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starkeristheendgame · 4 years ago

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If you are okay with it, I was wondering if you could do a body switch soulmate au. When you first make eye contact with your soulmate you switch bodies. You stay in each other's bodies for 24 hours. I feel like this could cause some shenanigans on both sides. Tony hasn't had to be taught anything in awhile and Peter doesn't know how to run a company.

I was a little apprehensive about this idea at first but honestly? I adore it. I am afraid, however, I took this away from the ‘humor’ pathway and plopped it straight down into ‘light angst’. Please accept my apologies for that - And I’d be happy to write something more lighthearted if this doesn’t hit the spot. Keeping your own emotions and mindset out of what you write is hard sometimes.

Slight AU in that they meet differently to CW.

TW: Light angst | Slight hurt

He was going to lose his fucking mind. He could feel each one of his IQ points disintegrating as he stared at the board (an actual digital board, what fucking year were they in? 2015?) and tapped his pen restlessly on the desk. He hadn’t been to school since he was eighteen. The last time he’d been in a classroom was January, giving a motivational speech to Princeton graduates.

He felt too small and too stifled and if this woman pronounced Epinephrine wrong one more time, he was going to launch his desk at her and snap that stupid board in half.

Because he could do that, now. Displays of sheer power. Because Peter Parker had been bitten by a genetically modified spider and Tony was currently occupying Peter’s body.

Soulmates were so, so overrated.

“Hey, wonder kid. Tap that pen one more time” the girl to his left whispered, and Tony shot her a cool side-eye. MJ quirked a brow at him, equally unimpressed, and nodded to the board. Tony scowled but knew the effect was ruined by the soft, pretty baby-face he currently wore. Curse Peter and his lopsided brows and his huge eyes. Curse soulmates for existing.

MJ was thus far the only one who’d noticed The Switch. It was only sheer coincidence that Peter and Tony both had brown eyes of a similar enough shade that the telling switch of eye colour between soulmates hadn’t given them away. MJ, however, was astoundingly attuned into her best friend, and it had only taken three minutes in her presence for her scowl at him and ask who the fuck was wearing her friend’s meatsuit. Tony had to begrudgingly admit that he could see why her and Peter were good friends. She’d looked unimpressed at his claim until he’d pulled out his (Peter’s) phone to show the frantic texts from that morning, and then she’d huffed, rolled her eyes, and dragged him to first period.

He thought lunch would be a reprieve when it came, but instead he found himself staring with growing dismay at a tray of food that he’d refuse even if he was a prisoner, blanching in disgust when a sloppy excuse for a mac’n’cheese was dumped into one of the slots. “I’m going to die” he complained, ushered along by an unsympathetic MJ. “This is cruel. This is inhumane. Dogs don’t even get fed this”.

“Yeah, well. You’re a billionaire, so. Put up or shut up. I have no sympathy for capitalist elitists”. And, wow, rude. But understandable. He sank down onto one of the bench seats and tried to stop his stomach from rolling at the way the meal wobbled when it was set down. He’d been poking at it for several moments, largely ignored by MJ, when a shadow fell over his table. He looked up and stared with disinterest at the sneering figure above him, before he sighed.

“Which one are you, then? Neb? Flake?”

“Flash” the form above him frowned, and Tony waved a dismissive hand.

“Yeah, whatever. Class killed off half my IQ points and I’m not wasting the rest on you. Off you pop”. He turned back to his pitiful excuse of a meal, prodding the macaroni distrustfully with his fork. The boy besides him gaped, flustered, before turning on his heel and stomping off. When Tony glanced up, the girl was looking appraisingly over her book at him.

“Maybe you should leave your balls behind. Peter could do with them” she noted, before dropping her gaze again.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“How much money does he actually have?”

“Sir’s total net worth including assets, liabilities and investments are currently estimated at just short of a trillion, Mr. Parker. In terms of ‘real time currently’ Sir has £515,268,385,012 as of the current hour”.

Peter was gonna pass out. He was wearing the body of a man with five-hundred billion in the bank. He’d known Tony Stark was rich, obscenely and un-necessarily so, but that was a whole other level. Vaguely unsteady, he sank down on the plush couch, feeling a little green. It had already been a few hours since waking, but he had yet to get used to the fact that he was, for all intents and purposes, Tony Stark.

“Does that bother you?” The artificial voice asked after a moment, sounding impossibly curious. Peter hadn’t thought AI of this level possible, but here he was, talking to a voice that was more realistic than some of the living people he knew.

“Its...A shock, I guess. I mean, it does bother me, I suppose. Nobody needs that much money. That much cold cash alone could eradicate homelessness in America. But...I don’t know. Its his money, he earns it. He saves the world and stuff. I don’t know how you could put a value on some of the things he’s done”.

The AI was quiet for a moment, pensive. “Sir’s ‘profession’ is high cost also, Mr. Parker. The worth of the Mark IVII alone is £6,000,500,000”. Peter thought about it for a moment, then gave in, humming softly. He supposed in that sense, having that much money kind of didn’t matter, then, when a huge chunk of it was consumed by saving the world. He’d seen how often that suit got dinged up, and had no doubt repairs and replacing parts was costly.

“Am I allowed to get something to eat?” He asked after a moment, stomach rumbling a little. He’d spent so much time this morning freaking out and being consoled by JARVIS that he’d missed breakfast and lunch had slipped him by.

“Of course, Mr. Parker. Several components of the kitchen are automated, but I am capable of guiding through any recipes or devices you are unfamiliar with”.

JARVIS had apparently activated something called ‘Romeo and Juliet Protocol’ when it had been revealed that Tony had been Switched, and a large majority of the Tower was closed off and protected. Peter couldn’t leave the penthouse and JARVIS had strict control of everything, even down to the doors. Peter was happy enough to just sit there and wait it out, though. As amazing as being here was, snooping was rude, especially when what he could find could potentially compromise the entire world.

He chose to make a simple, small sandwich which involved nothing more than a single knife and plate, marvelling at the giant fridge and the ridiculous amount of food within. Apparently Mr. Stark had a chef that stopped by once every other day with prepared meals, and was on-call for whenever he required a fresh meal without having to cook it. The produce was organic and far different to the sad, wilting lettuce that could be found at the local Cheap Fresh.

Technically, if it was plausible, when you Switched you were supposed to follow a specific protocol set up by the Government, but Mr. Stark had ultimately lost his entire mind at discovering his soulmate was fourteen and had immediately demanded Peter stay locked up like Rapunzel while he pretended to be him for the day to throw off suspicion. Peter couldn’t deny that had hurt a little, but he understood it. Soulmates or not it would be the scandal of the century - Tony would be called all sorts of things at best and investigated at worst, and the nature of their age difference meant a lifetime of interference and monitoring by the Government and protective services. He knew it was easier to pretend it hadn’t happened, to hide it from the world. Tony had suggested a private agreement, a ridiculous sum of money in exchange for Peter’s silence.

He realised he’d been staring morosely at his plate when JARVIS prompted him softly, and he sighed, taking a bite. There was no physical remote for the TV but JARVIS helped him to access a cache of movies and he settled on Inception, his weakness for Tom Hardy and Leonardo DiCaprio soothing the ache of his new reality.

“Am I allowed to ask what running a business is like?” He asked after a while, head balanced on his palm.

“In what regard, Mr. Parker?”

“Well, I don’t know. I mean, I’m fifteen. I don’t know how to run a company, let alone run a company and be a superhero. What kinda stuff does he do? Does he attend meetings? Does he fly around the world on company retreats like in the movies?”

JARVIS sounded lightly amused when he replied. “Sir has delegated much of the daily company operation amongst several trusted employees, but he is still the namesake, owner and CEO of Stark Industries. He does attend frequent meetings, but most of Sir’s ‘flying around the world’ is done for leisure or Iron Man related activity”.

“Sir spends most of his time in the lab, conducting important work for both his priorities. Sir also does a respectable amount of charity work, investment work and supportive work. I believe his latest venture is funding the entirety of MIT’s PhD graduate projects”.

Wow. That was...That would be a lot of money. And being supported by someone like Tony Stark was bound to be something to boast about, something that would fluff up your resume a little.

“Does he enjoy it?” Peter asked after a moment, fingertips raising absently to the arc reactor in his chest. It ached constantly, a low-level background pain that never quite faded out of touch, the odd sensation of a gaping maw in his chest something that had made him heave earlier that morning. Mr. Stark was tired, burnt out, but still going. It made Peter want to spend his twenty-four hours just sleeping, to try and soothe the man’s headache.

“Sir finds great gratification in his duties” JARVIS replied quietly, though he did not specify which. Peter gave a hum and succumbed to the desire to nap, curled up on the corner of the couch with Inception fading quietly into the background.

He ate again when he woke up, and blinked when he saw the time. Mr. Stark’s phone had been heavily locked down, but he could still access the message channel between this number and his own. The messages there were disheartening.

Told your hot Aunt I’m staying at that Nate kids house tonight. I’ll be coming to the Tower, but you won’t see me. I’ll stay on the level below.

Sorry, kid. Seeing someone else wearing me like a Givenchy suit is just too head-spinning.

JARVIS will keep you safe up there. We switch back at midnight, so try and get some sleep. You’ll wake up as yourself and I’ll get the plan in motion.

“JARVIS, when was the last time Mr. Stark cried?” He asked timidly, and the AI was silent for a moment.

“Four years ago, Mr. Parker”.

“Oh,” he breathed out, vision blurring. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I’m about to ruin that” and he let the teardrops fall.

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armandyke · 4 years ago

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The link between diet and autism: a critical analysis of the recent Earth Locker episode and a chance for River to relive her lab report title writing days

Link to the original video

So as I already mentioned I’ve seen a few people talking about the recent episode of the Earth Locker (a podcast by Robert Sheehan, Tom Hopper, and Bryon Knight) where they talk with Tom and his wife Laura about their experiences raising their autistic son. I watched the whole episode and while there were a lot of good points made, there was also some misinformation, statements that were poorly explained and could be misinterpreted, and a couple of pretty harmful ideas put across which I’m gonna go into below.

Disclaimer one: I’m gonna be saying a lot of stuff that I’m not going to be posting sources for. This is because everything I’m saying comes from my experiences as an autistic person, my experiences working as a support worker for adults with autism where I am currently a key worker for two autistic individuals, my work related training on autism, mental health, and diet & nutrition, and my knowledge from my psychology degree in which I also spent a lot of time studying biology and physiology. This is all just stuff that I know, and at some point I might try to add some sources but I’m writing this fresh off watching and making notes on this video so my energy is already running a little low and I’d rather focus on getting my points across instead of having to take time to source every piece of information.

Disclaimer two: The purpose of this post isn’t to attack or defend any of the people involved in the podcast. This is also in no way a criticism of Tom and Laura’s parenting. This is purely a criticism of the discussion that took place on the podcast, not on any of the choices they’ve made for their son.

Disclaimer three: I’m going to be using the phrase “challenging behaviour” a lot while I’m explaining things as this is the term used in most modern research and is what we use at work. This basically describes any behaviour that causes harm to the individual or to other people around them, or behaviour that is detrimental to the individual’s wellbeing.

So the main thing I want to go into with this is the misinformation and misinterpretation of information that was central to the discussion in this podcast, and that was around the connection between diet and autism. Most of the things Tom and Laura said about the effects of diet weren’t incorrect, but it wasn’t explained accurately and missed out on some key points so let’s go:

In terms of whether diet can “cause” autism: no it can’t. There’s absolutely no evidence to suggest it does. It also can’t “worsen” autism because autism isn’t something that can get “worse” or “better”. A person with autism can develop and learn new skills and they can also regress (and diet can influence this, which I’ll go into further on), but an autistic person at a lower stage of development does not have “worse” autism than a person at a higher stage of development.

Poor diet can have an impact on autistic people in the same way as with neurotypical people. If we eat junk, we tend to feel like junk as a result, and when we feel like junk it can be harder to concentrate and carry out our usual day to day tasks. However, autistic people are also significantly more likely to suffer from digestive problems and food intolerances, and so for a lot of autistic people (or parents of autistic children) diet may be something that requires close attention. So saying that an autistic individual’s challenging behaviour could be a result of their diet isn’t necessarily untrue, but it does massively oversimplify the issue. The challenging behaviour is more likely a response to pain or discomfort, (as well as frustration if they are unable to communicate this), which is caused by a diet unsuitable for this specific individual, which is caused by an intolerance or digestive problem, which they were at greater risk of developing due to their autism. It’s worth mentioning that medical professionals still don’t know why this comorbidity exists.

So, referring back to Tom and Laura’s experience with their son, they were explaining that their son’s challenging behaviour spiked while he was on a high-sugar diet. Laura also added that he had been suffering from increasingly frequent infections in his ears and throat while eating these foods, which makes sense because high blood sugar levels can weaken the immune system and make us more susceptible to infections. They then explained that these infections stopped following a tonsillectomy and a change to a sugar-free diet, which then also lead to a complete reduction in their son’s challenging behaviours. Again, implying that the reduction in behaviours is a result of cutting out the sugar is oversimplifying. It’s most likely that their son’s challenging behaviours were a response to the pain the infections were causing, which may or may not have been linked to his sugar intake. Either way, autistic people are all individuals and so while a reduction in sugar intake has benefited their son, by no means does that mean that all autistic people should be following a low-sugar diet or that this would be beneficial for them.

This isn’t entirely on topic but there are two other things I want to address in terms of what Tom and Laura said while talking about their son, the first being when talking about their initial approach to their children's’ diet before they were aware that their son was autistic. Laura essentially said that she wanted their children to be able to try different foods and that the focus would be on education about health and diet rather than cutting “unhealthy” foods out of their diets completely, which I thought was a great way to approach things. However she then added that, had they known about their son’s autism at the time, they may have approached things differently, which I was confused about. I think (and hope) she was just trying to say that if they had known upfront that sugar particularly seemed to be detrimental to their son, they would have reduced that straight away rather than having to use a process of trial and error which makes sense, but just the way it was phrased set off alarm bells because it sounded like she was implying that they would have controlled his diet more strictly if they had known he was autistic. Hopefully this isn’t the case because autistic people don’t need to have their choices limited if there is no detriment to their health or wellbeing.

Another thing I was confused about, and I’m not sure if this was supposed to be more of a weird analogy rather than factual information, was when Tom started talking about “sensory glands” when talking about their son’s hypersensitivity to sounds. I think his exact words were something along the line of saying that the high sugar levels were causing his “sensory glands” to “swell” which was heightening his sensitivity. And like... unless I missed something there is no such thing as a sensory gland and they certainly don’t swell up when we’re over stimulated or when we have a lot of sugar. Sugar triggers high dopamine responses in our brains which then leads to cravings and can cause spikes and crashes in mood, and it can also cause inflammation, all of which can cause discomfort and in turn could lead to an increase in sensitivity, but as far as I know sugar doesn’t have a direct effect on our senses.

Now on to the elephant in the room and the two big, glaring no-no's in this podcast, both of which were said by Tom (these are not direct quotes because I didn’t get a chance to jot them down in time so I’m paraphrasing slightly):

“we cannot ignore the correlation between rising autism rates and the increase in fast food consumption” (spoiler alert: yes we can)

“I really want to get to the cause of autism and see if there’s something that can be done to prevent it”

So, first of all, autism isn’t something that needs to be prevented. Autistic people are not a detriment to society. We don’t have an illness, we just experience the world differently and, in some cases, require additional support to live our lives as fully as possible. Obviously it can’t be ruled out that fast food, or anything else, has a part to play in rising rates, but there is absolutely no evidence to suggest that it does and correlation absolutely does not equal causation. Gay representation in the media has also been steadily rising with rates of autism diagnosis. Does this mean that seeing gay people on TV makes people autistic? No. As Laura briefly mentioned, it is far more likely that the rising rates are actually due to an increase in understanding about autism and the accessibility of diagnosis, especially when you consider how many people are still slipping under the radar even with all the knowledge we have today.

I appreciate that most of this podcast is just a conversation between friends about various topics, but when the goal of this podcast is to “raise awareness”, and with the shared platform the people involved have, casual statements like these are incredibly dangerous. With the general implication that if everyone lived a healthy, clean, and organic lifestyle, we could reduce the number of autistic people in our society, this not only puts the “blame” on parents of autistic people, and on the individuals themselves, but is also dipping into eugenics territory. And while I don’t think the intentions behind either statement were malicious, they were incredibly ignorant, and the fact that they went completely unchallenged was concerning and made me pretty uncomfortable.

There were still a lot of positives in the podcast. I’m really glad Laura was also involved because she definitely came across as being the most educated on the subject of the four of them and did make a point of bringing up issues with diagnosis (particularly among girls with autism), her and Tom’s privilege in terms of being able to work with doctor’s to find out as much as possible about their son’s dietary needs and to then provide him with a tailored diet, and also addressing the issues with “high functioning vs low functioning” when Rob asked about the “severity” of their son’s autism. However there was still an undeniable amount of inaccurate or poorly presented information, as well as some things that were just plain incorrect and offensive. I appreciate that a lot of this was coming from personal experience rather than being generalised information, but I think this could have been communicated a lot more clearly and effectively considering the intention was to spread awareness, and the episode would have massively benefitted from the input of an autistic adult. Rob specifically had a lot of questions about autism in general and I think they would have been much better answered by somebody with autism, rather than a parent giving an outside perspective of their child’s experiences. It’s always a little uncomfortable to watch four neurotypical people discuss autism, regardless of how positive their intentions are, and I don’t think it would have been a great challenge for them to find an autistic person who would have been willing to talk about the topic with them.

#YES it took me two hours to write this NO I won't elaborate #tom hopper #robert sheehan #the earth locker

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sexywmatsui48 · 4 years ago

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Love or Duty | Chapter 1

Jurina convinced herself she stood in front of the bar to relieve the stress of her hectic day. Staring at the red neon letters above the door, Acceptance, she glanced back towards the darkening street. Salary men and women left office buildings, going back home after work. Strutting around dressed up to the nines in their black uniforms, some joined the subway, while others waited for their bus. Whether listening to music coming from their headphones, or their gaze riveted to their phone. Nothing on their face let transpire the frenetic pace of life in Tokyo.

Jurina’s fingers clutched her briefcase. Go back to her apartment and call it a day: that’s precisely what she should do. Forget about the foolish thought of passing that door. Returning her attention to the flashy red letters, she swallowed the lump in her throat. How often did her steps slow down when she passed in front of this bar? How many times had she paused a moment too long and considered entering, before quickly changing her mind and resume her walk?

Jurina closed her eyes, trying to force herself to move along and erase the inappropriate ideas flooding her mind. If she had resisted the temptation on dozens of occasions, she could do it once more. Against all common sense, a newfound determination swept through her. Taking off her wedding band, she slipped it in her vest pocket and marched forward, entering the Acceptance bar.

A funky, upbeat music welcomed her, her arrival prompting a few heads to turn around. She remained at the entrance, observing the place. On the left side of the room, was erected a stage, the instruments indicating that a band was expected to play. Around the stage were disposed velvet comfy chairs, a few occupied by customers. Between the stage and the first row of chairs, sufficient space had been left to dance. On the right side of the room, was the bar, some clients enjoying a drink at the counter, perched on a bar stool. The blue subdued lighting created a warm and cozy atmosphere.

On a Wednesday, it was far from full. By the number of people slowly approaching the stage, Jurina guessed the upcoming show was much anticipated and would attract a lot of attention. To complete her studying, she noted the bar was filled with women, without a single man in sight. She didn’t expect any less. After all, Acceptance was renowned for attracting a specific type of clientele.

Forcing her legs to move, she walked towards the bar, and took a seat on one of the elevated black stools. Placing her hands on the wood counter, her eyes rested on the empty space on her ring finger. Jurina felt a pang of guilt, and reconsidered her presence. This was wrong; she shouldn’t be here. She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the front door. The female bartender was busy attending another customer. There was still time to change her mind and leave unnoticed.

“Hi, you’re new? I’ve never seen you here.”

Jurina swung her head to her left, where the feminine voice came from. A few stools away was sitting a woman in her thirties. Long, dark hair fell around her shoulders and down her back. Jet black mascara outlined her eyelashes. She wore a white sleeveless top, a mini red full skirt, along with a pair of blue sandals. Jurina felt ill-at-ease in her black salary woman outfit. Her black vest, buttoned over a white shirt, and her black pair of trousers, contrasted sharply with the woman’s relaxed appearance.

A gentle smile played across the woman’s lips, highlighted by a subtle, pale pink lipstick.

Jurina caught herself staring at her lips a moment too long.

“Yes, it’s my first time,” Jurina replied. She looked away. Jurina wasn’t a shy person. She was outgoing, and had no difficulty to engage in casual conversations with friends or coworkers. People praised her good nature. When a party was organized, she never refused. So why was she acting so distant? Another peek at her absent ring reminded her of her immoral intentions. She hadn’t only come to this place to empty her head after a long, exhausting day. She was in search of something else.

“May I join you?”

Jurina glanced back at her, and nodded her head in agreement. A smile of pleasure plastered the woman’s features. She moved to sit next to her.

“You haven’t ordered. What would you like to drink?”

Jurina’s attention fell onto the half-filled tulip glass in front of the stranger. “What are you drinking?”

“Sun and the Moon. It’s a mix of pineapple, melon and cranberry. It has a sweet taste, but it’s also alcoholic. It contains a lot of vodka.”

Jurina read between the lines; the woman was warning her against the possible effects the beverage could have on her. She was resistant to alcohol. Tonight, she wanted to forget about her problems. If this drink could help, it was what she needed.

“I’ll have the same,” Jurina replied.

The other woman expressed slight surprise, but didn’t say anything. She addressed the female bartender. “Akane. Can you serve the same to my friend?”

“Of course.” Jurina didn’t miss the curious look the bartender gave her, as if assessing her, before sending her a polite smile and preparing the drink.

“Do you come here often?” Jurina asked; it was impossible to ignore the familiarity between both women.

