes dolls and puppets for the little siblings.

David getting a new family means one of two things. Either he doesn't need to try to bring back his parents because he already has the love he needs, or everything else plays out more or less the same and it hurts so much worse because it was family that did all of this.

They beat themselves up wondering if there were signs they missed, some way to prevent all of this. Would probably make Rowan feel a lot more guilty for what he had to do to escape. The fact that David as a puppet probably reminds Rowan of the boy he used to protect is just salt in the wound.