“Not that much, but the bartender is a good friend of mine. Who can say no to free drinks?” she said in a playful, joking tone. “I sometimes come on the weekend. Today is an exception. I had a long day at work, and needed to…” She trailed away, searching for her words. Her brow wrinkled with thoughts.

“Unwind?” Jurina offered.

“Yes.” The woman’s features softened; her lips curled into a smile. “Where are my manners. I didn’t introduce myself. My name is Rena.”

“Jurina.”

“Well, Jurina. Nice to meet you.” A drink was placed in front of Jurina, and she thanked the bartender. “I hope you’ll enjoy your drink.”

Jurina brought her glass to her lips, taking a sip. The woman was right; it contained a strong dose of alcohol. Despite it, she couldn’t resist taking another taste. It was different from what she was used to, but there was nothing wrong with trying something new. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the other woman watching her.

“I like it.” Jurina lowered her glass on the counter. “It has a sweet taste in the mouth. I might be tempted to take a few more.”

Rena let out a soft chuckle. “Yes, this cocktail can have this effect. I’m glad you like it. It’s my favorite.”

“I work in an advertising company. There are often tight deadlines to respect, and my days can be a little stressful,” Jurina said, marking a pause. A few women left the counter to approach the scene. The band had arrived. Jurina felt no desire to follow the gathering of people. Beside her, her companion had her gaze fixed on her, and was listening with attention. “What about you?”

“I’m an actress. At the moment, I’m playing in Central Hospital, a medical show that airs on TBS every Friday at 7 PM. You might have heard of it?”

“Well, I…” Jurina’s face clouded with slight embarrassment. “No, I’m sorry. I don’t watch a lot of TV.”

Rena’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “It’s alright, it’s a small part. I play the role of a lab technician. You wouldn’t have remembered me.”

“That’s hard to believe,” Jurina shook her head in disapproval. “I don’t see how anyone could forget a beautiful woman like you.”

Jurina tensed. Her heart beat increased. What on earth was she saying? She had blurted those words without thinking. She raised her glass, drinking hard.

Rena giggled. “Thank you for the compliment. So, you think I’m beautiful?”

Jurina returned her gaze to her, startled. The woman was teasing her. “I do.” The answer left her lips more naturally than she wished to admit. It had to be the alcohol speaking. She had already emptied her first glass. Deep down, she knew it was a false excuse. Her female companion was lovely, charming and attractive. Anyone with eyes could see that. It was impossible to not feel drawn to her.

Rena went back to her drink, looking pensive. Jurina feared she had gone too far. Had she been too straightforward? “Be careful, or I’ll believe you’re flirting with me.”

“I…” Jurina didn’t know what to say.

“I don’t mind,” Rena said; she laid her hand on top of Jurina’s. “After all, I’m the one who approached you.”

The contact sent her pulses racing. Jurina knew it was wrong to feel that way. Every fiber in her body warned her against it, what would happen if she pursued with this interaction and train of thoughts.

“I’ll take another one.” Rena signaled the bartender. “What about you? Do you want another drink, or…” she paused for a breath, letting slip a twinge of doubt through her mask of confidence. “Do you want to stop here?”

Jurina was at a cross path. Reason told her to put some distance between them and leave before it was too late. Another part of herself, the one that led her to push the door of that bar, was eager to discover what would follow. Before she could open her mouth to answer, her head had nodded her consent. The woman displayed the most captivating smile, one she found unable to resist.

**********

After the third drink, Jurina perceived the influence of alcohol on her system. It made her more open, talkative. In Rena’s presence, she didn’t see the time pass by. During two hours, they discussed various topics, from music, cooking and traveling. Never did they broach, as if a tacit agreement existed between them, any subject that touched their private life.

Their complicity made Jurina forget all about the late hour. Every opportunity was good for Rena to brush Jurina’s shoulder, or rest her hand upon her leg. Rena used the music as a pretense to lean over and speak against her ear, her lips touching her cheek too frequently to be an accident. Her rose perfume, that reached Jurina’s nostrils whenever she invaded her personal space, blended with the freshness of citrus scents, both soothing and intoxicating at the same time.

They were playing a dangerous game.

“This is my favorite song.” Rena’s attention was drawn by the ballad the band was singing. “Will you dance with me?”

The proposal set up a few alarms in Jurina’s head. “I-I’m not so much of a dancer…”

“Oh, come on.” Rena raised from the stool. She reached for her hand. “Everyone knows how to slow dance.”

Jurina didn’t have the opportunity to protest that she dragged her towards the stage. She stopped in the middle of the dancefloor, amidst the other couples of dancers, and threw her arms around her neck. Jurina’s heart hammered in her chest. She stood transfixed on the spot, unable to move, Rena’s body pressed against hers.

“You’re supposed to put your hands around my waist,” Rena murmured playfully to her ear. “Or people are going to look at us awkwardly.”

Jurina met her gaze, amusement flickering in the eyes that met hers. Jurina’s hands touched her waist, tentative, then slipped her arms around her. They moved in rhythm with the music, brushing the floor softly. Before Rena’s tender smile, Jurina let herself go. Little by little, the tension melted from her body and she slowly relaxed. When Rena buried her face against her shoulder, Jurina tightened her hold ever so slightly.

It was like time was suspended, and nothing else mattered but the two of them. Jurina didn’t pay attention to the lyrics of the song, or the other couples dancing. All she could focus on was the gorgeous woman in her arms, and the intimacy they shared. How was it possible to feel such a strong connection to someone she barely met? She shushed the little voice in her head telling her this was wrong. While the truth scared her, it was impossible to deny they were attracted to each other.

She could have danced with her all night.

Everything eventually comes to an end. In the background, the music faded, breaking the magic. Rena disentangled her arms from her neck. The band announced it was the last song, and the crowd dissipated. None of them made any move to leave. Rena’s lips were so close to hers; she could have easily stolen a kiss. Jurina felt a twinge of shame for letting such a thought cross her mind.

Rena took her hand, and lead them back to the bar. All along the way, Jurina tried to analyze what had transpired between them. Why had she let another woman get so close to her? Her actions were irrational. She should have left that bar hours ago. In fact, she shouldn’t even have passed that door in the first place. They regained their seat, both falling into an unusual silence.

Rena raised her glass to her lips, and Jurina mimicked her actions, trying to make sense of the situation. When she glanced back in Rena’s direction, she found her looking at her intently. Rena settled her drink back on the counter. Her hand found hers, linking their fingers together. “I’m going to the bathroom. Will you join me?”

Jurina’s heart raced at Rena’s suggestive smile.

She didn’t wait for an answer and left. Jurina followed her retreating form, not losing the implication of what she had offered. She reached for her drink, noticing how little was left of it, and emptied it down in one gulp. Her feet moved on their own volition. Before she realized it, she had pushed the bathroom door.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

Rena waited on the other side of the room, her back leaned against the white, tiled bathroom wall. Jurina watched her expression of pleasure change to longing. She shuddered, and felt a burning need for her grow deep inside of her. She swept the place around, enough to acknowledge they were alone. Rena tore herself away from the wall and reduced the few meters separating them. Once in front of her, she wound her arms around her neck and drew Jurina’s mouth to hers.

“I’ve wanted you since you took a seat at the bar.”

The moment Rena’s lips made contact with hers, Jurina threw herself into that kiss. Rena’s lips parted and her mouth opened in invitation. That small invitation was all Jurina needed. Jurina pulled her close, and kissed her hungrily. The simple taste of her elicited reactions from her body that swept her away in their intensity.

Jurina could feel herself sliding towards that dangerous cliff. The cliff where the entire world gave way before her burning urges. Her hands wrapped around Rena’s waist, holding her steady. Rena never hesitated nor resisted. The more Jurina took, the more Rena gave, and she clung to her, Rena’s body pressed so closely against hers she could feel every supple curve moulding to her.

How long they stayed that way, drowning in the taste and touch of the other’s mouth, Jurina didn't know, and truly didn't care. Had it not been for the demands of their oxygen starved lungs, she might not have pulled her lips from her own. Rena was here in her arms, and Jurina was losing herself in the smell of her, the taste of her, the very feel of her soft, warm skin beneath her fingertips where they brushed her bare shoulders.

Her hands moved down her back, exploring, trying to slip underneath her white shirt. Their kisses turned more demanding, pressing. It was messy, urgent. When Jurina kissed her, she discovered she had more passion and fire within her than she ever imagined, for one luscious taste of Rena’s lips only left her hungrier for more.

“I needed that so badly,” Rena gasped.

“Me too,” Jurina confessed.

When Jurina’s mouth met hers again, Rena took control of the kiss, her tongue plundering the depths of her mouth and leaving her trembling with arousal and desire. Jurina drew back long enough to gaze at her with enough unbridled passion in her eyes, for the other woman to know they both wished the same thing.

Their kisses turned more passionate, none of them showing signs of wanting to stop. Jurina found herself pushed against the wall. She heard her vest falling on the ground, and a pair of hasty fingers unbuttoning her shirt. Next thing she knew, Rena’s palms were mapping her breasts through her bra, her nipples pulling tight under her ministrations.

“You’ll need that.”

The kiss was broken; Jurina dragged her heavy-lidded eyes open. Trying to figure out what she meant, she followed Rena’s actions. Detaching herself from her, Rena placed a coin in the wall machine, and retrieved the fallen condom. Surprise flashed in Jurina’s eyes. “H-How did you know?”

Rena gave her a malicious, knowing look. “You think I didn’t notice the bulge between your legs? It’s not a secret what kind of people come to this bar.”

Jurina was taken aback, speechless. “So, you have… with people like me?”

“I don’t have any preferences, but yes, a couple of times. Why?” She slipped the plastic bag into the front pocket of Jurina’s pants. “Isn’t it what you were looking for when you entered that bar?”

“I…” Jurina made no immediate reply, and considered for a moment. “I’m not sure what I was searching.”

Confusion crossed Rena’s features. “You wanted some company.” She lightly swept her tongue between Jurina’s lips, pressing her warm, soft lips to hers. “Am I wrong?”

“No, you’re not…” Jurina couldn’t deny it.

“Then, come in.”

Rena grabbed her by the shirt and pulled her into an empty toilet, shutting the door close behind them. Jurina didn’t know what she found the most frightening and enticing at the same time: that she wanted another woman so much, or that she was desired with equal hunger. Rena didn’t waste time to work on her pants, pulling them down, then pushed her down on the toilet seat. Jurina’s mouth went dry; her heart jolted. She watched in awe as Rena’s hand disappeared under her red full skirt and pulled off a pair of pink underwear, letting it fall on the floor.

She grew more excited as Rena hiked her skirt up and straddled her. Jurina helped her remove her white top from above her head, Rena tossing it aside, her pink bra following the same path. Jurina pulled her closer, and latched her lips onto hers. Her hands moved up so her thumbs touched the undersides of her exposed breasts. Jurina could feel Rena’s heartbeat, and she breathed more heavily by every second. With every breath, her breasts moved slightly and Jurina moved towards her nipples. She caressed them freely and fully, cupping one in each hand and rubbing each in a circular motion.

“D-Don’t make me wait.” Rena’s voice sounded husky, a little breathless. “I want you inside me.”

Jurina needed no further encouragement. Her hand reached between Rena’s legs, but was halted in her exploration. “There’s no need for any more foreplay.” Rena grabbed her wrist. “Trust me, I’m ready.” Jurina gently freed herself from her hold. She resumed her progress underneath Rena’s skirt, approaching the soft flesh of her inner thighs. Her fingers came in contact with damp folds. “See? Told you.” Rena smirked back at her. She hooked a finger on each side of Jurina’s boxers and inched them down, revealing Jurina’s manhood. Astonishment touched her face, followed by an amused smile.

Jurina felt slightly embarrassed.

She was as hard as stone.

Rena touched Jurina’s cheek and ran her thumb across her lips. She leaned forward, gently kissing her. “Do you want to put it on, or will I? What do you prefer?”

Through her frenzy mind, it took Jurina a few seconds to remember where Rena had placed the condom. Jurina retrieved it from her pants pocket, and tore it open, slipping the protection on over her erection. Rena took a moment to position herself, then reached between Jurina’s legs and guided her manhood into her. She lowered herself smoothly, gently, until Jurina held her completely inside her. Jurina gave a gasp of excitement as she felt the hot, moist clench of her muscles on her.

Rena began moving on top of her. She moved slowly, sliding out of her until only the tip remained inside then slowly thrusting back in again until she filled her completely. Each stroke made her whimper and moan slightly, her arms tightening around her. Rena continued her slow languid movements, holding her intense chocolate-eyed gaze with her own. They rocked together, two minds slowly merging to become one as their bodies melded until it was impossible for her to know which was her pleasure and which was hers.

She rocked rhythmically, back and forth, rising and falling, changing sometimes to a lewd circular sway. It drove them both crazy, if the hitches in their breathing were any indication. Jurina drew one of those tight nipples into her mouth. Gripping handfuls of her hair, Rena let out a sharp cry of pleasure. Jurina’s hands gripped Rena’s hips and grinded her down on her. Jurina sped up the tempo.

Hard and fast she pushed her down on her, her tongue moving in sync with her hips, encouraged by Rena’s rising passion, by the hands that clenched her back. Jurina sent her free hand down to where they were joined, teasing and coaxing her sensitive bud. Rena’s moans of pleasure encouraged her fiery plundering of her body. Jurina closed her eyes and let the pleasure radiate outward from where their bodies were joined. Jurina felt a pulling at her shaft in rhythm to their movement. It was the muscles inside Rena, caressing her. Jurina made a low sound in her throat.

“You can hold it. Just… a little longer.”

Jurina heard Rena’s whispering pleas, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She teetered on some brink of ecstasy, trembling on the edge just this side of sanity. Rena’s breath was coming faster now. They went on, moving in unison. Rena adjusted the angle to reach her most sensitive spot, far up inside her womb. That made Jurina’s eyes open. The physical pleasure could no longer be separated from the mental, and she felt them both rising to the edge toward the crest of ultimate pleasure.

Rena reached that pinnacle first. Gasping out Jurina’s name, she shuddered around her, her contractions clamping down on her shaft. Rena clung to her while her body shivered in the aftershocks. Jurina’s own release followed on the heels of hers. She lost all control and climaxed with her, riding the waves of pleasure.

When Jurina returned to herself, it was to the feeling of Rena’s fingers stroking her hair. A sensation of satisfaction drifted from her, a sated happiness and warmth that was intoxicating. Rena’s body still trembled from the force of her last orgasm and she shuddered as well. Breathing heavily, still buried deeply inside of her, Jurina dropped a trail of kisses down her neck, and on her shoulder.

Minute by minute, they came down from the euphoria but remained locked in each other’s arms. For the first time in more years Jurina could remember, she had finally experienced sexual pleasure again.

Jurina felt Rena backing slightly, and pressing her lips against hers. A smile pulled at her lips and she returned the kiss, almost wishing this moment could last forever. Eventually, Rena slowly removed herself from on top of her. She retrieved her fallen clothes from the floor, and readjusted them as best as she could. Jurina watched her moving towards the door, and she knew this was it. Her short, but memorable encounter with Rena was coming to an end. She turned around in her direction. “Thank you. I enjoyed it.”

Rena gave her one last lingering smile and unlocked the door. Jurina followed the sound of her footsteps drawing away, followed by the bathroom door opening and shutting close. Jurina was left alone with her thoughts. A one-night stand. It was all that it was. Once Jurina would have left that place, she would return to her daily life, and pretend that moment never occurred.

**********

Jurina dropped her keys in the ashtray, and hanged her vest on the coatrack. Removing her shoes in the entrance, she was careful not to make too much noise as she made her way inside the dark apartment. She stole a peek in the direction of the bedroom: the lights were off. Pushing the bathroom door, she removed her clothes, and entered the shower. A steady stream of warm water cascaded over her shoulders, washing away any physical trace of her misconduct.

Visions of Rena filled her mind. She had no intention of seeing her again. No clarification was needed for them to know what this nightly encounter was. But it didn’t mean Rena was someone easy to forget. She had made her feel something, on both an emotional and physical level, that she hadn’t felt in years.

Jurina made her way to the bedroom, slowly opening the door. Her gaze fell down on her wife, sleeping soundly in bed. The pang of guilt got bigger. She made her way towards her own side of the bed, and took a seat on the side of the bed, her back turned to the other woman while she put on her pajamas. She had to repeat herself again and again it was only a moment of weakness, to not let the shame consume her. Placing her wedding ring on the bedside table, she quietly slipped between the sheets.

The mattress shifted behind her.

“Did you stay at work late again?”

“Yes, I wanted to finish some paperwork.” Jurina bit down on her lower lip. It was the first time she lied to her wife.

“You can arrive at work later. Don’t forget we have a meeting at 11 AM with the board committee.”

“I won’t…” Jurina’s voice trailed away uneasily. “Thank you for reminding me. Goodnight, Sakura.”

“Goodnight.”

Behind her back, Jurina heard her wife falling back asleep. Jurina tried to do the same, but found herself wide awake. She stared at the wedding ring on the bedside table, reminder of the commitment she had made to the woman sleeping in bed with her. And the misdeed she had committed tonight for the first time. Jurina squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to erase from her mind once and for all any memory of Rena’s enchanting dark, brown eyes.

#wmatsui #jurisaku #matsui jurina #matsui rena #miyawaki sakura #takayanagi akane #SKE48 #Love or Duty #chapter 1

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potatoqueensays · 4 years ago

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Happiness Is a Virtue That You Deserve

Yo! So I may have written another Irondad fic, it's a bit shorter than the last one but I hope you enjoy!! 🥰

AO3 link:

_______________________________________________

Tony had been hauled up in his lab all day, working on an update for his suit while he had the kid over. Technically it was one of their lab days but he told the boy to go to the common room and enjoy his day while he worked on schematics and "whatever genius stuff he did".

Peter's words, not his.

He felt slightly bad for having the kid not in the lab with him, but he also knew that he could distract Peter with how he was stumped with his own work when the kid needed to do his homework, it was very important as him and May stressed that everyday, even though they knew Peter was way ahead of them.

So he was deep in thought when he heard a shout loud enough to hear down in his lab, he was startled out of his thought process and almost dropped the tool he was holding when working on a suit.

He looked to the ceiling in confusion.

"FRI honey, mind telling me who just yelled?"

"It appears to be Mr. Parker, Boss."

His eyes widened slightly, FRIDAY hasn't alerted him that there were any problems in the tower. Nobody appeared to try and explode his lab in, and there was no news of aliens appearing on the streets of New York, so why was Peter screaming?

Panic slowly wrapped it's claws around his heart, to which he put down his tool and sat up. His Tower was one of the safest places there could be in the state, but maybe someone tried to hack FRIDAY?

"Mind telling me why he's screaming?" He raised a brow slightly, trying to mask his slight fear even to his AI, although she could probably already tell from how his heart went just a little quicker than normal.

"He seems to be playing a videogame." His dutiful creation responded.

That seemed to explain the shout, although it was pretty loud to appear all the way to his lab, that kid sure had lungs.

Even if the assurance of Peter just playing a game calmed his fear, he would be at ease when he checked on the kid himself.

Tony got up from where he was sitting and made way out of the lab. Fast walking to the elevator, he didn't need to say a word as the door shut and made it's way to where Peter already was, his AI knew him too well.

When the doors opened, he could already hear the loud voice of a one Peter Parker. He was still shouting (luckily quieter), but he seemed to be laughing a little as he talked.

When Tony left the elevator, he made a beeline for Peter, seeing the kid sitting on one of the couches with his eyes on the TV, controller in hand as he used the Xbox Tony had gotten him about a couple weeks ago.

"Hey kid, where's the fire?"

Peter didn't seem the least bit startled as he paused his game and looked over to Tony.

"Oh hey Mr. Stark! I'm just playing some minecraft with Ned." He pointed to the headset over his head, a grin plastered on his face as his brown doe eyes held pure amusement.

Tony could feel his shoulders relax a little as took a once-over on the spider-kid before him that was fortunately unharmed, he smirked a little.

"Oh yeah? What happened that made you shout so loud that Thor could probably hear you from Asgard?"

He could practically feel the smirk on his face turning into a grin as Peter's cheeks turned a little red, but the happiness in his eyes luckily didn't dim.

"Oh sorry, I got a little too distracted, Ned and I were fighting and he accidentally hit my wolf, it's alright now though! I had to make her sit down so she wouldn't attack Ned." The boy babbled on.

Tony's eyes softened a little at that, even in a game Peter didn't want anyone getting hurt. His heart warmed as he made his way over to the couch to sit next to the kid.

"It's alright, I kinda needed a distraction anyways. You mind showing me the game anyway? You told me something about just getting it and wanting to play." He remembered when he showed the Xbox to Peter when explaining that he already had it before (he got it for him specifically, but Tony would never admit that) the kid's eyes practically lit up like the fourth of july. He said that he had a videogame he wanted to show his mentor and that he wanted to play it with him if the man had time. Which he always did when it came to his kid.

"Oh yeah! We're kinda just building a big death star right now since we already built the lego version, we've done it before but we need to perfect it!" The kid looked back to his game and resumed it, showing off the partly made death star, Tony could see that everything was made out of blocks, and a character was crouching a lot in front of where Peter's character was looking.

"That's Ned right there, he can hear us by the way. He says hi."

"Hey Ted." He responded to said kid. He could hear a voice through the kid's headset, who was probably fan-boying over Tony Stark himself watching two teenagers play a game.

Peter smiled wider at his response, his gaze focusing back on the TV in front of him. He gathered some blocks from a chest and placed them with Ned.

Tony leaned back in his seat as he watched the boy play happily, it was definitely a good choice to get that Xbox, the kid was so happy from what he could see.

Peter was too engrossed in his game that he couldn't see the fond look his mentor unknowingly gave him, but he could hear the elevator from across the room open up, showing Pepper Potts stepping out, fresh from a meeting.

She walked in the room to see the two geniuses focused on a game, correction: one genius. Her beloved fiancé was watching the kid play, probably thinking of other things he could get for Peter so he could smile forever. He was such a dad.

"Hi Ms. Potts!" Peter greeted as he still looked at the game. Tony looked up to see the redhead herself, his small smile growing bigger as she kissed his forehead. "Hey Pep."

"Hi Peter, Tony." She looked at the boy and then the inventor. By the look on her face, he was probably due for a lecture soon, oh no.

"What did I do now, oh sweet future wife of mine?"

"Well let's see; for one, you didn't attend the meeting you said you would, so instead I had to go, and you still haven't responded to those business dealers about what they wanted to buy." She looked at him expectantly, just daring him to say anything to combat her scolding.

"Well as you can see, I'm busy with Pete here. He's playing his game, what's it called? Craftmine?"

"It's Minecraft and you know it, Mr. Stark!" Peter butt in.

"Don't use him to distract me, Tony."

The inventor sighed good-naturedly. He had been putting off things for a while, focusing on what really called his attention. Like Peter of course. He had bought the tower back so he could keep a closer eye on the spider-kid, but he wouldn't admit that of course.

"I'll get to it soon, I have to influence what he builds, otherwise he might leave me for some other corporation, have to keep them interested you know."

Pepper rolled her eyes and made her way past the couch to probably go change. She still had things to do today, but it seemed Tony just wanted to wait a little bit more to be productive.

"Oh yeah I was thinking, kid, how do you feel about a PS4?"

"What?"

"Tony!"

#irondad #irondad and spiderson #marvel #tony stark #peter parker #irondad fanfiction #ao3

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years ago

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pinky and the brain: s1e7 - tv or not tv

y’all do NOT understand how many times i have tried to post this. tumblr just will not stop eating it. this was supposed to be out last wednesday LMAO i am doing my best.

episode summary: brain engineers a pair of Mouse Dentures that give him a charming smile. anyone hypnotised by these dentures Suddenly Adores Him For No Good Reason. unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a shut in, so nobody is actually going to see his charming smile-- unless he gets himself a sitcom.

....or something.

the rundown:

we open on brain talking about the “weird and magical power” of celebrity. he has defaced several women, and is sticking his ass out. as you do. what is he doing to CINDY! and her ilk?? he must be stopped.

“those who have it weild tremendous influence. few can avoid the enchantment of its’ spell.”

“do you know what gives them this power?”

holy shit. he just stabbed CINDY!.

pinky absolutely does not care for CINDY!’s fate. “haha. narf. hey, paddlefoot, do you know what they call a quarter pounder in france?”

of course, sirius black was not in pulp fiction, and neither, as far as i can tell, was he in france. brain silences him with “enough gay banter”, like he wasn’t just sticking his ass out in his general direction, like, two minutes ago.

(this was the 90s, y’all. gay definitely meant gay back then. this is not the faraway tree.)

“pinky! behold the key to the power of attraction!”

“pushpins!”

“hurraaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“no, pinky.”

apparently the key to attraction is a

“winning smile”, as brain points out, tapping on CINDY!’s poor mutilated face for emphasis.

“and a nice healthy gum!”

“and... a nice healthy gum.”

it turns out that brain has “taken this idea of the influential smile to a new level - a level no less than world domination“, which is bold words for Mr Tumble Dryer. to achieve this, he has invented

teeth.

(okay. so it’s a bit bigger than that. he shows pinky the plans for,

and then a prototype of, a whole machine built specifically to engineer him little mousie dentures. a lot of work went into this one. shame, really.

“when did you have time to build that?”

“while you were engrossed in your mr belvedere reruns.”

“oh, i miss him. ):” )

anyway so. brain puts his teeth in.

there he is.

pinky describes this as

“enchanting (’:”

and brain affirms that it’s supposed to be. apparently the “reflective vibrations” (okay) of his smile stimulates the medula oblongata,

“causing the viewer to adore me for no good reason!”

“zort! i’m adoring you for no good reason!”

(he does point out, while brain is admiring his reflection in a nearby bunsen burner, “what if they’re wearing sunglasses?”

brain’s response is “we’ll work nights.”)

still, brain can’t just sit around in the lab twiddling his thumbs and expect the general public to Adore Him For No Reason. he needs exposure! and as pinky ponders “what would mr belvedere do,” brain asserts that he would “eat some butter”.

“i’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve seen far too much of mr belvede--”

more like mr belvIDEA lol. sorry i’ll see myself out.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, bur it’s a miracle that this one grew back. ):”

.....okay.

thankfully, the plan is not, in fact, to amputate pinky’s leg. again???? instead, brain intends to use a weapon of “great stealth, power, and corruption.”

OUR OWN SITCOM.

✨

meanwhile, at the wb studio, we meet jerry kilmer. mr kilmer is currently being harassed by some dudes who also really, really want their own sitcom. for far less nefarious purposes, presumably.

“so there’s this guy, right?”

“and get this! he designs--”

“BIKINIS.”

“TINY LITTLE BIKINIS. OKAY okay okay okay so here’s the hook.”

“HE’S PRETENDING--”

“TO BE BLIND.”

it does not appear to be what mr kilmer is looking for.

(meanwhile, the mice are spying on the acme labs janitor. he seems like a cool dude! but the mice are not here for friendship.

they sneak into his jacket pocket!

and...... steal his.... car keys? “YES. to the television station!”

✨

this isn’t even the first vehicle he’s stolen. hopefully he’ll have this one back by curfew as well.)

they do get pulled over by the police, but i don’t want to go into that. unless you guys reaaaallly want me to. instead, they park outside the studio and harass some poor receptionist.

“excuse me. we’re here to-- pitch. as they say. a sitcóm. my dear.”

i don’t know why brain says words like that.

“appointment?”

“oh, i’m sure you can--”

“work us in.” says brain. he is sticking his ass out for no reason. all the appeal is in his sparkly dentures, so.... there’s really no need for that, my dude.

✨

“you’re next! for no good reason!”

these dudes are still here. “wait!” yells our budding comedian, “wait! check out this idea. it’s about a guy!”

original.

“who always sticks his foot in his mouth!!”

clever. unfortunately, his demonstration goes wrong, and he ends up kicking mr kilmer in the face.

bonk.

gives him a nasty black eye to boot. ouch.

“ugh. can’t i ever just see someone normal?”

good thing these very normal individuals have just shown up, huh? nothing shady about these guys. “ugh, thank goodness,” says mr kilmer. they introduce themselves politely as jonathan michael charles (left) and jamal spelling (right).

“you guys have quite a look.”

“thank you.”

✨

“alright then. what do you got for me?”

“egad, brain.”

“he’s not adoring you for no good reason!!”

“drat.”

“well. we’re young hip adults--”

“and hijinks ensue!”

“who sit on a big fat couch and whine--”

“with disaaaasterous results!!”

“and have lots of generation x friends who trade zippy, sarcastic banter.”

“and i have a monkey.”

a very original concept.

at least, mr kilmer sems to think so. “hmmm. fresh. but tell me! what really brings you here. what are jamal and jonathan all about.”

“actually, we are two lab mice involved in a broad and sweeping plan to take over the world.”

mr kilmer thinks this is hilarious, apparently.

these guys do not. but they’re not important, for the moment.

the long and short of it, anyway, is that kilmer can’t give them a sitcom because nobody knows who they are, quote unquote. “the day i see your face on the cover of peeple magazine is the day you get a sitcom.”

irritated, jamal and jonathan make their exit.

and mr kilmer laughs so hard at the idea of lab mice trying to take over the world, that he falls out of his chair.

this will become relevant later.

meanwhile -- i just had to screencap this, okay, because of brain’s face. pinky suggests that he get on the cover of peeple by marrying prince charles. and brain thinks this is a horrible idea.

he’s much more interested in princess diana. but no, pinky, the path he must follow is “the same one followed by the leading sitcom stars of the day.”

“i must become a SUCCESSFUL STANDUP COMEDIAN.”

“so hey, how about those mitochondria? do they have enough cilia or what?”

“hey, why don’t you tell a joke you know!”

this may be harder than brain thought. undeterred, though, he presses on.

“do you ever notice how when you’re looking in the mirror of a quadrant electrometre, your forehead seems large?? why is that??”

“i just flew in from cleveland! and boy are my upper extremeties fatigued by a buildup of lactic acid!”

“booooooooooooooo!” says our guy on the left.

“go back to your troll village, squirt!” says his friend on the right. “what do you say to that?”

“i find you repugnant.”

(well. that made them laugh, at least.)

“your stupidity is matched only by the ill-slipped caterpillar, that chews off its’ own wings after emerging from its’ cucoon!!!”

“in fact! all of you! are just a gaggle of pathetically misguided root diggers!!”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

“you’re all repugnant i say!!! repugnant!!!”

and with that little mousie tantrum out of his system, brain trundles off to sulk.

pinky claps him on the way out.

“egad brain! narf! they love you!”

“yes.”

so then he goes on tv, i guess.

“our comedy challenger is the master of insults! the prince of putdowns! jamal spelling!”

“you’re all a bunch of crevulating nitwits with peat moss for a cortex. repugnant!”

i don’t envy that guy third from the right. he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time. he’s sensitive about his peat moss cranium, okay? don’t make fun of him.

NEXT ON G, HOWIE TURN HOSTS COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING.

“so, uh, jamal spelling. what kind of stupid name is that? cmon? what’s your real name?”

this would be racist if jamal spelling was a human man comedian and not like, a lab mouse. thankfully, this is not the case.

“my real name is the brain.” says brain, helpfully enunciating the “the”. “and you, my unwashed friend, are repugnant.”

HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA.

“oh, you’re hot, baby.”

okay.

but we’re, uh. we’re not going to think about that, and we’re going to go look at the david letterman show instead.

“uh, my next guest-- paul, do you know who our next guest is?”

“daaaaave, i know he’s a beautiful kind of-- nutty cat who just got us all a-wow.”

“here he is, ladies and gentlemen! for your comedy dollar, jamal spelling!!”

jamal spelling appears to be naked.

but he’s funny, so nobody minds.

“somebody here smells like a coagulated agar slant growing in a petri dish. repugnant!”

see! he’s just too comedy for clothes.

(meanwhile, we take a short trip to the office of janet mekko. “welcome, mr kilmer,” she says.

“my... secretary sent me here-- actually, i feel kind of stupid.”

“oh, honey. that’s a good thing! if there weren’t any stupid people, i wouldn’t have any business.”

“now. ya got some paaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.”

(in the distance, dan reynolds - at the tender age of eight - mumbles “you made me a, you made me a believer” in his sleep.)

“yeah.” says mr kilmer, completely unaware of this. “i fell out of my chair.”

“i’m gonna hypnotise you, so relax.”

okay.

“this’ll make you sleepy.”

“what is it?”

“a kenny g album.”

“okay. you’re in a trance. i’m gonna give you a random word. if you feel pain, say that word, you’ll feel good.”

“but careful! cause if you say it when you’re feeling good, the pain will come back! bad.”

spooky.

“and your random word is--”

“repugnant.”

there is, of course, absolutely no way this can go wrong.)

let us turn our view to happier pastures. namely, the mice are watching tv.

TONIGHT ON CIRCUS OF THE STARS

HARRY DEAN ANDERSON GETS SHOT OUT OF A GIANT PASTA MAKER

COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING FLIES THE TRAPEZE

AND BOB SAGET GETS TRAMPLED BY A BEAR. we hope.

pinky is elated! “egad, brain! circus of the stars! narf! you’ve really made it!”

pinky wants to be on circus of the stars, don’t you know. unfortunately, as he dutifully informs brain in pretty much the same breath, he hasn’t quite made it into peeple magazine yet.

“hm. it’s time to use plan b, pinky.”

“there was an a?? poit.”

ouch. jesus, pinky.

undeterred, brain marches his merry little ass over to the old timey corded phone.

beep.

“yes, connect me with buckinham palace, please.”

“egad! you did it brain! the cover of peeple!”

rule britannia is playing in the background of this scene. let’s... not think too hard about how this works, and agree that, yes, pauly shore, enough.

no more pauly shore, please.

conclusion:

jerry keeps his word, and, upon learning that jamal spelling is now legally married to princess diana (a fact which would certainly not lead to a warrant for his arrest in a couple of years) he asks him for a demo tape.

for such small hands, jamal sure does have very neat handwriting.

“make me laugh, jamal, and you got yourself a sitcom.”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

he seems to like it! kilmer makes a little hee hee noise, unprepared for where this is undoubtedly going.

“you’re repungnant!”

“AAUGHGHGHHH.”

there it is.

“repugnant!”

“i say repugnant!”

repugnant repugnant repugnant repugnant

repugnant!

and with that, jerry kilmer falls out of the window.

as he does, he yells “i’ll get you, jamal spelling” which personally i think is unfair. jamal couldn’t have known, surely? don’t be mean to jamal. he’s got a lot on his mind, what with that restraining order against howie turn.

meanwhile, in the lab, the mice debate a good pitch for a pilot (i’ve got it, brain! it’s a show about nothing!) when jamal spelling gets a call.

“hi jamal! this is nina from the tv station. could you come down for a meeting?”

“mm hmmm.”

✨

it’s the WB.

as nina types away, jamal and jonathan enter casually, like this is their house, or something. “are you pleased to see us?” asks jamal, in a cocky, egomaniac labmouse sort of way.”

“yes i am!”

(nina somehow doesn’t notice.)

anyway then these guys find the dentures and pitch the first idea that comes into their heads.

“hey cortex! what do you wanna do tonight?”

don’t ask why mouse dentures fit a human man. we suspend our disbelief here.

(also there was no way this was brain’s fault. he couldn’t have known. outside influence it is. a shame, really.)

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 14

thanks for the fun meme, @shuunthenonbeliever !

#patb #pinky and the brain #WHEEZE #if this refuses to post ONE MORE TIME #i am going to go FERAL #i have typed this all out THREE TIMES #I HAVE HAD ENOUGH #some explodey boys for y'all on saturday!#i hope.#if this episode EVER POSTS.

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spaceskam · 5 years ago

Text

our fainted thrill carries on (1/13)

and the season 2 fix it is here! warning for anxiety, ptsd, canon referenced violence (aka mentions of jesse), etc!

ao3

Michael watched Isobel drag Max’s body across the ground.

She was yelling at him to help, Liz was arguing with her, Kyle was trying his best to subdue the situation, and Rosa had left the cave pretty much the moment he entered to get away from Isobel. It was all too much for him on top of all the other bullshit he was already feeling.

His hand throbbed, aching with a dull handprint with nothing on the other side. He was attached to nothing. He supposed this was the true feeling of emptiness. The worst part was that he was still pissed at Max. He was pissed at him for being selfish, for shooting at him, for healing him, for acting like his problems didn’t matter. But wasn’t he the dick for hating a guy who was dead in front of him?

“Michael! Help me!” Isobel spat.

“That pod’s broken,” he offered limply. They all gave him their attention for some reason.

“What do you mean it’s broken?” Kyle asked. He seemed to be the only one with a level head which made sense. He was a doctor and all. Plus, he’d been slightly less likely to die in the last 48 hours than the rest of them. Felt fair that he played the calm guy.

“You put him in that thing and he gets fucked up like Noah.”

Isobel gave an irritated, mournful whine and then started tugging Max’s body in the other direction. How much did Max weigh? Over 200lbs? Probably. He was tall and he worked out, so over 200 made sense. How did alien BMI work?

“Michael! Why are you just staring?! Help me!” Isobel spat, dragging him out of his thoughts. Or, kind of. He tried to focus, he really did. It didn’t seem to work, his mind drifting away soon after she got his attention.

He didn’t like this feeling, this emptiness. It brought him back to nights alone in the airstream when Max was always busy being a cop and Isobel was always busy with everything she could get her hands on. Bringing him back to those moments brought him back to missing Alex. It ripped that band-aid off, pushing him towards that crash landing like always. He hated it. But in the moment? In the moment it felt good. Maybe he could figure out a way to have both…

“Guerin,” Kyle suddenly said, right in front of him. He genuinely looked concerned which was strange. “Are you alright? Are you in shock or are you having a panic attack? Or something else? Are you sleep-deprived?”

Michael blinked a few times and then looked around. Liz and Isobel had gotten a blanket and were in the process of getting Max’s body in that blanket to make him easier to carry since Michael was useless.

“I’m fine,” he said. Kyle gave him a look.

“Go home,” he said. Which didn’t sound right and apparently his face betrayed that. “You’re not in a good state of mind and you’re not going to help anyone, especially not yourself, if you stay here. So go home and get some sleep. Can you drive?”

Michael nodded, “I can drive.”

And drive he did.

Alex eventually gave up waiting outside Michael’s trailer, realizing that he wasn’t coming home.

He tried not to jump to conclusions about why. He knew Michael had to be going through some shit on top of what happened the day before if that little moment he’d seen him said anything. He could give him some space until he was ready.

Or, at least that’s what he thought until he entered his cabin and found Michael sitting on his couch in the dark.

“Hey,” Alex said when he saw him, locking the three locks on his door behind him. Michael didn’t look up at him, face just so painstakingly sad as he stared at the coffee table. Alex dropped his keys in the bowl beside the door and just waited for him to say something or do something.

“Max is dead,” he whispered, voice breaking, “My mom is dead and Max is dead and Isobel told me I need to move on and I tried, but I… I don’t know why I’m here.”

Alex slowly walked towards him, deciding the best option was to treat him like a wounded animal. He didn’t ask any questions as he made himself known by stepping in his line of sight. He wasn’t sure if he could actually see him, but he was trying his best. Alex noticed his hand was no longer scarred, a glowing layer on top of his skin. He ignored the mixed feelings that stirred in his stomach at the sight.

“You’re always welcome here, okay? No questions asked, no matter what you do or need,” Alex promised. Michael blinked slowly and his eyes drifted slowly to meet Alex’s, his current state of mind portraying how much he didn’t believe him. “I’m not going to be another person you lose, alright? It’s not happening. Tell me what you need.”

Michael was silent for a moment and then another before Alex realized he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know what he needed. He wondered if anyone had actually ever asked him that before. So, he stepped a little closer and slowly but surely pulled him into a hug. They didn’t hug often, but he needed it. Honestly, they both did.

What Alex didn’t say was that he was thankful he was here. Caulfield was all too fresh on his mind and, even someone as great at compartmentalizing as he was, it was hard when it involved someone he loved and that someone was not doing well in its aftermath. It was just more shit and he knew if he felt like that, Michael must’ve felt it even more. So he wasn’t going to add to it, he was going to take some away.

“I’m gonna go get you a blanket and you can sleep on the couch. I’ll call Liz or Kyle and have them fill me in, you sleep,” Alex whispered to him, trying his best to be some form of comfort. Michael held onto him for a little bit longer before eventually letting go.

Alex did as he promised, fetching a blanket from his bedroom as well as a pillow. Michael pulled off his boots and curled up on the couch while Alex covered him up. He watched him for a moment, watched him cocoon himself for some semblance of comfort. Alex’s heart ached for him, but he couldn’t just watch him all night, so he went to his room and got his phone.

He called Kyle and grabbed a notebook, taking notes as he got filled in so he’d be able to order his thoughts better. Max was dead, Rosa was alive, Isobel had insisted they work on bringing Max back, and Liz was refusing to acknowledge the facts.

“Okay, what do you need me to do?” Alex asked, drawing a line under the top half of his notes and starting his first bullet point.

“Um, I-I guess we’re going ahead and trying to fix Max,” Kyle said, his voice hesitant and unnerved. Which made sense. In the margin of the page, Alex scribbled ‘make Kyle talk about Caulfield’. “So if you can help me find a space to make a lab, I guess?”

“I can do that,” Alex agreed, “Guerin’s here by the way. I know you don’t care, but I figured Isobel might.”

“Okay, good, good. I’ll tell the girls,” Kyle said. Some rustling sounded on his end and then he spoke again in a hushed voice, “I, uh, also need to talk to you about your dad.”

Alex sat up straight, his eyebrows furrowing. His heart skipped a beat involuntarily and he grabbed the remote on his bedside table, turning on his TV that showed a screen of all the cameras he had around his house. No one was trespassing outside, the doors were all locked (though he’d double-check before he took his prosthetic off), and Michael was still in a ball on the couch.

“He tried to shoot me,” Kyle said, voice still soft but he was clearly on edge.

“Excuse me?”

“I was wearing a vest and I put him in a medically induced coma. I just got him in the hospital when Liz called me, so I know where he’s at and he’s incapacitated as of right now, but this isn’t forever. We need to move Project Shepard headquarters soon or it’s going to get bigger than this,” Kyle warned. Alex decided not to tell him that it already was bigger than this.

“Okay, I’ll work on shifting everything I’ll work on finding a lab space. Hopefully in the same building and we’ll see what we can do. We can talk more about the specifics tomorrow, I guess. Are you good, though?” Alex asked.

“I’m as good as I can be. Sore, a little confused on how to be a brother all of the sudden,” Kyle sighed, “Look, I gotta go. Liz is trying to fill Rosa in on a decade of information, so I’m gonna try to help or something. Fuck.”

“Okay, take care of yourself. Call me if anything goes bump during the night,” Alex told him.

“I will.”

They hung up without saying goodbye.

“Michael.��

Michael sighed and looked up from the car he was working. Isobel stood a few feet away, face cleaned up and dressed almost regal as if that would cover up the fact that Max died last night. He was dead. Dead, dead, dead.

“What?” he asked. She scoffed, shaking her head.

“What is going on with you? That was so uncharacteristic for you to just leave and then I find out you went to Alex’s? After everything you said yesterday?” she laid out, not wasting any time. He didn’t respond right away. He didn’t really know how to. There wasn’t much to say. He’d hit his limit.

“What do you want me to say, Isobel? Nothing happened between us, I just ended up there because…”

“Because you love him,” Isobel filled in. Michael turned his focus back to the car. “And I know nothing happened because there’s something wrong with you and I don’t know Alex that well, but I know enough that he wouldn’t do anything when you’re... like this. You were off before Max decided to play martyr. So, what happened? Tell me.”

His jaw clenched, gripping the hood of the car until his hands ached. His left hand had a glove on it, hiding the handprint that felt like a taunting reminder of everything, but it still seized up far too fast. It’d been hurting all night and now all day and Michael had to wonder what exactly Max did to him if he didn’t heal it.

“Michael,” Isobel said firmly.

“What? What do you want me to say?” he demanded, “If you knew I was so off, why didn’t you say anything when we were talking yesterday? I thought my relationship problems weren’t that big a deal compared to yours?” Her eyes narrowed at him.

“This isn’t a relationship problem,” she said, scoffing, “It feels closer to the way Max felt after he brought back Liz. Like something is literally wrong inside your head, you’re on edge.” Michael scoffed, slamming the hood and turning to face her. “I didn’t say anything then because I didn’t feel it as strong until Max’s went out. Liz thinks that since my connection to him is shut down, the one I have with you is stronger.”

He felt something hit him deep in his gut. How was she doing that? How was she talking about Max dying as if it was just a small inconvenience? Hell, he barely even liked Max half the time and it felt like much more than an inconvenience.

“Okay,” Michael said, waiting for her to go on. Waiting for her to give him more of a reason to speak.

“What is wrong with you?” she said, ordering him like always.

“Honestly, Iz, none of your business.”

He pushed past her, heading towards the airstream so he could try to order his thoughts. But she followed because of course she did.

“I reported Noah missing this morning,” she said, dropping the subject of him. That got him to stop walking. This was too much. As many times as they’d been involved with a murder, they never had been so close to that person when they were alive. Reporting him missing meant it was real, meant they were going to find him, meant they were on the radar. Isobel stepped closer, lowering her voice. “I did it so I wouldn’t be as suspicious, I need to play the part of a grieving widow and I need your help.”

“Need my help? For what?” Michael sighed. He was tired again. He’d slept so hard at Alex’s, how was he so tired already?

“Liz is going to be working on the science-y part of bringing Max back,” she said. He furrowed his eyebrows.

“What does that have to do with you playing widow?”

“I need you to help me work on my powers and work on the science part with her,” Isobel said. He still stared at her, wondering how overworking him meant helping her play a role. “But, when the time comes, I need you to be on your best behavior, okay? People know I’m friends with you and I don’t need them thinking one of us killed Noah to be together.”

Michael stared at her for a little while before nodding. What else was he supposed to do except agree? Still, she took it as a positive and hugged him.

“Also, I think I’ll have to keep some space from Liz and Rosa. Rosa kind of wasn’t happy about me staying at Max’s last night and looking at Liz kind of pisses me off right now.”

“Iz…”

“I know, I know. It’s not her fault Max did what he did, but I’m still working on that, I’ve only had a few hours,” she said. Michael nodded and she again gave him that look. “When you’re ready to talk, I’ll listen, okay?”

He wasn’t sure if he could believe that.

“So Rosa’s good and my dad’s stable?”

“Yeah, I did tests on both of them. Max literally healed her completely, like any sign that she’d ever abused narcotics are gone. Guy gave her a brand new brain,” Kyle said, rolling his eyes. Alex couldn’t help but give a little smile. “And, like I said, I’ll make sure to keep your dad under until you’re ready for it. It’ll be hard since Flint is technically his medical power of attorney, but I’m already breaking rules for worse shit, so.”

“Thank you, man, I really appreciate it,” Alex said, sipping on his beer. Kyle gave a warm smile.

“Rosa said she wants to see you, by the way,” Kyle said, sipping on his beer. Alex tilted his head. “Yeah, she told me she asked Liz to tell you, but I honestly don’t think Liz is on par with where Rosa is. Like, Rosa isn’t really adjusting to having everyone back in her life, just the time jump, so she wants her friends around and Liz is… struggling.”

“I mean, I don’t blame her. It’s gotta be hard,” he agreed. Kyle gave me a look that said ‘you have no idea’ and then took a large swig of his drink. “But, yeah, I’ll make time and I can go see her tomorrow morning.”

When Alex had woken up that morning, Michael wasn’t there anymore. However, his dirty clothes were and he’d stolen some of Alex’s because they were apparently on the level of relationship where he did his fucking laundry. Besides that, though, he made a pot of coffee before he left and Alex was content enough.

“Speaking of, uh,” Alex said, eying Kyle, “Are you good? It’s been a rough couple days. Where’s your head at?”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. “Alex Manes, are you trying to talk about feelings with me?”

Alex rolled his eyes. “Fuck off, I’m trying to be a good friend or whatever the fuck. Nevermind.”

With a laugh, Kyle said, “I’m okay, I’m just a little more paranoid which isn’t a bad thing considering. Are you okay, though? You and Guerin cut it close getting out of there.”

Alex shifted in his seat. He’d slept twice since Caulfield, but he could already tell he had a brand new shade of red added to his nightmares. Hell, the only thing that got him back to sleep the night before was seeing that Michael was safe on his couch through the cameras. Part of him wanted to ask Guerin to keep coming back every night, but he didn’t want to sound needy.

“I’ll be okay. I’m more worried about him though,” Alex admitted. Maybe he had too much to drink or too little to eat or both. Kyle didn’t say anything. “He was so shaken up.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Knowing him? Drinking and fucking with shit to pretend like he’s fine,” Alex sighed.

“Pretty sure Liz is doing the same,” Kyle said, tilting his beer bottle behind him. Sure enough, Liz was a few seats away talking to Maria and taking shots. She didn’t seem to notice that they were there.

“He did what?” Liz said, her face twisted in response to the tequila and doing a fantastic job at hiding the fact her boyfriend just died and that she was harboring a zombie.

“He just left without telling me why and now he won’t respond!” Maria groaned, rolling her eyes, “Boys are so stupid.”

“I can’t believe he was even here yesterday,” Liz laughed. Alex couldn’t help but furrow his eyebrows, listening a little closer.

“Yeah, it was honestly kinda romantic before he left. He came in after the storm and just kissed me then played guitar for me, we kissed some more,” Maria said, giving an overexaggerated pout, “But then he ruined it by ignoring me, so.”

“Give him some time. I’m sure he had a good reason,” Liz said. Maria leaned a little closer.

“You know what was weird though? I noticed when he was playing‒his hand was healed. Like, I know it wasn’t like that two days ago, that’s weird, right?”

Alex felt his heart drop, confusion tying knots in his stomach. He kissed Maria. He went to Maria after he promised he would meet Alex, but then chose to go to him after Max died. What the hell did that mean? Was he too embarrassed to be sad in front of her? And to think he almost bought that she would actually step away.

But they weren’t together. Even if Caulfield happened, even if he tried to get his point across, even if he threw his dirty jeans in with his uniform that morning. They weren’t together.

Alex cleared his throat and tried to focus back on Kyle who was already watching him.

“You wanna go?” Kyle asked before he could even try to act like that hadn’t thrown him for a loop.

“Yes, actually.”

“Got it.”

“Oh, shit, you got buff.”

“Don’t tell him that.”

Alex grinned nonetheless, rolling his eyes as Rosa felt his biceps during their hug. He’d forgotten how much he missed her. It felt weird, hugging her and being reminded that she had been his idol back in the day. He’d wanted so badly to be like her when he was young, but now she was still 19 and he had grown out of everything she taught him.

“He already thinks he’s hot shit,” Kyle added once they pulled away.

“As if you don’t think you’re hot shit,” Alex shot back.

“Boys, boys, don’t fight, you’re both pretty,” Rosa insisted. They both let out soft laughs, sitting on the couch of Max Evans’ house like it was normal. But he supposed it would have to become normal.

“Where exactly is Liz?” Kyle asked, “I mean, I know they found Noah’s body this morning, but I thought she’d be here with you.”

“She left this morning to go to work and I think she has plans to meet up with the aliens to discuss what to do with the white savior,” Rosa explained. Alex snorted, folding in his lips to suppress a laugh.

“So, just a question, who all knows about this alien bullshit? Like who am I allowed to talk to?” Rosa asked, “Because the idea of being stuck here forever with just Liz and Isobel Evans dropping by kinda makes me want to scream.” Alex laughed, rubbing his leg mindlessly as he readjusted on Max’s stiff couch.

“Um, I think you’re all caught up on who knows. Me, Kyle, Michael, Isobel, Liz. That’s it, I think,” Alex said. He was technically leaving out a couple people, but that was territory he wasn’t in the mood for. Besides, those were the only people that mattered.

“What about Maria?”

“Why do you know, but not Maria?” Rosa asked, gesturing to Alex. That confused him and he looked to Kyle as if trying to understand why that had anything to do with anything. However, it became a little more clear when he remembered just how much of a package deal they’d been at one point in life.

“So, I don’t really wanna get into all the gritty details, but my dad was involved with alien shit. I found out through that and I’ve been using my military clearance to make sure no one gets caught when they do things like resurrect dead girls,” Alex pointed out, giving a teasing smile. Rosa snorted.

“You went into the military?”

“Air Force,” he said. She scoffed and leaned back into the couch, shaking her head at him.

“No wonder Liz thinks you’ve changed.”

Alex cocked an eyebrow. “She said that?”

“I mean, yeah,” Rosa said, “I asked if you could come over, but she acted like you weren’t the same person that you were when I saw you last and I had to ask Quarterback here to even get in touch with you.” Alex tried to not let that hit so hard. It made enough sense. It must’ve been hard to like him now that he wasn’t so nice, right? He shifted in his seat and Rosa, of course, spotted it immediately. “But fuck that, you know? I know Alex and you still own a room, so you’re still there.”

“He definitely does more than own a room now though,” Kyle jumped in. Rosa made a face like she didn’t have to be convinced to believe that.

“What about your music, though? Or boys? C’mon, give me all the gossip, I’ve missed out on a decade of boy drama. Spill.”

“Okay, I can’t really help on this topic, so I’m gonna raid the kitchen,” Kyle decided, earning laughs from both of them as he exited. But Rosa just leaned forward, eager for whatever he had to say.

“I don’t have much boy drama, sorry to disappoint,” he said, smiling sweetly. She rolled her eyes.

“Bullshit, you’re a fine piece of ass and you always have been,” Rosa insisted. Laughter bubbled out of Alex easier than it had in weeks. “At least what about Michael? He’s still around, so, like, something happened.”

Alex smiled a little sadly as she brought him up. He’d almost forgotten that she was the only one who knew, mainly because she was the only one who could see it from a mile away. He didn’t have to tell her anything, she just knew. She felt like his only safe space for so long and it was strange to remember that maybe, just maybe, he could have that back.

“Well, to shorten a long story, we’ve been kinda on and off since high school. We’re both just… It’s hard to be with someone when their family literally hunted your entire family, you know? I don’t blame him for not wanting me anymore,” he blurted. Rosa tilted her head, looking at him without a single ounce of pity. He loved her for it.

“Alex, fuck that. You’re a good person and if he doesn’t get that, then fuck him,” she said. He smiled and tossed his head back on the couch, groaning slightly.

“No, no, it’s just a lot. We keep just fucking up around each other. I push him away, he pushes me away, we never seem to be on the same page,” Alex tried.

“Then get on the same damn page,” she insisted. He looked over to her.

“How?”

“Alex, I know this sounds scary, but you speak to him.”

He huffed a laugh, glossing over how terrifying that actually sounded.

Talking with Rosa again felt like a certain type of therapy he didn’t know he needed, even if it was weird to throw Kyle in the mix. She was always able to unscramble things in his brain in a way that he understood. Even if right now, they were simply talking about what she’d missed over the last decade and they were skipping the serious stuff. This felt good.

A few hours passed and they’d agreed to hang out more until they could figure out what they were actually going to do about her. Honestly, it felt like the first conversation Alex had had in a while that wasn’t life or death. It was casual. And you know what?

Alex felt better.

The night before, after Alex had gotten back from the bar, Michael had shown up and let himself inside.

He was wearing his own clothes, the ones he stole from Alex nowhere to be seen, and crawled onto the couch without a word. Alex had watched in silent amazement as he re-locked the door without looking. He hoped one day he wouldn’t be so impressed every time Michael used his telekinesis. It would have to happen one day. Today wasn’t that day, though, and they shared no words as Alex let him sleep there. As confused as he was, he promised him a safe space and he wasn’t going to take that away.

If he slept a little better that night having Michael so close, no one had to know.

Tonight, Michael did the same thing. Alex, however, feeling a little more confident after his talk with Rosa, walked over to the back of the couch. With a mug of tea in his hands, he peered down at the man he loved more than anything in the world. He looked rough and sad, but equally adorable as he had the blanket pulled up to his nose. Eventually, he felt eyes on him.

“Is this your way of telling me to go?” Michael asked, his voice set like he expected this to happen despite the fact he never opened his eyes. Alex shook his head.

“No, I said you’re welcome and I meant it,” Alex told him, “But I do want to make it clear that I meant what I said before that too. I want to feel like myself and I want to stop fighting stupid battles and work on separating myself from my father. That means if we’re going to be around each other, things have to be different. We can’t repeat. We need to be completely open with each other so I can help you and your siblings.”

Michael opened his eyes, looking up at him with skepticism. He was always so skeptical of Alex unless they were fucking. What did that say about them as people?

“What if I don’t want your help?”

“Well, too bad. I’m doing it for more than just you. Which means I’m re-enlisting and I’m finding a space for you, Kyle, and Liz to use as a lab while working on whatever the hell Isobel is trying to do with Max that’ll be under military-grade protection,” Alex said honestly. Michael sat up so quick he almost fell off the couch. “But that being said, I would like your permission to look into your mother for just you.”

“Alex, I can’t let you‒”

“I want to.”

They stared at each other for a moment, letting the words sink in.

“Okay. Only if you want to,” Michael said, clearly still processing everything despite his words. Alex licked his lips and took a sip of his tea.

“And I know that you kissed Maria the other day,” Alex said boldly. Michael’s eyes flickered back up to him, frozen like he expected that to be the moment he was kicked out. “We’re not together, so I can’t be mad. But I’m letting you know I know.”

Michael just stared at him, not knowing what to say. That felt good. No wonder Michael left him speechless all the damn time. The power that held made him feel like he had control for once in his damn life.

“You’re still welcome here,” Alex told him before saying his goodnight and letting him curl back up on the couch.

Because, as honest as Alex was feeling, he couldn’t tell him how much he needed him only a few feet away.

#malex #malex fic #michael guerin #alex manes #roswell new mexico #my fic #our fainted thrill carries on #season 2 fix it

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seyaryminamoto · 5 years ago

Text

A decade in review

So... I figured I’d join the corny crowd of people who are talking about their growth and achievements this decade. Looking back can actually help a lot when you lose sight of where you’re standing or where you’re going, soooo...

I started this decade halfway through writing an original story that I didn’t take all that seriously at the time. I was in ninth grade, so sure, I was young... and yet, as some people might know, I was clawing my way out of the worst depression I’ve ever faced. If you guys thought you’d seen my low points... yeah, no, I’ve never again hit a low point as badly as I did back then. Yet even though difficult things happened through the rest of the decade, I learned enough lessons from that early, terrible and distressing time (which happened at the end of the previous decade, to be precise, which is why it’s honestly not worth going into right now) that I managed to stay afloat, even if not easily, upon each new opportunity where depressions knocked on my door up to date.

Now, beyond my mental health, I was still in music school at the start of 2010, and I was certainly no longer as enthusiastic about it as I had been when I first enrolled. I didn’t realize at the time that my calling was something else entirely... and the more I wrote that story I mentioned above, the more I leaned away from one branch of art and towards another.

I think I got my first graphic tablet either in 2009 or 2010, at one of my birthdays. My sister dropped the pen on the first day, the tip broke and I flew into the worst of rages :’D she was so apologetic about it, I don’t think I’d ever seen her quite so remorseful, which was why I toned down eventually and cut her slack, did my best not to bring it up again... anyways, I learned to draw with that thing despite the malfunctioning pen, and the first artworks I did weren’t exactly brilliant... here’s one of them, one of the few I actually finished :’D

... Safe to say, I’ve learned a lot since those days, right? :’D

(also, if anyone wonders, that artwork features the main characters of that original story I mentioned, the original file is dated for April 2010, so indeed, a file from early on in the decade :’D)

Slowly, but surely, my life started to revolve more and more around writing and reading/watching stories of all sorts. I’d spend hours and hours every day watching anime (yep, my weaboo phase in full swing!), I’d devour most books that fell into my hands, and I even ended up volunteering at a library (does it really count as volunteering if the government forces you to volunteer or else you can’t graduate from high school...? Hmmmmmm...). I actually chose that library because most other options were basically to play babysitter for either kids or senior citizens, and I sure didn’t think I was equipped to deal with either thing. A library, though, meant I’d work with books most of all, and I was pretty sure I’d be more useful at that job.

Cue the irony that, because I was apparently so helpful, they decided to give me more important duties, such as DESK DUTY, because the other volunteers weren’t as trustworthy as me, and bye-bye to working directly with books. Haha. Sad.

But that temporary, sort-of job at that library definitely changed my outlook on my future, even if it felt like such a fortuitous thing, something I was forced to do rather than choosing to do it of my own volition.

For all my life I’d felt a ton of pressure because my family is always more science-oriented than any other I’ve ever met. So I had to excel at school because that was expected of me (all my siblings had, so I couldn’t lag behind them, I’d been disgustingly competitive with my siblings for too long to reason with it yet), and I actually was decent at science subjects. I blindly thought that science was the only possible path for me in life. I was seriously planning on going into engineering because I more or less enjoyed chemistry... but every time I thought about what it meant to finish a major in engineering of any sort, I always ended up asking myself one question: would I have time to write in that sort of career?

The mere thought of office work, lab work, which were guaranteeed to be the best thing I could aspire to once I finished college for engineering, sounded like a morbid funeral march to me. I honestly found myself thinking that’d be a waste of my life. And that’s not to say anyone who actually spends their life that way is wasting theirs, but I KNEW it wasn’t my calling.

One day, while at that library, I realized what my actual calling was: I wanted that life. I wanted to work with books, whether making them or writing them or selling them or just about anything to do with the business. A mix of my crazy storytelling passion with that particular job experience brought me to the conclusion that I needed to forsake my family’s big ole’ scientific legacy and to make my own choices. My three siblings could easily enough carry forward that “legacy”, I could do my thing instead.

I think that decision, which took more courage than I thought I had, was probably one of the best I’ve made in my entire life. Telling my mother I’d go into literature was NOT easy and I literally had to make the equivalent of a sales pitch for her to agree to it, investigating all I could about the career, researching as much as possible to show her there WERE career possibilities I could pursue if I chose this major, until she finally relented. And that success meant I was off to a whole new world of crazy once I graduated from high school.

Which I did indeed, in 2012. I wouldn’t start college until 2013 because my major’s first semester wouldn’t start until March, so I had a nice long break because the school year, in my country, ends in July. I had been exhausted of studying at the time, so the break was absolutely welcome.

In the early stages of that time period, I actually finished that big ole’ original story of mine, and I couldn’t have been prouder of myself for it, even if I was sure I’d never show it to anyone. I was embarrassed of it, to a fault, because there was a lot of ridiculousness in it, the plot was all over the place despite following the storytelling beats I’d learned through the many anime I’d watched, and eventually it evolved into something completely different from what it started out as. I sometimes allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to write a big story that I could share with people and hopefully get more than a handful of readers for... Still, I tucked my original story away safely, because even if it was embarrassing, I was proud of what I’d learned with it. So I went on with a new original story, one I was DEAD SURE I’d be a better writer for, and that I would be much more successful with.

My sister visited us during that summer, and she showed me, my other sister and my mom, a certain TV series that she had very much enjoyed despite we had never thought much of it back when it was airing.

I’d seen a couple of episodes back in the day, but none had quite impressed me. The first episode I saw had made the show appear like some sort of lame “villain of the week” show, and the second one (I probably only caught the second half of this one) had such mixed values and morals that I was completely appalled by it and decided it wasn’t my thing. Then I, uh, also watched the final minutes of the final episode and it seemed so very melodramatic for the SCARRED GUY to ask SOME IMPRISONED GUY where his mother was, only for the show not to address the answer at all and cut to a pair of kids kissing on a balcony.

Sooooo... my very unimpressed self had decided ATLA wasn’t my thing because of The Great Divide, the Southern Raiders and the last three minutes of Sozin’s Comet: Avatar Aang :’) I’m funny that way.

This time around, watching it from scratch, I was slightly more interested in it because the first few episodes DID look like there was a coherent plot that was going somewhere. So even though my mom and other sister didn’t keep watching (at the time), I decided to watch it by myself because well, why not?

... Cut to seven years later and here I am, still neck-deep in this particular, dark corner of that specific show’s fandom. September of 2012 was when the Seyary you all know came into existence (?)

I won’t lie and say my experience in this fandom hasn’t been a damn rollercoaster in its own right. I certainly started off with WAY more enthusiasm than I have now, just look at my Author’s Notes from my first stories or Gladiator’s first chapters and read my hyped notes for yourselves :’D I definitely was caught by the magic of the Avatarverse, the characters, so much about ATLA seemed to exude potential and, after being disappointed by the popular anime of the time (*cough* SAO *cough*), ATLA (and later LOK Book 1) were a breath of fresh air for my weaboo brain that was sick and tired of some really annoying tropes anime seemed to be throwing at me left right and center (I’M SO DONE WITH THE IMOUTO FETISH TO THIS DAY, I CATEGORICALLY REFUSE TO WATCH OR READ ANY DAMN STORY WITH ANYTHING FEATURING THAT GROSS AND FUCKED-UP CONCEPT).

So I enjoyed ATLA a lot, and then LOK Book 1 (I virtually watched all of that in one day and had REALLY HIGH HOPES for the next seasons. Heh. I’ll leave that as that). And like everyone who gets hyped about fandoms, I decided I needed to look up more stuff about it! Art, fics, you name it! And while I really enjoyed LOK back then, I had thought Korra’s story would unfold in a cool way in future seasons, since all four of them (I think) had been confirmed by the time I joined the fandom... whereas I was dissatisfied and in dire need of fix-it situations for my favorite ATLA character.

I started off looking for general Azula fics. Then, as usual, I started testing ships for her. There were some ships I never saw the point to, and I shall not name them, there were some ships I saw partial potential to but I wasn’t exactly thrilled about them, so again I shall not name them...

And then one day I was scouring DeviantArt and came across the gem you all know about, which I’ve gushed over for all these seven years as the entire reason I converted to this particular ship.

Secret Kiss by Saniika can be credited, 100%, for planting the seed of Sokkla in my head. I didn’t understand it right away, why lie, but I was definitely intrigued. All other Azula ships I’d found were shipped for obvious reasons, easy enough to pinpoint even if none was all that satisfactory for me... so I was confused by this one, absolutely. Why would someone ship this ship? Why would they ship it so hard as to commission such quality artwork about them? The same commissioner’s name popped up in pretty much every single epic artwork about these two at the time, and I was completely blown away by that. To be so dedicated to a ship, to make all those artworks about a huge story about them that I couldn’t seem to find in FF.net at the time...

Cue the surprise when I actually ended up befriending said commissioner barely a few months later, and she’s hands down one of the best friends I’ve ever had :’)

Still, no need to head into that particular territory right now xD I was curious about the pairing, but I was also wary. I looked for fics, none really seemed to tell canon-compliant stories about how they could have gotten together post-ATLA... at least, not while they were still young. I looked at a few stories but nothing really hit home yet.

Back in these days, I used to go to... gosh, the cringe of just saying so, to FACEBOOK for fandom purposes of all kinds. Yeah, I know Facebook communities aren’t necessarily terrible, but I sure as fuck ended up in all the wrong ones :’) so... heh. I befriended someone who had an Avatar page, and while in conversation with him, the subject of LOK’s Pro-Bending came up. We talked about how much fun it would be for ATLA’s benders to play it. And so, a few weeks later, on a bus ride back home after meeting some high school friends, I allowed the idea to blossom further. And suddenly I was 100% caught up in it, deciding I’d have to feature Azula somehow, and I decided to try my luck at doing that by making her Sokka’s girlfriend :’D his inexplicable girlfriend, at the moment. All of it, just for shits and giggles. Because why not!

So I wrote that story, both because of that momentary bout of inspiration and because my second big original story was falling apart on me due to world-building reasons. Do NOT ever talk to me about Celtic calendars. If you do, I will block you into infinity (?). So yeah! A writer’s block caused by Celtic calendars resulted in my decision to calm down by writing something else for a change.

I had little hopes to finish Origins of Pro-Bending, simply because I didn’t write fics. Whenever I had tried to write any around those years, it had NOT gone well. I had always fallen apart after a couple of chapters, failed to keep up the momentum, fumbled the story as a whole in the end. So I decided to take this easy, and I posted it to FF.net despite not being sure I was ready for that: I hadn’t written a story in English in AGES, and you do NOT want to know what was the story in English I’d written before this. You do not. If you even ask, I WILL BLOCK YOU EVEN MORE THAN I DID WITH THE CALENDAR! *heavy breathing*

Okay, so... back to the topic, I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t really expect much, because I figured not a lot of people would really care for anything I posted. But then... that view counter started to shift. The numbers kept going up, and the more chapters I posted, the more it did. The reviews also poured in, slowly at this point, and then in a certain chapter there were NO REVIEWS AT ALL. Which I considered a fail. I honestly thought it meant my story was a flop, a failure, and I should just STOP because NO ONE CARED.

... Have I ever been accused of being overly dramatic? If not, it’s only because I hide it relatively well... sometimes :’)

But I said “it’s okay, I’ll finish it. My friend wants to read it after all, and I’ll just write it so he can see it to the end. I’ll finish uploading on FF.net even if no one cares anymore, because maybe someone someday will want to read it, even if no one does now”.

... Overly dramatic Seyary then finished her story and halfway there came up with the idea for a NEW ONE! The PREQUEL! The story of how Sokka and Azula fell in love! All by listening to The Reason. And as much as I had thought I wouldn’t keep writing fics after OoPB, that idea was too powerful to ignore. So when OoPB picked up reviews and views all over again and ended with what I considered was a BANG, I said “THIS SHOW’S NOT GONNA STOP HERE!” and I went and wrote the Reason next, obsessively, literally pushing through the entire, near 100K story, in A MONTH. I honestly wrote every day. I’d NEVER done something like that :’) Granted, I was pretty constant with OoPB, but it was shorter and I wasn’t quite as psyched about it as I was with The Reason.

Honestly, The Reason is where I REALLY fell for Sokkla, for everything that it was, for everything that it could be. I had felt its potential since OoPB, and I had concluded Sokka could make Azula smile like next to no one else could... that is, if anyone else could at all. But the whole spectrum of it, the storytelling potential, the development of both characters... I hadn’t understood it yet. And by the time I did, with The Reason... wow, there really was no turning back.

So I ended up writing that, and then I wrote Break In and How They All Reacted. And in between I made a few AMVs that Viacom NICELY tore down and are no longer available for you guys. Sorry ‘bout that. I did what I could.

The thing that was getting to me most, though, (and, why lie, feeding my ego a bit too much) was looking at FF.net’s data spreadsheets, available only for each user: it wasn’t so much the number of readers, which did overwhelm me on its own right anyhow... it was the places they came from. The fact that I could see, according to this data, that people in South Africa were opening my story, in Romania, in New Zealand, in Singapore... I had allowed myself, very briefly, to imagine I would one day publish books and that they might not be complete fails, but I NEVER expected anything I wrote to be read by people who lived halfway across the world, who had entireliy different cultures from my own, who had no idea who I was but wanted to find something to read and had decided to click on my story, amongst all the many possibilities. That particular function of FF.net is probably my favorite on that site, like I said not because of the numbers but because of the places. Even if your readers aren’t outspoken or they don’t even bother favoriting, following or reviewing... they still count in ways they don’t imagine. They may just look like one more number on FF.net’s spreadsheets, but when that number is connected to a location it feels much more real, I think. As an author, that means that’s one more person, somewhere in the world, who decided to give my story a chance.

On a day of February, 2013, one such person left a review I really enjoyed and that I thanked him for profusely. In his response, he brought up that he had been watching documentaries about the Roman Empire and he had thought about an AU for ATLA where maybe Sokka was captured by the Fire Nation and turned into a gladiator, only to become Azula’s sponsored fighter later on, a fighter she’d want to sponsor merely to stave off boredom. He was bringing it up to me because he didn’t want to write it himself, and he thought maybe I would be interested in trying my hand at it since I seemed so passionate about Sokka and Azula.

At first I only thanked him for the idea, said I wanted to focus on my canon-based stories instead and I was sooooo not interested in AUs at the time...

Ahahahaha.

AHAHAHAHA.

Joke was on me the whole time.

As I’ve mentioned, I went to bed one day, about a month later, and my brain exploded with the possibilities of this story. I told this guy, he was thrilled. I told my closest fandom friends at the time, they were STOKED. One of them told me to get off my ass and start writing that ASAP. Which... I followed through with. Immediately.

It feels a bit strange to think I’ve been writing the same story for nearly 7 years now, with next to no breaks, with such persistence I barely can recognize my early 2010′s self from that. Nope, no worldbuilding nonsense stopped me here: I FIGURED THINGS OUT. I worked through it all. And then I figured it out some more.

Back when I was first scouting the fandom’s fanfiction archives (in FF.net in particular, seeing as I didn’t even have an AO3 account at the time), I remember looking at the biggest, top reviewed stories and wondering how it would feel to be the author of one of those. Most those stories had gotten started either early in the show’s run, or just earlier that same decade... nothing I did was bound to pick up that much steam, I thought, especially when I was writing about what was, by all means, a rarepair that I posted about on Tumblr to like... 8 notes per post. At best.

The first time someone sent me an ask to let me know Gladiator had made it into the first page of top reviewed fics I nearly fell over myself in shock. Admittedly, I’ve gotten used to the feeling by now... but at the time I could barely believe I’d come THAT far without really expecting or meaning to.

I’ve really dealt with a lot of nonsense alongside with the story, ups and downs, highs and lows, nasty situations just as blissful ones... people making art for my story was certainly an incredible highlight. That, as well, is something I did NOT think would ever happen to me. Unlike the top-reviewed page thing, it’s actually impossible to get used to art about your fic xD it’s always amazing.

And I’ve met people from all around the world, made friends far and wide, reached heights I didn’t think I would. I’ve said I’m much more jaded these days, it’s true enough, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost sight of what this story means in the long run. Gladiator truly is the best story I’ve ever written, in just about every regard. Is it perfect? Have I made nothing but right decisions with it? Nah. But that doesn’t mean I’m not absolutely proud of it for what it is, for all the work I’ve poured into it, for every moment spent building that story into what it is and for how far I’ve come thanks to it.

Everything else in the decade really feels like a blur because of Gladiator, but I’ll say that I’ve as good as finished college by now (while writing Gladiator :’D), I have written all my thesis and am stuck waiting endlessly for my supervisor to goddamn answer me already to say whether I’m ready to go forward with the presentation yet and GRADUATE! But until then I’m stuck waiting on that, even if my college career is pretty much over.

As for my work experience... heh. I had two of those this decade. One... writing clickbait articles. Wow, was that shitty. I hated every second of it. I was pretty sure I was killing people by doing that, because some people are indeed gullible enough to believe the shit I was forced to write. And the pay? It was SHIT. So, as soon as I had a good excuse, I kicked that particular door shut and got out of that mess immediately. And then I got my TV station job too... which started great, and ended up being another shitty disaster. While it had some really wonderful highlights, I made friends with this senior, wonderful video editor who was endearing beyond belief, I learned a ton of things I wouldn’t have learned otherwise (like having the patience to put up with an iMac from 2009 in 2018, to name one thing!), but I also had to endure REALLY dreadful management that led me to even wonder how the damn network was even on-air half the time. The experience in that network taught me a lot about what to expect in work environments, and to NEVER trust the tried, boring and true “this place feels like a family!” claim. Half the time it’s like they don’t realize families are usually complicated, full of unpleasant power-based relationships, secrets, resentment and problems of all sorts. So sure, the workplace might be like a family. Definitely not like a GOOD family, though.

And speaking of families... I’ve developed new appreciation for mine over these years, just as I’ve grown enough to see the cracks everywhere, the problems, even all the way to realizing even an allegedly dream-like family like my own can absolutely be torn apart by miscommunication, pride, stubbornness and refusal of members to acknowledge their wrongdoings. I’ve done my best by my family despite that’s not saying much, I’m indeed a lazy butt who spends way too much time on a computer writing crazy stories rather than working around the house... but I think I’ve never felt more loved and appreciated by my parents as I have in recent times, especially this year. We’ve talked more, opened up more, they’ve even told me the story of how they fell in love (the growth of their relationship all documented through PHOTO ALBUMS!!), they’ve leaned on me in hard times and I think we’re tighter than ever.

On the downside... my grandfather died during this decade too. To this day the loss stings, even though by all means we weren’t the type of super-close grandfather and granddaughter who spend every waking moment together. But the thing is... we were so different, with so little in common, and yet that man loved me so genuinely, so unconditionally I could barely understand it. What had I ever done to be so important to him, beyond being his youngest granddaughter? I always had thought he would feel closer to other of his grandchildren, those who had more things in common with him, and yet when my grandmother died he wanted me to sit with him on the car on our way to the funeral, and just holding my hand seemed to help him gain strength to face what was coming.

In his final moments he hardly recognized anyone, not even my dad, his son. He kept talking about his childhood home, as though he had returned to his youth and forgotten where and when he was, losing all connection with time and space. But when my dad told him I was there, visiting him... he smiled. And he called me the nickname he always used for me. To the last moment, he knew who I was. I mattered, even if I didn’t know why. When they told me he had passed away I cried, and I cried some more, and to this day I feel like crying for it still, sometimes. I will never, EVER doubt my grandfather truly loved me, and I’ll always carry that with me, no matter where the world goes. I’ve lucked out with this family, but I’d never known unconditional love like the one he always showed me. He was a special man, and losing him certainly was one of the saddest moments in this decade.

Aaalright, so, on a less emotional note... I’ve certainly improved a fuckload with my art, which you all must imagine after the glimpse at one of my earliest artworks up there. That I’ve gone from that to this...

speaks for itself, I hope :’) It’s supposed to be same characters, this one was finished earlier this month. I didn’t post it until now because I frankly didn’t expect anyone would understand what it was or care for it much x’D but it seemed the right opportunity to post it now, especially when talking about art growth.

In any case, I may still have a ton of anxiety to this day, and I definitely am not as confident in many areas as I was when the decade began, I realized I honestly don’t have all the answers and I always have to be ready to learn new things from people, no matter who it is. There’s some regards in which I haven’t progressed enough in, why lie... but I’m hoping the next decade will bring meaningful changes in that department, such as my plans to leave the country, which should come to fruition by next year around March, if all things go according to keikaku (I’ll surely have to return after 6 months, but it’s better than nothing at least). And of course, I do hope I’ll continue to grow as a writer, that all this experience with Gladiator will mean I’ll be 100% ready to write any future original stories I want to (and that I’ll be able to rewrite that specific story and move beyond the slump I fell into because of the DAMN CELTIC CALENDAR!!).

Also, just in case I didn’t get it across in other posts where I mentioned it, I revisited that old original story last year, and despite the messes and mistakes and ridiculousness of it... I love it more now than I ever did before. I’m really proud of it. I know most people cringe at everything they wrote when they were younger... I honestly can’t do anything but look back in pride. My starting point was the best one it could possibly have been.

Now, what’s my resolution for the next decade?

Finishing Gladiator

Yeah, there’s probably going to be other stuff I’ll want to do too. But for now, that shall be the priority. It won’t take just a year, it probably won’t take two... but I will absolutely see this big, chaotic baby to the last moment, and I will savor and suffer and cry and rejoice every step of the way. There is much left I want to achieve, many new objectives to conquer, and I’m going towards them with as open a mind as I can muster. May this 2020, and the years that follow, mark a new starting point that I’ll look back on with pride, just as I can do the same with where I started off in 2010.

Happy New Year to all of you who read this really long post, and I really hope you have a great year and decade, and starting point of your own, in 2020.

#seyary rambling #sorta personal but #you're all welcome to read it #if you have like #20+ minutes to spare #did anyone ever praise me for brevity #no they did not #should i be proud of that #no i am not #that's one more thing I probably should learn in the coming decade #to cut myself slack #and my words #because I ramble too much :')#anyhow #happy new year to all of you through the tags in case you don't care to read the post #it has been one really crazy decade #one I never expected to end the way it is ending #but admittedly I've come much further than I ever thought I would #may the next decade be better though

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samsterham · 5 years ago

Text

The Fuckening, Entry # 1

Despite the novel covid-19 being around for a pretty hot minute now, I have only been self-quarantined about 6 days. There have been several confirmed cases in my county, and today the county had it’s first death.

If it’s not apparent by the title, I’ve decided to officially from here on out refer to this entire debacle as The Fuckening. I will swear. A lot.

I figure it might be somehow lucrative to record my experiences throughout the pandemic, at least as it is pertinent to my country & area. Aside from broader, more public events, it might be interesting to someday look back on my day to day & how we dealt & felt & what we did. I should have been keeping a diary of my life anyway & had intended to despite never making it a priority. Now is as good a time as any.

Anyhow, I anticipate this being a rather disjointed project, variable in moods, topics, formats, etc. & rife with grammatical errors. I haven’t decided how revealing of my identity & location I would like to be, I suppose that’s something I’ll decide as I go. All I’ll reveal for the moment is I live in the U.S. in Pennsylvania.

Recapping what I can right now:

I’m in about day 6 of self-quarantine. All schools have cancelled regular classes and have gone exclusively online, as has happened pretty much everywhere else. My community college also followed suit along with probably every college & university at this point. I’ve had a little over a week off for faculty & staff to prepare for the shift. Class resumes this upcoming wednesday online for the rest of the semester. Curious to how they’re going to structure & grade our biology lab credits.

Bars & restaurants have been state-mandated to shut down except for take-out. Now the liquor stores have shut down as well. Somehow the beer distributor down the street is still open however...

Me & K (boyfriend) haven’t gone nuts with preparations, but we did have 1 significant shopping trip before the state officially began recommending social distancing. We got enough non-perishables for several weeks. We’ve made a couple mini trips for things like milk & fresh veggies.

I also have a few immunocompromised friends who I’ve gone shopping for. I expect to continue doing so as needed. One such friend has a bitch of a rare disease which is frankly on the verge of killing her if she sneezes or coughs too hard. There is so, so much more to it than that, than I dare go into here for privacy reasons but I have spent the last month as one of her actual medical advocates. She is partly the reason I would like to focus my education and eventual clinical research on rare diseases such as hers. Anyhow, despite it being flat out unsafe, she was discharged from the hospital yesterday as my city prepares to get slammed with covid-19 cases.

Both my cats got a stomach bug just 2 days into self-quarantine. It began with Crowley puking, then what looked like bloody emesis & trip to the emergency vet. Sent home with stomach meds & instructions for supportive care before jumping into more than basic testing. He was fine within 36 hours, just in time for Aziraphale to become a little vom-bomb. This lasted for 3 days, with many debates as to when we should finally get her poor little fuzz butt medical attention. She thankfully healed on her own, just as I was about to break down & take her to the vet.

Not to make light of the fact that they were sick, but Zira’s throw-up noise is THE FUNNIEST sound I’ve ever heard in my life. It begins with that usual choppy but also deep guttural *hork hork hork* followed by a very abrupt & very loud scream “rrRAAHH!” as things made their way up & out. I couldn’t help but kinda lose my shit as I pet her & cleaned up the mess. I’m probably going to hell for this.

Me & K have enjoyed spending more time together during quarantine. We have only had 3 friends over since, all being of our regular weekly crew of Sarah, Greg, & Amanda, & all of who are otherwise self-quarantined. Sarah & Amanda came over last Saturday, Sarah made “Quarantinis,” a goddamn delicious cocktail of vodka, lemon, honey, & crystalized ginger. Us girls & K got quaran-trashed, ate dinner together, played Cards Against Humanity, & watched Waking Ned Devine.

We have been making the FUCK outta some food. This is easily the healthiest we’ve eaten in a long time. Thank God we both can cook.

The weather has been fairly forgiving & the two of us have made efforts to get outside as much as possible while it’s nice. K works from home with some good flexibility & I was fired about a month before corona shit hit the fan. We’re enjoying the local parklette & the humongous cemetery in walking distance from us.

Yesterday was mostly blustery & rainy, save for a 2 hour break in the weather where it was sunny and around 70 degrees. We trekked through said cemetery. As we were on our way out, we rounded the bend of one of the long paths, along the side of a large grassy hill. From that initial perspective of the hill, there was a large pile of indiscernible objects about halfway up the hill. As we came around, we noticed the pile was next to a grave very freshly covered in dirt. Upon closer inspection it became apparent that the “pile” was actually a man wrapped in blankets, with one arm stretched over the dirt of the grave. On the road at the bottom of the hill was what I assumed to be his car. I don’t know who he was, I don’t know who he lost, but they’re burned into my memory forever. It was one of those sights that breaks your entire heart. I cried a little & held K’s hand a little tighter as we made our way toward the gate. K kissed the top of my head & gave me a loving squeeze.

I didn’t get fired over anything serious; my chronic migraines plus a personal failure to obtain intermittent FMLA in a timely manner resulted in termination. My bosses didn’t want to let me go, but you can only fight HR of a corporate health system so much. Oh well. I wasn’t happy there anymore anyway. After 3 years I was bored, having trained up as much as possible without my degree. Some toxic personalities made their way onto our floor staff in the last year which made some shifts absolute hell despite my efforts to avoid them & remain utterly professional. Aside from running out of money, I’ve been incredibly relaxed since being let go. I’ve even lost 4 pounds in the last month. My hair is currently a weird ginger-pink, the result of a failed self bleach job, but it’s not entirely embarrassing so I’m going to let it recover before I try it again & go teal.

I never got around to watching Breaking Bad when it was popular, but last night I finally saw the first episode. K has seen it before, it’s one of his favorite tv shows & he’s ecstatic to watch it together. One episode legit got me hooked already. I know the premise of the show & I can’t wait to see how it pans out.

The political fuckery around this has been.... ugh. I wanted to say “staggeringly defunct” but what else is there to be expected from this current administration? I have designed most of my tumblr to be apolitical but that will change with these specific entries. I’m politically outspoken on Facebook & Twitter & I wanted one or two platforms that could just be fun and neutral. My current politics are very leftist, a head-spinning 180 degree turn from my upbringing & early voting habits. The last four years have sent me purposefully, intentionally & determinedly headlong into the progressive movement, feminism, and hunger for democratic socialism. The only conservative thing left about me is my stubborn remaining infatuation with firearms & gratitude for the 2A. Counterintuitively I’m very pro-sensible gun control, but having the discussion with either side of the issue mostly leaves me wanting to knock heads together.

I digress, the administration’s response to the pandemic has been unsurprisingly subpar, yet somehow not as awful as I expected. Trump went from “not a big deal” & “liberal media hoax” to “oh shit, I actually better get my shit together for this” real quick. I don’t know if it’s because it’s an election year or if there’s actually a shred of competency that’s been hiding under the comb-over but I’ll take what we can get from him, including that $1000 check. Getting unemployment has been a bitch. None of this however, changes the fact that Republicans have known about the crisis since December & instead of preparing the public, decided insider trading was a better idea. This doesn’t change the fact that the DOJ is trying to invoke indefinite detention as a “crisis response” and the only thing standing in the way are House Democrats. And it doesn’t change the fact that our hospital system is overloaded & underfunded, and the Republican controlled government would still rather bail out large corporations as we plunge into an inevitable recession.

I’ve spent too much energy fighting ignorant shit sticks on the internet over all this, including people I know in real life. I gotta keep remembering that all I can do is my best, that you can’t change the world but you can make a dent. On that note, I finally introduced K to Danny DeVito’s cinematic masterpiece Death To Smoochy.

Today I finished reading Darker Than Amber by John D. MacDonald. Quick, fun read, definitely a product of it's time.

That’s all I have in me for today. My neck hurts. Sleep sweet and WASH YOUR FILTHY PAWS.

#covid19 #covid_19 #corona virus #coronavirus #quarantine #social distancing #wash your damn hands #diary #journal #the fuckening #the fuckening diary #death to smoochy #pandemic

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pkmn-fangamer · 5 years ago

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Pokémon Solar Light & Lunar Dark Review

Intro:

The game starts in Soltree Town in the players room. The player is sitting in front of his/her TV and is watching a battle between two Pokémon trainers. Your mother comes in and tells you that your best friend, Rodney, is waiting for you downstairs to get your first Pokemon from Prof. Pinewood. You walk to the lab with Rodney and the Professor lets you choose one of three Pokemon. After choosing your starter, Rodney runs out of the lab. The Professor tells you about a young girl named Keira, who is getting the last Pokémon, but it seems that she has forgotten it. After finding Keira in Mossy Town her mother tells you to go back to your house, because your mother has a gift for you. Back in Soltree Town you receive the PokéCom and the Running Shoes from your parents.

From then on, the player will set off on adventures through the Rikoto region. Along the way, the player, Rodney, and Keira will battle eight Gym Leaders, while trying to complete the Pokédex. After managing to obtain all eight Badges, the player will head to the Pokémon League to battle the Elite Four and the Champion.

How to Play:

Download and extract this file to the folder of your choice. If you don’t have a program to unzip files, I recommend Peazip, which is safe and works well. Once extracted, double “Game.exe” to play.

Story:

The story progresses like a main series game’s plot. It’s notably most similar to RSE/ORAS, because there are two evil teams present: Team Solar and Team Lunar. They’re racing to find specific stones to revive and control their respective legendary of interest. Unfortunately, the climax of their role in the story is pretty disappointing to me, but I won’t say any further so not to spoil you. Aside from the villains, you have your usual tree-based professor, a few rivals, and your eight gym leaders. There’s also a mega evolution specialist, who battles in her castle, and is portrayed as unofficial gym leader. I especially liked this detail.

The characters are just okay, and dialogue can be a little jumbled at time. I like that you have three rivals rather than one, but they’re not very well fleshed out. Each has a gimmick, but not much personality past that. The gym leaders were also okay, but not overly memorable. The only honorable mention is Jax of the Elite Four, who I believe should have been the champion of the game.

There are some adult themes present in the story, but I don’t mean this in an explicit sort of way. Rather, the game addresses adult issues you’d find in the real world. For example, to use the taxi service in Rustbolt City, you need to battle their boss to convince him to pay his workers more, as they’re on strike at the time. You are also asked to steal for a robber at one point during a quest, which is pretty neat.

Overall, the plot and characters weren’t too impressive, but they weren’t terrible, either. There was a good foundation for both that was lost along the way, it seems. However, the story and characters are still serviceable and fulfill their overarching role.

Score: 7/10

Pokemon:

In this game, there are Fakemon instead of Pokemon, and this can be seen as either good or a bad. While the sprite work for the Fakemon grew on me, some are heavily based on already existing Pokemon. Also, some Pokemon don’t have the highest design quality. Lastly, many of the better Fakemon don’t evolve until they’re pretty high leveled, anywhere from the high 30s to the low 50s, kind of like in Gen 5. This can be seen either as a good or a bad thing, I suppose.

Luckily, there’s a lot of good things about the Fakemon too. First is the sheer amount of them: there are 358 Fakemon to choose from, which is more original Pokemon than have ever been put into a new game at once. This gives you a huge selection to choose from, so no two people will ever have the same team. The downside of this is it’s hard to keep track of them all. However, there are some great ones to choose from, whose movepools and abilities have been handpicked with care.

The original moves made for this game are also a nice touch. One that stood out to me is Thunder Strike, which is a nice middling electric move that’s more powerful than Thunder Shock, but less powerful than Thunderbolt.

I also absolutely love that your first party Pokemon walks with you. This is a feature that really should be brought back in main series games, and the fact that they took the time to draw all 358 original Fakemon (and each shiny form!) as walking companions is very impressive.

Score: 8/10

Gameplay:

In terms of difficulty, this game is very middling. It’s not too easy or hard. If you battle all the trainers and a good portion of wild Pokemon during your journey, gym leaders won’t be overly difficult. However, grinding in this game can be difficult without the presence of the speed button, so keep this in mind when you use a repel or skipping trainer battles.

One of my favorite attributes in a fan game is a lack of HMs, and I was pleasantly surprised that this game replaced HMs with key items. This opens up a fifth slot in your party; no HM slaves needed!

The gameplay in SLLD (Solar Light & Lunar Dark) is brought to life through its attention to detail in many areas. I’d say you can spend up to two hours in almost every town and its surrounding area, just doing quests, finding hidden items, and talking to NPCs without getting bored. There are so many places to explore, each with a completely different set of Pokemon.

My biggest grip in this area is the length of space between towns. The worst example of this is the journey between Waytide City and Coralite Town. In the space between them, there is Route 9, then Goopool Swamp, then Route 10A, then Rainbow Reef, then Route 10B, then finally Coralite Town. There is one single player to heal your Pokemon in this entire stretch, and if you don’t bring a ton of healing items and repels, there’s no way you’ll make it the whole way continuously. There’s also a ton of trainers on every route, too many in my opinion, and if you don’t battle them all, you’re destined to be underleveled for gym battles.

Score: 8.5/10

Art/Music:

The overworld art is well done, mostly in Gen 5 style. I haven’t seen art like this in another fan game yet, so props for that.

Original music can be found in about 80% of the game, and is generally well-composed. I rarely found myself listening to other music while playing the game. It’s very electronic, and comparable to Gen 5, but I actually like this soundtrack better than the Unova one. This brought me to wonder: why is such a common track, the wild battle music, from Sinnoh when almost all other music is original? This also goes for the Pokemon Center and a few other themes. My best guess is that composing those tracks would have taken a lot of time.

In terms of character art, most of it is solid. However, the female player character is obviously heavily inspired by Lyra from HGSS. The sprite isn’t bad per say, but it is very obvious. On the other hand, the male player character looks very original.

There are a few visual/sound errors that I would fix. First, the selection highlight isn’t apparent enough. This may seem minor, but this can be the difference between winning a battle or losing if you accidentally switch in the wrong Pokemon. Additionally, both the sound for stat rising and falling is the same- it always sounds like your stat is going up. There are also a couple of Pokemon missing their cries when sent into battle.

Score: 8.5/10

Misc:

The fan content for this game is pretty great. There’s a very active discord channel, and a pretty up-to-date, accurate wiki.

Overall:

One stand-out quality of this game is the sheer amount of content it contains. Before I mentioned the amount of Pokemon created, and this goes for the size of the map as well. There are more towns and areas of interest in this game than any individual region, and as a result you can get in a huge amount of playtime. I ended my run-through with almost 30 hours. However, the downside to inserting a massive amount of content into anything can make the issue of quality control. While the quality of most things in this game is above average, some things did suffer a bit. For example, there are so many routes and areas, it probably was impossible to compose music for all of them. As a result, the Surf and Bike theme are both the cheesy Pokemon Essentials themes.

On the topic of glitches: unfortunately, there are a handful of them. Most aren’t game breaking, but the one that stood out to me is the fishing contest one. When you are warped to the fishing contest, you’re trapped inside the building’s roof instead of in front of the building. As a result, you have to open your menu and quit the contest, automatically putting you in last place. Another is in the Subhail Icecaps towards the end of the game. The game can barely handle surfing in this area, and constantly stalls, almost crashing whenever you surf.

Overall, I would recommend this game to almost any Pokemon lover. I’d especially recommend this one for Unova lovers, as this game is a fresh new adventure quite reminiscent of that region. If you’re looking for a traditional Pokemon game with Fakemon in it, this game should be a winner for you.

Final Score: 8.5/10

#pokemon solar light and lunar dark #pokemon #fakemon #pokemon review #review #slldcommentary #slldreview

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imaginetonyandbucky · 6 years ago

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The Hitman Bodyguard: Chapter 4

Read on Ao3

Bucky had obviously seen Stark Tower before; it was an iconic part of the New York City skyline, as easily recognizable as the Empire State Building. But seeing it while wandering around in its shadow was entirely different from parking in Tony’s private underground garage and taking the interminable elevator ride it took to get to the top, then seeing the city spread out before him like it was his personal back yard.

He allowed himself fifteen seconds to stare before he turned away, trying to seem blasé about it all. “So where do all the others live?” Bucky asked casually, strolling around the common room.

“Others? You mean like Steve and the rest?”

“Yeah.” Specifically Steve, Bucky thought. “Do they stay here?”

“Sometimes,” Tony said with a distracted, one shoulder shrug. “Bruce was here for a while and Thor stays here when he’s…on the planet. Steve has his own place in DC and God only knows about Clint and Natasha.”

Bucky’s shoulders eased when Tony said DC. “Why are you moving out of the tower? It’s so…you,” he said, strolling back to poke Tony in the side. “Stylish. Flashy. Practically screaming, ‘hey, I’m over here, try to kill me.’”

Tony stuck his tongue out. “Too many possible collateral damage and civilian casualties.”

“Ah.” Couldn’t really argue with that. “When do they break ground for the new place?”

“Tomorrow.” Tony had played a huge part in designing the new Avengers headquarters, so he planned to be in New York for the duration of the construction. For his part, Bucky wasn’t super thrilled about being back in the city – too many memories and almost-memories – but he wasn’t prepared to break his contract and leave Tony because of it, especially if Steve stayed down in DC. The tower was pretty fucking cool though. Being this high above the streets was a rush.

“Hey, Tony,” he said, turning away from the view. “What’s for-”

Tony held up a finger, phone in his ear. “Yeah, two large pepperoni for delivery, please.” He put his hand over the speaker and said, “We’re having pizza and we’re going to watch Zombieland.”

“Again?” Bucky made a face.

“No complaining,” Tony said. “We made a deal. Plus, we are going to rewatch it until you realize the gift that Woody Harrelson is.”

The next evening, Bucky was flipping through the apparently unending channels on the TV when he realized he’d seen the same video playing on three different news stations. So he paused, reading the headlines, and then rewound the footage.

“Tony,” he called out, stomach sinking.

“What’s up?” Tony answered from the kitchen.

\“You said Ste- Captain America works with SHIELD in DC, right?” Bucky said almost absently as he kept playing and rewinding the footage of the attack in DC, watching as a black SUV, apparently the SHIELD Director’s SUV, flipped over in a cloud of smoke and flames.

“Yeah, why?” He heard Tony’s footsteps as he came into the living room, unable to drag his eyes away from the television.

He paused the TV on the one blurry shot of the perpetrator that the camera managed to catch. It was a man, all in black, with goggles and a mask on. “You’ve gotta go to DC,” Bucky said urgently. “Right now. He is in danger.”

Tony went still, eyes going between the TV and Bucky, clearly trying to make the connection. “What? Why?”

Bucky pressed play and let Tony watch the clip he’d been watching. “Holy shit,” Tony said, eyes widening. “Nick. Did they say anything about-”

“Trust me,” he said. “Go. Right now, before it gets worse.”

“Yeah, ok. I’m going.” Tony headed for the stairs down to his lab. “Are you coming?” He called out over his shoulder. “You could take one of the cars-”

Bucky’s mouth twisted. “I can’t,” he said, turning and pacing away from the television. As much as he wanted, needed, to be there to watch Tony’s back, this was Hydra. And Steve. “Not this time. I…” Bucky trailed off to a stop. What could he say? How could he explain? Hey, Tony, I'm kinda but not really the person you think I am.

“It’s ok,” Tony was already saying soothingly. He came back to squeeze Bucky’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t even have asked. This isn’t your job. I’m going to go suit up and call Steve.”

Bucky nodded jerkily. “Be careful.” Despite Tony’s words, he still felt lower than dirt as he watched the Iron Man suit blazing south. He rewatched the clip again, eyes lingering on the bright blond hair on the man in black, but in his mind he was in a cold, harshly-lit bunker, watching behind iron bars as this man and the other Winter Soldiers killed everyone they could reach.

(More after the break!)

For the next two days, Bucky was sick with worry, checking in with JARVIS every hour on the hour. After the first six requests about Tony, JARVIS set up a running feed of Tony’s vitals that Bucky could see on any screen in the tower, though he rarely went much farther than his bedroom and the kitchen. He wavered between obsessively watching the news and trying to distract himself with stupid movies, but not much worked. Memories were coming fast and hard, making his hands shake and giving fresh terrors to his dreams. At one point, Bucky woke up panicking from a nightmare that the attack in DC was a decoy and that Bucky was the true target, and for the next three hours he obsessively roamed the tower, convinced that Hydra was coming. When he tried to eat, the sudden mental image of Steve in the chair, or Tony, made him throw up until there was only bile left, burning the back of his throat.

He would have liked to say that he almost changed his mind about going to DC, but the truth was, fear of both seeing Steve and memories of Hydra made it hard to even stay in New York. Suddenly the city felt too small, and in the middle of the night LA didn’t seem far enough away; hell, suddenly even putting an ocean between himself and DC didn’t seem good enough. But he stayed, hating himself a little more with every passing hour for being such a coward.

Then, on the third day, Tony called.

“Bucky,” was all Tony had to say, and Bucky’s stomach hit the floor. He closed his eyes and pressed his forehead against the cool wall, trying not to throw up again. “I hate to ask but…we need your help.” When Bucky didn’t respond immediately, Tony hurried on. “There are more of these freakish Hydra super soldiers than we thought there would be and…” Bucky’s hand was tight on the phone as he heard Tony’s long exhale. “I know this isn’t want you’re getting paid to do-”

“It’s not about the money,” Bucky said harshly. He took a ragged breath and ran his hand over his mouth. Over the past two days, the thought had occurred to him that there was a third choice, besides running from his past or facing Steve and having all of his secrets bared to the ugly light of day. Unfortunately, it was one that he was almost as afraid of as the others. He exhaled long and low, clenching his flesh hand into a fist to make it stop shaking. “Okay. I’ll help.” His voice was rough, so he cleared his throat. “Just…tell me where to meet you.”

When he got off the phone, he walked reluctantly to the one bag he always carried with him but never unpacked; buried at the bottom of a closet, out of sight but rarely far from his mind. He pulled it out and unzipped it, dread making his limbs heavy.

At the bottom of the bag, under layers of stiff, reinforced tactical pants and bullet-proof vests, was a mask and ballistic goggles.

***

Hours later, he found Tony gathered with others at the edge of the Potomac, looking over the water at SHIELD headquarters. He approached silently, studying them; Tony was in a suit, helmet retracted, and Steve was easily recognizable at his side. Beside Steve, looking tiny next to him in his tactical suit, was a redhead whose profile stirred uneasy memories. The final man, dark-skinned with short hair and a strange bulky backpack, he didn’t know at all.

He came up next to Tony; JARVIS must have warned him of his approach because he didn’t look surprised. “You made it,” Tony said, sounding relieved. Bucky gave a curt nod as Tony’s eyes traveled over him, and Bucky knew what he saw: the dark ballistic goggles and mask obscured his features, and he was in black from head to toe, metal arm gleaming. Wearing this again, the mask and the gear, felt right, felt like coming home, and made Bucky want to rip every piece of it off and shower until his skin bled.

“Who is this?” Steve asked warily as everyone turned to look at him. Bucky refused to look at him, afraid he’d lose his fragile self-control. He kept his eyes on Tony, trying to remind himself why he was here when he’d rather be anywhere else.

“This is-” Bucky made a sharp warning gesture. “A free agent,” Tony finished. “He’s going to help us out with this Hydra problem, and then he’ll be going on his way.”

“I gotta say, this guy looks a lot like the guys we’re fighting,” the black guy said, eyeing Bucky’s mask and goggles. Bucky gave him points for perception. “Who is he again?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said. “I’m vouching for him.”

Steve looked like he wanted to argue, but after a moment he shook his head and visibly decided not to. “If you say so, Tony. What do we call him?”

“Rambo will be fine,” Tony said when Bucky didn’t volunteer anything. He was too busy studying the red-head, who was studying him in turn, something sharp and suspicious in her brown eyes.

“Alright, everyone,” Steve said. “Sam, you’re with me. Tony, guess you’ve got Rambo here. Natasha-”

“On it,” she said, giving Steve a salute and finally looking away from Bucky. “See you on the flip side, boys,” she said over her shoulder as she sauntered away.

The new guy, Sam, apparently, pushed a button on his shoulder and mechanical wings unfolded from his backpack, whirring as an engine in the center came to life. He took Steve’s hand and then they were skimming across the river to the Triskelion, coming in low to avoid the building’s anti-aircraft defenses.

“They’re going to try to keep the helicarriers from launching,” Tony explained, shading his face from the sun as he watched them go. “But if they fail, that’s where we come in.”

Bucky nodded curtly, wishing that he could just punch something already. His skin was crawling in this gear; when he’d escaped from Hydra, he swore to himself that he’d never wear it again. He only kept it to remind himself how far he’d come, but here he was, feeling like he was walking to his own execution. He itched to pace but he knew if he started walking he may very well start walking back to LA, so he forced himself to stay still.

“Are you ok?”

He turned his head to see Tony watching him with concern. He wanted to say I’m fine, but he didn’t think he could force himself to tell a lie that big. There was a knot in his chest, fear and dread and panic, so big that he couldn’t speak around it, so he just shrugged. Even though they were just standing here, he felt like everything was balanced on a knife’s edge and the tension made him want to scream.

“Seriously, Bucky, are you ok?” Tony had his hands on Bucky’s shoulders now, the armor making them heavy.

“I just want to finish this,” Bucky managed to say. “Let's get it over with.”

#winteriron #tony x bucky #tony stark #bucky barnes #bodyguard au #bodyguard bucky #prompts #dracusfyre

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aion-rsa · 3 years ago

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The Nevers Part 1 Finale Is The Most Surprising Hour of TV in a Long Time

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This article contains major spoilers for The Nevers episode 6.

So that was something, huh? To those who have not yet seen The Nevers episode 6 “True” yet, the above headline may seem fairly overwrought. Really? The most surprising? Wasn’t the Invincible finale just like two weeks ago? To those who have seen the episode in question, however, that designation probably rings true.

How else are we supposed to describe an hour that begins, not in 19th century Victorian era London like the show’s first five episodes, but rather in a far flung future in which 5 billion people are dead and Earth’s atmosphere is toxic? There may have been more surprising twists in TV’s recent past, but it’s hard to recall a recent episode that upends a show’s central premise so extremely, so relatively late into its run. And thanks to the coronavirus pandemic interrupting the show’s production, The Nevers won’t even be able to continue to pursue this rich dramatic vein until “Part 2” of the show’s first season arrives at a still-undetermined later date.

As conceived by prolific TV creator Joss Whedon (before he left the project perhaps in part for also being a prolific jerk), The Nevers first presented itself as a fairly standard superhero tale. It is set in the Victorian era and features a pretty direct allegory: as culture goes through distinct changes, so too do many Victorian women, gaining supernatural powers and banding together as the “Touched.”

That was all fine and dandy but this sixth installment, written by Jane Espenson, really levels up the show’s potential in a profound way. The Nevers isn’t just a show about change, it’s a show about failure to change. Humanity’s petty squabbles over millennia eventually lead to a world in which our only hope of survival is through inter-dimensional travelers known as the Galanthi. But ever the difficult species, many humans turn up their noses at the notion of divine intervention. Now humanity’s last chance lies in the distant past, surrounded by smog, damp umbrellas, and corsets.

This is, to say the least, a lot to unpack. Thankfully, we’ve gone ahead and done all the unpacking for you. What follows are some major questions raised by “True” along with our answers, some of which have been supplemented by the show’s star, Laura Donnelly. You can find that entire interview over here.

For now, however, let’s get started with the obvious…

Wait…what? What was that?

I know, right?

No, seriously. Like…what just happened? Give me a TL;DR

The Nevers’ sixth episode answers a lot of questions and raises even more. We will go in-depth on all of those questions in a moment, but to break it down into only a couple of paragraphs:

It turns out that The Nevers takes place in a (hopefully) distant apocalyptic future in which the Earth is ravaged and the majority of the human population has perished. Suddenly a dinosaur-like alien species known as The Galanthi appear from portals and deposit spores that “improve” some people, giving them a stronger sense of selflessness and all around good vibes. The Galanthi also assist scientists in big projects like water purification and renewable energy. In response to the Galanthi’s arrival, the remnants of humanity split off into two factions: the Planetary Defense Council (PDC), which believes the Galanthi are helping; and Free Life, which are skeptical of them.

As this episode picks up, a woman known by only her military rank “Stripe” is involved with a PDC team to make contact with the last Galanthi. Unbeknownst to Stripe and the team, the Galanthi and his scientist friends have hatched a plot to go back to the late 19th century to give humanity a fresh start and a chance to avoid their catastrophic future. After committing suicide, Stripe finds herself in the body of Victorian England breadmaker Amalia True, who had just made her own suicide attempt (possibly succeeding as well). Cue: episodes one through five of The Nevers.

If that brief description is still a bit too complicated, Donnelly provided Den of Geek with an even more economical run down:

“I think the important information is crystal clear, which is essentially: the Galanthi is an alien race that is here to help humanity from itself, and that Stripe is Amalia.”

Now onto the other lingering questions.

When does The Nevers take place and what happened to Earth?

The show takes place in an unspecified future…at least until Stripe is sent back in time to inhabit Amalia True’s body in the Victorian era. As for what happened to Earth, the simplest answer is probably “humans.” It would appear that all of our centuries of selfish nonsense has rendered the third rock from the Sun a shell of its former self. The air is unbreathable and unable to accommodate pretty much any life. Stripe shocks her crew by “possuming” a.k.a. taking her oxygen-rich helmet off while in battle. Stripe is also later stunned to see actual organic fruit in the lab.

What are the Galanthi?

The Galanthi are intergalactic and possibly inter-dimensional helpers. No one knows why they first emerged from their portals to assist humanity on Earth but it is fairly clear that they’re here to help…even if Free Life would beg to differ. Their appearance seems to be that of classic scaly monsters. The only time we get to see one is in a video that the scientists recorded. That Galanthi is quadrupedal and about three times the size of a human being. It has Cthulhu-like tentacles on its face. The scientist cheerfully notes that he wasn’t expecting the beast to be this playful, as it nudges him with its head like a cat.

According to Stripe and Knitter, at one point there were around 20 Galanthi but Free Life has been bombing their facilities. As far as anyone knows there is only one Galanthi left on Earth and it’s the one inhabiting this facility. This poor Galanthi is traumatized, however, as Free Life tortured all of its scientist buddies to take away its hope. Now it spends its days in a windowed room in the ceiling, mourning its loss.

What are Free Life and the Planetary Defense Council (PDC)?

The Planetary Defense Council (PDC) is the organization that believes in the mission of the Galanthi. Stripe’s team is made up of PDC personnel and they’re tracking a spatial anomaly to find and defend a Galanthi. Free Life, on the other hand, does whatever it can to make the Galanthi go away. Free Life also doesn’t believe in some of the customs that the PDC has adopted, like concealing one’s own name as sacred. The Free Life representative in this episode’s Chapter One is delighted to tell people his name.

It’s unknown how many people are involved in each faction, but it would seem that Free Life has the upper hand. There is potentially only one Galanthi left. As Stripe eventually explains to her new friend Knitter (Ellora Torchia), the side that banks on hope rather than fear is at an inherent disadvantage. A sizable percentage of the PDC aren’t even true believers in the Galanthi. They are scared of them but believe they are a necessary evil for humanity’s survival. We see how tenuous even the “believers’” belief in the Galanthi is when one of the PDC team betrays his crew.

What was with those Victorian artifacts in the lab?

Somewhat surprisingly (to me at least), this one has an answer already! Thanks to Donnelly, we now know that the scientists were plotting with the Galanthi to send humanity back to one specific timeframe to make things better. The Victorian artifacts were a part of that research. Donnelly explains:

“You realize that the reason that they had an exit portal was because they had a plan for that, that they weren’t coming back. Obviously you see that with the Victorian artifacts in the room. In fact, this plan was brought together with the scientists. They were working on that together.”

The Galanthi was going to exit through its portal, but it wasn’t abandoning humanity – just getting primed to enter into the next stage of its plan in Victorian England.

Who is Stripe?

Stripe is our hero. Played in the first chapter by Claudia Black, Stripe is so called because names are sacred and cannot be revealed. Instead she goes by her military rank.

“At one point they say something about declaring colors and they kind of all go through what the different names are for the different ranks. She’s a Stripe, which is not very high up,” Donnelly says.

As evidenced by her morphine addiction and cynical attitude, Stripe is not necessarily the consummate soldier.

“She’s been kept to a certain level,” Donnelly adds. “And I think that’s down to the fact that she has very strong PTSD and there’s just a lot about her personality that has kind of kept her slightly higher than a foot soldier. She’s not in any level of authority.”

All we know for sure about Stripe is that she hails from southwest Canada (which is fitting, given that the show films in Vancouver) and that her real name is Zephyr Alexis Lavine. There is surely more backstory to come eventually and we get to see glimpses of her military past when she interacts with the Galanthi at episode’s end.

The person that we know as Amalia True this entire time has been Stripe inhabiting her body.

Did Stripe Commit Suicide?

Perhaps this was fairly clear but in case you had the same confusion this writer did upon first watch let’s make it clearer. Yes, Stripe did commit suicide. Stripe, Knitter, and the rest of the team truly believed that the last Galanthi was exiting the world for good via its portal. Stripe was already a cynic, but she couldn’t handle taking Knitter’s last bit of hope away from her before she was killed.

As such, Stripe drank a lethal liquid that the PDC seemingly designed for just such a situation and she perished. The last Galanthi wouldn’t let her be dead for long though as it seemingly snatched her soul out of its body and sent it back to Victorian England.

Who Is Amalia True?

Amalia “Molly” True is an actual Victorian lady, but not a Victorian Lady, if that makes sense. Poor Molly (maiden name not given) is a passionate and talented baker. Unfortunately, the only role for her in this society is that of a wife. Even more unfortunately, the man she is pressured to marry, Thomas True, is a world-class asshole.

Thomas belittles Molly’s baking talents and even cruelly makes fun of her two miscarriages. Molly reaches her breaking point when she is unable to go to the baby shower of her one-time preferred suitor because “barren” women are bad luck. So she simply drops off some pastries and then hurls herself into the Thames.

How HBO’s The Nevers Explores a Very Different Vision of Victorian Girl Power

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At that same moment, Stripe’s soul is guided by the Galanthi into Amalia’s body. Perhaps the creature’s reasoning was “if this woman wasn’t using her corporeal form then someone should.” It’s also not clear just how much of “Molly” remains in Amalia’s body. For now, it appears to be all Stripe/Zephyr. When Amalia confronts the Galanthi at the end of the episode, the creature does bring up some of the real Amalia’s memories.

What is a Spore?

A spore is essentially the future jargon term for the effect that the Galanthi have on a small percentage of the population. Stripe calls Knitter a “spore” but she points out that the correct term is “empathetically enhanced.” Empathetic enhancement basically seems to mean that the Galanthi make some people just flat out better.

Shortly after Stripe arrives in the 19th century asylum as Amalia True, she asks Dr. Cousens if anybody has been “better,” “smarter”, or “more compassionate” lately. They have not, of course, but the Galanthi’s spores have opted for a new strategy this time around.

Instead of merely making certain human beings “better” in an amorphous sense, the Galanthi’s spore has instilled in them specific powers.

“The spores don’t affect everyone they hit. I’ve never known why. But they don’t normally cause random powers,” Amalia says.

To what end have the spores given everyone random powers? Stripe does not know yet and nor do we.

What Does The Last Galanthi Want?

At this point, we now all understand that the last Galanthi on Earth (we think) sent Stripe back to Victorian England in a desperate gambit to save humanity. Stripe i.e. Amalia has intuited that the Galanthi wants her to gather together all of the “Touched.” To what end though?

Well, that’s what Amalia was hoping to glean from her meeting with the Galanthi, still suspended above her in a cave, at episode’s end.

“I left my heart to come talk to you. Talk to me!” Amalia yells at the ceiling.

The Galanthi responds with only a deep growl and then Amalia is knocked back by an unseen energy and begins to experience memories from both Stripe’s and Amalia’s lives. Tucked amid those memories are some glimpses of the future, including Lord Massey firing a rifle Amalia’s way. The vision ends with a young woman we’ve not seen before saying: “Oh Amalia. This is a long time from that little cave. This I will need you to forget.”

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It’s unclear what any of this means but Amalia does tell Penance later on that she did figure something out from the encounter, we just don’t know what yet. Perhaps it’s not for us to know right now anyway. The Galanthi may as well be God and as Molly True once said “God makes his plans so…here we are.”

The Nevers season 1 part 2 is awaiting a release date at HBO.

The post The Nevers Part 1 Finale Is The Most Surprising Hour of TV in a Long Time appeared first on Den of Geek.

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hannahswanviscom · 5 years ago

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A facebook account of infertility

https://www.herfamily.ie/pregnancy/couples-heartbreaking-infertility-story-made-us-cry-243738

“Do you have a minute? I’ve got kind of a long story.

Leah and I have been trying to get pregnant for over 3 years. I’m not sure when, exactly, we stopped the birth control. Like all our plans, we didn’t start with a plan, but instead decided that if we got pregnant, that would be great.

And then we didn’t get pregnant.

I mean, look, when you’re in your twenties, it feels like you can’t look at someone else without getting pregnant. We’ve all heard about someone who got pregnant through 2 condoms, spermicidal lubricant, and an IUD. Right? But we didn’t get pregnant. No big deal.

We’re in our 30s. Things are probably a little bit dusty, and a little bit rusty. So, three years ago, we started using apps and calendars to track this and that. Ovulation test sticks. Old wives’ tales of positions and timing. We got some late periods. And some periods that never came!

But we didn’t get pregnant.”

So, off to the doctor we went. His and hers appointments for collections of blood and semen and measuring parts and such. Medical science being what it is, we got the answer to all our problems: ‘You’re fine, and there shouldn’t be a problem.’

Do doctors ever tell anybody, ‘This is what is wrong, and this is how to fix it,’ and then give them pills, and they’re fine? This is not my experience.

We didn’t get pregnant.

So then came the hormones for Leah. Along with those hormones came the realization that little-to-none of this would be covered by insurance, and that the coverage rate would go down as we went deeper into the process. See, insurance companies look at getting pregnant a lot like getting sick. Why, they can’t imagine, would you try to get sick? Well, f**k you, insurance companies. That’s why.

But we didn’t get pregnant.

So maybe we’re bad at timing, or something, or god knows. Usually that’s fine, but we are in our late 30s, and clocks are ticking. The doctor told us that certain hormone levels were low, lower than they should have been, and that meant our egg supply was dwindling.”

Let me tell you something. There is nothing you can tell a woman that will make her feel more young, beautiful and vibrant than, ‘You have a dwindling egg supply, and it is time to pick up the pace.’ You should try it. Maybe at a bar.

And that was when we began IUI, intrauterine insemination. IUI is – colloquially – the turkey baster method. When they told us about it, I tried to really hear what the doctor was saying, but all I could hear echoing around the room, off of the oyster-y pearlescent floors and the alien-vagina wallpaper, was ‘dwindling.’

For Leah, we eventually figured out, this meant a regimen of hormone boosters to facilitate egg production. Are you aware of what happens to people when their hormones go out of the norm? They are not happy. Unless they are happy, in which case, they are very happy. There is no mild. There is no average day. Her job was to feel like her brain and soul were on fire.

My job was to try and not say anything dumb, because she also needed to be calm. I tried to avoid triggering phrases like ‘Hey,’ or ‘Good morning,’ or ‘I love you,’ but I kept f**king up, and opening my mouth, or allowing Leah to see TV programs, or commercials, to read books, and interact with the world in any way.”

“The best was when someone would ask her when we were going to have kids. That was just the best.

Then, after one or two ultrasounds to make sure eggs were there, and in their right places on their little follicles, I would give my needle-phobic wife a shot in her thigh to set ovulation in process. She says she’s not so much afraid of needles as she is afraid of being stuck by me with a needle, but same difference, right?

Over time, I developed a method where she would look away, close her eyes and cry, while crushing all the bones in my left hand, and I would count to three, and inject her with my right. I wouldn’t inject her on three. I tried to pick a random time. She usually didn’t even feel it.

After all that romance, you would think that abstaining from sex for a few days would be hard, but you would be wrong. You might also think we should be having massive amounts of sex, but it turns out that you have to let your seminal stash build up for a few days before collection.”

“Over the last couple years, I became pretty professional about my sperm deposits. My first one was a few paragraphs up, for testing. Man, is it ever weird. You can do it at home if you want, but then you are under a clock to get your sample to the lab on time. I don’t need that kind of stress.

I don’t talk about it much, but I like to think I’m pretty good at taking care of business in the art of sperm production, but I had never entered a room designed specifically for masturbation, while people waited outside, hoping my masturbation went okay. Perhaps that is what Eddie Murphy’s life was like in Coming to America, but I was less familiar with it.

The room was like a combination of a hotel room and an office. It had a big picture of The Ohio State University football stadium, filled with fans, on the wall over a small vinyl sofa. There was a neatly folded sheet, fresh and crisp, hanging on the far armrest. A clock radio on the side table, tuned to local political talk radio, sputtering away beneath a low-lit lamp, was paired with a little wooden cube that had one tiny drawer, specifically made for storing your collection cup.

Under the table were four or five magazines that I didn’t really want to touch. Usually two Playboys, a Penthouse, and a Swimsuit Issue. Across from the couch was a TV/DVD combo with a DVD preloaded. I didn’t want to touch the remote either, really. It sat on a wicker chest.

Wicker struck me as the worst possible material for a room designed for male masturbation. Everybody’s aiming for the cup, I know, but I also know there have been enough accidents in that office that it required a laminated sign about what to do in case of an accident.”

“The first step, in case of an accident, is to not try to hide it by scraping your mess into the cup. Big no-no. This makes your sample corrupt, which may mean that your partner could end up being impregnated by carpet fibers if I understand correctly, but it is also unsanitary.

The second step is to tell the front desk staff that you had an accident, which seems horrific. The people who work at the lab are people who, by my calculations, deal with upwards of 80 men per day who have just masturbated, or are about to, and their sperm. Sure. They are professional.

But, still, everyone is a little bit tittery, a little bit anxious. We all know that this is all very silly, and that I just touched my penis, and you are someone’s grandmother, and that even though you have a pin in the shape of a little sperm fella to help break the tension, we all – if we really had the choice – would probably prefer to burst into flames than discuss any part of this, let alone the fact that someone missed. Whoops!

The DVD would change over time, but still be of the same variety. Usually some kind of early 90s Eurotrash boat fantasies, or oily faux-lesbian scissorhands scenes, starring fingernails that made me very nervous. I would check every time I went in, and it was always awful. Everybody’s got their thing, I guess. My thing is that I am thankful for the Internet.

Oh. And you are supposed to go in dry if you can help it. Lubrication, as it turns out, can mess with the quality of the semen, which seems like a pretty big jerk move on the part of lubrication.

But, yeah, I’ve got my routine down.

When your sample has been washed and spun, or whatever it is they do with it, they put it in a paper bag that you carry over to the doctor’s office for the procedure. We long-timers can always tell the new couples. Their discomfort and optimism is cute. They smile and look around on their walk, hoping no one notices the bag they have pinched in their fingertips.

Me, I carry my paper bag like a sack lunch. The same turkey sandwich I’ve had every day for years. With hope, yes, but the skepticism of routine. The IUI itself is pretty quick, and from what I understand, painless, if not the normal amount of demeaning of going to an OB/GYN. You get one more ultrasound to make sure everything is in place, and then they pour the gravy all over the giblets.

Sorry. I know. I’m hung up on turkey metaphors.

And then we wait.”

“You’re warned against taking pregnancy tests because they measure hormone levels, and after taking all sorts of weird shit all month, you can trigger a false positive. So you wait. And there will be spotting. Is it spotting, or is her period starting? You don’t know. So you wait. And you wait. And you wait.

And sometimes her period comes, and you start over. Step one. And sometimes it doesn’t come. But the second line doesn’t appear, or the plus, or the whatever these tests do. So you wait. And it’s negative, but you hope, and you see your friends getting pregnant, and you get a little sad. But you get mad at yourself because you want to feel happy for other people, and that’s not fair to them. And then the 17-year-old across the street gets pregnant, and you get a little sadder. And your cousins get pregnant, and you get a little sadder.

And you see people scream at their kids, and beat them in Kroger, and you just want to die because you would give anything to have a child throwing a tantrum in the cereal aisle.

You don’t want to hate people. You don’t. I think babies are beautiful. I think kids are awesome, but you can’t help the jealousy. The envy. The resentment. It really creeps up on you. And you search for positive things. And you talk on end about your capital-O Options.”

“And then you see people on the internet post screeds about how dare anyone assume that they would want to have kids because not having kids is the best – which is fine, have at it or don’t have at it, I really don’t care – but we want to be procreating, and we want what you could have, but are choosing not to use.

And we want to tell you, but people don’t talk about it. Because you don’t want to talk about it.

Because you spend all day thinking about it, managing it. Trying not to cry. Trying to not turn into HI and Ed from Raising Arizona, stealing babies in the night.

And the doctors start talking about Next Steps, and the Next Steps are very expensive, so you try it one more time. And then, while you’re in Kansas on a road trip with a friend, your wife does the IUI with a frozen deposit you left behind.

And you get pregnant.”

“You go in for a blood test, two weeks later, and they tell you that you’re pregnant. And you cry. Big fat tears of relief. And then you freak out because, to be honest, you talked yourself out of real hope months and months ago, but now you have to get ready for a baby.

Some weeks later, you go in for an ultrasound, and there it is. I mean, yeah, it’s a tadpole with a giant head. There’s its brain, and there’s its heart fluttering away, and it’s so real.

And you relax.”

“We’re in our late thirties, which means that the chances are higher than average that a pregnancy won’t be viable, or there will be a chromosomal abnormality, or something along those lines. We spent a lot of time tiptoeing around that idea, but we talked about it. And about not getting too excited. You know, the higher you let your hopes up, the further they have to fall. But they told us to relax. Everything looked great and we were on track, so when we went in for one final scan before being released to our obstetrician a couple weeks later, we were all smiles and jokes.

‘I’m so sorry. I can’t find the heartbeat.’ …

And then you’re not pregnant.”

“I’ve felt time stop before. Car accidents, falling off a fence, a mountain bike jump gone wrong. I have not felt the vertigo of infinity like when we were told our baby was dead. I’m logical. I understand science and biology. I know it was a fetus, not a baby. But it was my baby. In my head, in my heart, I could already imagine being old as it grew into an adult and had its own children, and – woosh – it was all gone.

As I write this, the due date is a little over a week away, like a car accident on the road ahead that you’re trying not to look at, that you have to drive by. The world isn’t going to stop. We all get up and go to work. Because it happens. People lose babies all the time.

Miscarriage.

But no one talks about it. No one gets on Facebook and tells their friends. It’s specifically why you wait to tell anyone.

But then you have no one to tell. When a family member dies, you can share your grief. With a miscarriage, you would have to tell people that someone who will never be born, who they had never heard of and will never meet, but who meant the world to you, is gone. And you don’t have the strength to get into it. You tell your parents, maybe a close friend, maybe your boss. I was so stunned when it happened that I texted my boss that I wouldn’t be back that day, but that I’d be back the next, which really cracks me up now. I didn’t even get how I was about to be affected.

Leah was scheduled for a D&C, dilation and curettage, under general anesthesia at Christ Hospital right away, so she wouldn’t have to go through the trauma of slowly passing the fetal tissue over the course of a week. It wasn’t until they took her back that I let myself break down. Alone with my worst thoughts and the sour coffee of the waiting room for several hours. God, I have no idea how long. One more forever.

The people at the hospital were excellent. We got a lot of information about support groups that we never went to, but we should have. We just wanted to hide. I’m thankful for our families and our friends, who came to sit with us. Who brought Lea the things she needed, and let me get out of the house to walk around the neighborhood. I must have looked like a zombie.”

“It’s very difficult to think about, even now. I don’t think I’m doing a good job of describing it. I don’t want to dwell on it. I don’t want to think about it. I don’t think it was until around the New Year that I went a day without crying about it.

But, you know, you pass the car accident and it’s in the rear view, getting further away, and sometimes you don’t even see it anymore. Maybe you’ve told yourself enough times that “at least we know we can get pregnant” and “this just means that something was wrong and it’s a good thing.” Maybe you even believe it.

Just to let you know how strong Leah is, she still made the Dean’s List that semester, and she was carrying 18 credit hours. I dropped out of college for the dumbest reasons in my time – once because I got mugged – but she persevered. Like Britney, bitch.

We started back at the fertility process too soon, in a dumb burst of optimism and courage, and the desire to move forward. The hormone treatments were too much for Leah. And the lack of success was too much for the both of us. So we stopped. Our doctor told me, privately, that we need to take care of ourselves, but that, if we want to have a baby, we either need to move forward now, or start discussing Next Steps.

Remember: Dwindling.”

“We tried a couple more times, one of which felt good – we thought we had it – and were told that if this one doesn’t take, that we would need to increase hormone treatments substantially and begin planning for options outside of IUI. In Vitro, surrogacy, or something else.

The doctor also told us, during one IUI, that while Donald Trump scares him, his wife loves Trump because of the Mexican wall thing. They are both immigrants. His problem with the wall was that it would be impossible to pay for it. I don’t know. Doctors tell you some crazy shit while they’re inseminating your wife.

Through this process, and through both of our lives, neither of us have ever had a home pregnancy test come out positive. Even when we were pregnant before, it was the doctor who did a test. This last one, Leah couldn’t bear to look at it herself, so I looked at it while she was in the shower, and told her no, that it was negative.

While she stood there, crying, I googled ‘pregnancy test faint line.’ As it turns out, even the faintest f**king line in the whole f**king world means you’re pregnant. So we’re pregnant.

We’re pregnant.”

“Not that we believed it at first, but we are. Three scans later, I’ve even heard the heartbeat, like a hummingbird, and it’s beautiful.

As I write this, tomorrow is our first obstetrician appointment, and we’re so nervous. So, so nervous. I wouldn’t dare to post this until we’re in the clear enough, and ready to tell people. Almost no one knows right now. We’re worried to jinx it, us, we, who don’t believe in jinxes. Mostly, we’re afraid of going back through the pain. To have to retract it, publicly, is too much to think about.

I know plenty of people have gone through more than us. We are comparatively very lucky. Some people have never gotten pregnant. Some people could not go as far as us. Some people have taken many Next Steps beyond where we were. Some have been successful, but many haven’t. I hesitate to share this because I don’t want anyone to read this and feel what we felt, watching others’ dreams come true. Some people have found out, or have guessed, and have been very kind to share their own stories with us, and it has helped tremendously to not feel alone. Many thanks to all of them. I hope that maybe this helps someone else feel less alone.

And I hope that everything goes well, and I can inundate you with pictures, starting in November. …

Everything went well. Arms and legs and moving around. We’re very excited, but I’ll be holding my breath for 26ish weeks. And it’s a girl. Not that gender matters! But we’re going to have a little girl! And I am stoked. We are stoked.

We are pregnant.”

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ramajmedia · 5 years ago

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Fringe: The 10 Weirdest Things Walter Has Ever Said | ScreenRant

The cult sci-fi series Fringe revolves around the fictional Fringe Division of the FBI, which consists of Dr. Walter Bishop, a quirky mad scientist, his son Peter, a jack of all trades and resident deadpan snarker, Olivia Dunham, a no-nonsense Agent with the Bureau with drug-induced superpowers, Astrid Farnsworth, FBI agent and Walter's lab assistant of many names, and Gene the cow.

RELATED: Fringe: The 10 Most Groundbreaking Episodes, Ranked

While each and every character was popular with the fans and got a fair amount of screen time and development, Dr. Walter Bishop is especially fascinating due to, among other things, his many quirks and hilarious lines. Today, we're listing the ten weirdest things Walter has said on Fringe.

10 “HELLO PETER, THIS IS ME, YOUR FATHER, WALTER BISHOP.”

In the Season 1 episode “In Which We Meet Mr. Jones”, Walter requests to speak to his son on the phone. He introduces himself in the most hilarious way as if his own son, whom he’s been living and working with, doesn’t know who he is.

“Hello Peter, this is me, your father, Walter Bishop,” says Walter. The snarky Peter responds with, “Thank you, Walter. I know who you are.” The sarcasm, of course, flies over Walter’s head and he just adds “excellent," before moving on to the matter at hand. Season 1 Walter sure is a treasure.

9 “I THOUGHT YOU'D BE FATTER.”

When Olivia first finds Peter and gets him to come back with her to the United States in order to get his estranged father out of a mental health facility, Peter hadn’t seen his father in years. Their reunion was certainly not a joyous one. Walter was clearly not in the best state of mind to talk to visitors, let alone reconnect with his son.

RELATED: The Best Episodes Of Fringe According To IMDb

Suffice it to say that when he first lays eyes on Peter, Walter’s first words to his son were, “I thought you’d be fatter.” Peter is just as surprised by Walter’s poor choice of words as any of us watching the show.

8 "YOU KNOW... I HAD A FRUIT COCKTAIL ONCE IN ATLANTIC CITY. MIND YOU I'M NOT THE FRUIT COCKTAIL SORTA GUY."

Walter’s obsessions with certain foods are hilarious. Whether it’s root beer, blue cotton candy, fresh milk, blueberry pancakes, licorice, or what have you, Walter always finds a way to randomly insert his food preferences into a conversation. For example, one time he was discussing a case with Broyles and out of the blue remembers a very specific fruit cocktail.

When Broyles thanks Walter for his help on the case, Walter responded with: “You know…I had a fruit cocktail once in Atlantic City. Mind you I’m not the fruit cocktail sorta guy.” Confused, Broyles went to Peter for clarification.

7 “I’M DOSING A CATERPILLAR.”

The Season 1 episode “Bound” opens with Walter and Peter in the lab engaging in standard father-son conversation. Well, what passes for normal in the Bishop family anyway. Peter walks in on Walter conducting one of his odd experiments and asks what he’s doing. Walter casually replies: “I’m dosing a caterpillar,” as if it’s the most normal thing to do.

Peter then comments on how finding father’s giving drugs to bugs has become a normal event in his life. Still, who expected to one day hear the words “I’m dosing a caterpillar?" It sure took us by a surprise and never fails to make us laugh.

6 “EXCELLENT! LET'S MAKE SOME LSD.”

It’s no secret that Walter loves taking home-made medication and encourages others to do so as well. He openly talks about taking LSD with William Bell when they were both younger men, and admits to taking medication that he cooks up in the lab, as well as dropping acid. Many of Walter’s experiments involve LSD, which honestly doesn’t come as a surprise considering everything we’ve already said.

RELATED: 5 Things Fringe Did Better Than The X-Files (& 5 Things X-Files Did Better)

However, it’s still hilarious to hear Walter exclaim (with a bit too much enthusiasm): “Excellent! Let’s make some LSD,” as they prepare to pump Olivia full of drugs and put her in a tank of water — especially since this happens in the very first episode.

5 “I HOPE SHE DOESN'T NOTICE THE $2,000 FOR THE BABOON SEMINAL FLUID I ORDERED. I HOPE I CAN RECALL WHY I ORDERED IT.”

Peter once referred to Walter’s lab as "Bishop’s House of Horror", and he isn’t wrong. What goes on in Walter’s lab often qualifies as nightmare fuel. A whole lot of weird, inexplicable, and gross mixed in with downright frightening and disconcerting is enough to weird out anyone aside from Dr. Walter Bishop.

In the Season 1 episode “The No-Brainer”, Walter manages to surprise even himself when he can’t remember why he made a pricey order. When Peter mentions how Olivia caught him trying to order Celtic tickets on the FBI, Walter says: “I hope she doesn’t notice the $2,000 for the baboon seminal fluid I ordered. I hope I can recall why I ordered it.” We're certain something like baboon seminal fluid won't stand out whatsoever.

4 “DO YOU HAVE ANY COCAINE?”

We can probably agree that randomly asking people if they have any cocaine isn’t the most normal thing to do, no matter the circumstances. In Season 2's “The Same Old Story”, Peter calls Walter to ask his advice when a woman starts going into a cardiac arrest due to overdose of anesthesia.

Whatever we thought Walter’s answer would be, it certainly wasn’t this. Nonchalantly, as if it’s the most mundane question, Walter asks: “Do you have any cocaine?” At this point, we began to understand just how unconventional Walter’s methods can be.

3 "I JUST GOT AN ERECTION. OH, FEAR NOT, IT'S NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR STATE OF UNDRESS. I JUST SIMPLY NEED TO URINATE."

In Season 1's "The Dreamscape", Olivia requests to go back into the sensory deprivation tank to remove John's memories from her consciousness. Of course, this involves taking drugs, including LSD because that’s Walter’s go-to medication, sticking a rod into the back of Olivia’s skull, and placing her in an old tank filled with water.

RELATED: 10 Burning Questions That Fringe Never Answered

When Olivia got undressed, Walter deems it the perfect moment to inform Olivia of his physical state. But to put her mind at ease, he quickly adds: “Oh, fear not, it’s nothing to do with your state of undress. I just simply need to urinate.”

2 "THE ONLY THING BETTER THAN A COW IS A HUMAN! UNLESS YOU NEED MILK. THEN YOU REALLY NEED A COW."

In the very first episode of Fringe, Dr. Walter Bishop requests a cow for his lab. At first, everyone is confused, but then Peter explains how human DNA and cow DNA share many similarities. Of course, Walter isn’t quite satisfied with his son’s explanation and offers some hilarious clarification.

In one of his most memorable moments, Walter utters this little gem: “The only thing better than a cow is a human! Unless you need milk. Then you really need a cow.” It’s one of the earliest Walterisms and an absolute fan favorite.

1 “SHE TRICKED MY SON WITH HER CARNAL MANIPULATION AND HE FELL RIGHT INTO HER VAGENDA.”

In Season 3, the Olivia from Over There, dubbed Fauxlivia, infiltrates the Fringe Division Over Here by taking the place of our Olivia and stealing her life. She even keeps Olivia’s newly-developed romance with Peter going, which naturally causes a lot of turmoil. But Fauxlivia also gets to Walter, who just can’t forgive her deception.

In one of his most unforgettable moments, Walter, visibly upset, delivers this iconic one-liner: “She tricked my son with her carnal manipulation and he fell right into her vagenda.”

NEXT: Fringe: Where Are They Now?

source https://screenrant.com/fringe-tv-show-weirdest-walter-quotes/

#screenrant

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leeviathans · 7 years ago

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I ganked an OC ask list so here’s the whole thing for Max.

1. What’s their full name? Why was that chosen? Does it mean anything? Maxwell. It was chosen becauseee that’s what his dad named him? Idk. It doesn’t have any significant meaning to it. 2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them? Eeeeeehhhhhhh 3. Did they have a good childhood? What are fond memories they have of it? What’s a bad memory? His childhood was pretty ok, save for his stepmother being physically and verbally (mostly physically) abusive. But he learned how to avoid her for the most part and otherwise his childhood was very uneventful. He spent a lot of time hanging around his dad’s lab (aka the basement) as a kid. 4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents? Only knew his dad, his mom is very dead. He was very very close to his dad though. 5. Do they have any siblings? What’s their names? What is their relationship with them? Has their relationship changed since they were kids to adults? He does but the only one I’ll talk about is his half sister. Her name is Liza. Their relationship was always very distant, they grew up practically being just... strangers who happened to share a house. When they’re adults their relationship is much different, they become very good friends. 6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate? He hated school in general and was an awful student. It was’t that he was bad at the classes he was in (he’s actually quite smart), he just absolutely couldn’t be bothered to care. He dropped out his senior year, basically as soon as he was able to do so without anyone stopping him (when he turned 18) 7. Did they have lots of friends as a child? Did they keep any of their childhood friends into adulthood? NOPE. Max really didn’t have any friends at all. He was a weird kid and just kind of couldn’t click with anyone. He did have one friend for a good amount of years of his childhood, though. But his memories of that friend are very fuzzy. 8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals? I mean yeah he likes animals just fine but I don’t think he technically has any pets himself. 9. Do animals like them? Do they get on well with animals? He gets along ok with most animals, nothing remarkable one way or another. However, he does NOT get along with dogs. They don’t seem to ever like him. Just as well, he doesn’t like them either. 10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect? He’s actually GREAT with kids. He doesn’t think so, but no he’s awesome at dealing w/ them. Not sure if he’d actually want kids or if he ever has any at any point in his future. 11. Do they have any special diet requirements? Are they a vegetarian? Vegan? Have any allergies? Nahhh. But in his wolf state he will eat like all the meat in the house. Or go find fresh meat. 12. What is their favourite food? He LOVES junk food. Pizza’s his favorite. Spicy food’s also good, and he has a godawful sweet tooth. 13. What is their least favourite food? Not sure? He’s not horribly picky. Probably acts like super healthy food is nasty though. 14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal? ...no... this is such a weird question. 15. Are they good at cooking? Do they enjoy it? What do others think of their cooking? He’s very good at it, and loves doing it! He doesn’t do it often though because he’s incredibly lazy so I doubt anyone really gets food made by him much at all. 16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it? As far as I know he doesn’t collect anything! 17. Do they like to take photos? What do they like to take photos of? Selfies? What do they do with their photos? He’s actually not big on photos. He’s indifferent toward others taking them and has zero interest in taking them himself. 18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else Trash. Especially in terms of movies and tv shows. The worse the writing and/or acting is, the more he loves it. 19. What’s their least favourite genres? Probably stuff like sitcoms or daytime TV dramas, things that he really can’t get any amusement out of. 20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when their favourite song comes? He likes music a lot! He’d prob just turn the volume up obnoxiously high and sing along with it. 21. Do they have a temper? Are they patient? What are they like when they do lose their temper? HE HAS THE WORST TEMPER. He has a really short fuse and it doesn’t take much to make him snap if you’re pushing the right buttons. What he does when he loses his temper varies depending on the situation and who he’s angry at, but his outbursts are usually pretty quick and end just as fast. He holds a HELL of a grudge afterward though. 22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back? Can’t say he has a go-to insult? But he’d insult someone if he felt insulted first. Without hesitation. 23. Do they have a good memory? Short term or long term? Are they good with names? Or faces? Generally speaking his memory’s pretty good! It’s really nothing remarkable, just kind of average. 24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress? He snores horribly. Sleeps on a really soft and very beat-up and old mattress. Is not aware that mattresses are a thing that need to be replaced eventually. Builds up a very large collection of blankets. 25. What do they find funny? Do they have a good sense of humour? Are they funny themselves? He finds really dumb things funny. Usually things that aren’t really meant to BE funny. I’d say he has a good sense of humor? 26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions? He’s VERY visible about it when he’s happy. Smiles a lot, probably hums or sings under his breath, generally is much more sociable and friendly when he’s in a really good mood. 27. What makes them sad? Do they cry regularly? Do they cry openly or hide it? What are they like they are sad? He completely shuts down when he’s upset. He has a habit of isolating himself and utterly closing himself off to others. He becomes very distant, very unwilling to talk. He doesn’t usually cry like... at all, but when he does it’s really not something he can hide. 28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared? He does have a weird fear/aversion of clowns/jesters/anything like that. He usually responds to being scared with anger and defensiveness. 29. What do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? Do they tease them? Or get very over protective? For the most part he’d just acknowledge that it’s really none of his business. He might lightly tease them about it here and there, but otherwise he’s not gonna go sticking his nose into such a personal thing for others. 30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out? HAHA NO HE’D DIE. 31. Do they drink? What are they like drunk? What are they like hungover? How do they act when other people are drunk or hungover? Kind or teasing? Never struck me as the type to drink much, just occasionally. He is the type to be STUPID-HAPPY when drunk tho. Like everything’s awesome and hilarious and super good mood all around. He’s indifferent towards others being drunk around him and will usually just kinda respond like he normally would to them? 32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like? The boy frequently looks like he fell into a closet in the dark. He usually just buys what’s cheap but he has no idea how to dress to his body type so none of his clothes fit properly. Boring probably-super-worn-out pajama pants to bed. Doesn’t wear makeup. His hair is just kind of a thing that exists and he might brush it like once in the morning and that’s it. 33. What underwear do they wear? Boxers or briefs? Lacey? Comfy granny panties? Boxers 34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body? VERY VERY thin. He has a very fast metabolism so he just flatout does not put on weight. He’s... some very tall height above 6′6″, haven’t quite figured out how tall he is exactly. He’s decidedly indifferent toward his body, it’s just kind of there and he has no opinion of it really. 35. What’s their guilty pleasure? What is their totally unguilty pleasure? He has no guilty pleasures, only things that are stupid and awful that he feels no shame in enjoying. 36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing? He can! He’s good at singing and cooking, interests he picked up years ago from a friend. 37. Do they like to read? Are they a fast or slow reader? Do they like poetry? Fictional or non fiction? ...he likes to read comic books does that count... otherwise he really doesn’t enjoy reading. He doesn’t have much of an attention span for it. For what it’s worth though he can read pretty fast. 38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had? Sometimes he wishes he were more patient or altruistic and admires those traits a lot in others. Though he’s totally capable of being these things already. 39. Do they like letters? Or prefer emails/messaging? Nah on both levels. 40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert? SUGARY FOOD. And soda. And coffee with a lot of sugar in it. 41. What’s their sexuality? What do they find attractive? Physically and mentally? What do they like/need in a relationship? I have no idea, I just know he thinks his girlfriend is the prettiest thing to exist and is crazy about her. 42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition? Gonna skip this onnnneee. 43. Are they religious? What do they think of religion? What do they think of religious people? What do they think of non religious people? He’s not, and has no opinion of those who are other than that they’re just dong their own thing. 44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most? He likes warm weather. Warm springtime weather is probably ideal. He has zero cold tolerance and will complain a lot if he has to go out in the cold. 45. How do other people see them? Is it similar to how they see themselves? It realllly varies from person to person, since the way he acts depends a lot on how well he knows someone and how comfortable he is with them. 46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves? He CAN make a good impression? But he’s usually standoffish with new people. 47. How do they act in a formal occasion? What do they think of black tie wear? Do they enjoy fancy parties and love to chit chat or loathe the whole event? He’d have a good time it if it’s something someone really wanted him to go to, but he really wouldn’t socialize much. He’d prob just lowkey cling to people he knows or stay where the snacks are. He’s not the type to want anything to do with formal events on his own, though, and he feels weird dressing up. 48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend? He’s not big on them, but like with formal events he’d be fine if someone else wanted him to go. Otherwise he just really gets nothing out of them? 49. What is their most valued object? Are they sentimental? Is there something they have to take everywhere with them? He has a sentimental attachment to the beat-up old baseball cap he wears, and especially to the tooth necklace he wears. He’s almost never seen without that necklace. 50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials? He’s psychic. He’s a big cheater and would just bypass this by teleporting whatever he wants/needs at any given time. But generally speaking, when he travels he doesn’t bring much of anything with him.

#My OCs #Max

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apathetic-revenant · 8 years ago

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so I was having some thoughts about Gravity Falls last night, in lieu of going to sleep at a reasonable hour. specifically there were some things I noticed about Weirdmageddon.

literally only finished watching this show a week ago so like. I’ve no idea how much any of this may already have been discussed or pointed out. probably all of it. this post may well be hilariously redundant.

but uh

okay, so...initially the situation with Mabel wigging out over Dipper accepting Ford’s apprenticeship, and Dipper ultimately giving that up without much of any discussion on the matter, and just all that jazz, that bothered me a little bit. I do think the show handled Mabel’s characterization a bit awkwardly at points and the way she tended to get favored over Dipper resulted in some missed opportunities for development on her part.

(note that I’m saying this in the sense of “yeah they could have done that a bit better” not “screaming and punching my computer screen”. it’s not perfect. guess what! no tv show is. it becomes perfect when you learn to accept it for what it is. please don’t send me death threats for saying this.)

where was I? right. so. at the same time, even if the lack of focus on Dipper’s decision to give up the apprenticeship kind of made it seem kind of like another case of Dipper giving up what he wants for Mabel, that’s tempered pretty strongly by the fact that as much as the apprenticeship might be what Dipper wants it’s really not that great a thing for him in the long run when you think about it. and thinking about that was what led me to realize that actually, Dipper and Mabel’s situations with the apprenticeship and Mabeland actually parallel each other a lot more than initially meets the eye.

the situation with Mabeland is, quite obviously, that Mabel’s being given everything she could possibly want. it’s her perfect world where everything is as she wants it to be forever and nothing has to change or grow, and she never has to face anything uncomfortable or unhappy. thing is, this is basically what the proposed apprenticeship would be for Dipper, albeit in a much less obvious and thorough way since, y’know, it’s an offer being made by a real person instead of a fantasy prison conjured up by a dream demon. Dipper spends his whole summer idolizing the author of the journals and wanting to follow in his footsteps, and then he finds out that said author is actually his great-uncle and is way cool, gives Dipper the approval and validation he desperately wants, and then literally says he wants Dipper to follow in his footsteps. Ford’s offering Dipper a chance to do everything he wants-study weirdness, have grand adventures, spend time with someone who gets him and approves of the things that he’s previously been made fun of for-but he’s also, if unconsciously, offering him a chance to not have to do the things he doesn’t want to. he wouldn’t have to go back home, or back to school, or really interact much with anyone except Ford. he wouldn’t even have to put up with the things about Mabel he finds annoying, at the cost of also losing the things he likes about her, much like how in Mabeland Mabel can ‘fix’ the things she doesn’t like about Dipper by replacing him with a ‘better’ copy, at the cost of losing the things she does like about him, since whatever she says it’s pretty clear Dippy Fresh really doesn’t bear any resemblance to Dipper.

don’t get me wrong, I love Ford and I love Dipper and I think their relationship could be great for them in a lot of ways. Ford gives Dipper a self-esteem boost that he badly needs, and gives him someone to talk to and connect with about his interests, something he’s obviously sorely lacking; Dipper tempers Ford’s cynicism with enthusiasm and makes him come out of his shell some. but the two also share a lot of not necessarily healthy traits-obsessiveness, overthinking, paranoia, difficulty with socializing/communicating, a tendency to ignore health or safety when in pursuit of a goal-and if there’s no one else around to temper any of that, it’s gonna turn into an echo chamber that magnifies those traits badly. (this is not even getting into the fact that no one should ever let Ford “it’s okay to give children weapons, right” Pines be solely in charge of raising a teenage boy).

I saw someone point out-I think it was on TV Tropes somewhere-that accepting Ford’s apprenticeship would mean that Dipper basically would get to avoid confronting the things that are hardest for him. yeah he would be dealing with all kinds of scary things, but at the end of the day monsters and mortal peril are clearly not what Dipper has the hardest time with; we see several times throughout the show that he struggles most with social issues, communicating and connecting with other people, and repeatedly we see that he has a tendency to try to ‘cheat’ at this situations either by over-planning or more literally by falling back on actual magic/weird science (the clones, the time travel, the shrink ray, etc). that’s something he improves a lot on over the course of the show but it’s not something that’s going to get any better if he just spends his entire adolescence in a basement lab with Ford. he even says something along those lines when he tells Mabel he’s not accepting the apprenticeship, so he’s clearly aware of this to some degree (”I actually thought I was going to spend my entire teenage years cooped up in a lab with Ford” or something like that).

basically, both Mabeland and Ford’s apprenticeship are temptations for Mabel and Dipper that offer them the chance to have what they want, or at least what they think they want, and the chance to escape from the things they find unpleasant; but by doing that they would also not be growing as people, or at least not in very healthy ways. when Mabel rejects Mabeland and Dipper rejects the apprenticeship, they’re basically turning down comfortable stagnancy in favor of change and growth despite that being frightening and unknown.

I also sort of feel like it’s relevant that both situations are sort of capitalizing on or maximizing the qualities that are most prominent for the twins, and the ones that they identify with the most. Mabel, quite obviously, has her personality imprinted all over Mabeland; it’s everything she loves, silliness, sparkliness, cuteness, stuffed animals and dream boys and sugar. the apprenticeship is also centered around Dipper’s core interests and qualities, his intelligence, his research ability, his love for the paranormal and weird. and I think that’s a big part of what makes them so tempting because both of the twins are afraid of losing those things. a recurring theme in the show is “if I’m not [single personality trait], what am I?” Dipper struggles with this more obviously, but we also see that Mabel has some insecurity there like in Irrational Treasure where she reacts very badly to Pacifica mocking her silliness, so much so that it’s one of the only times where we see her actively trying to change her own behavior. for both twins growing up and returning home could seem to pose the frightening risk of losing those things and what they see as their identities along with them: Dipper would be going back to a place that’s presumably quite normal and doesn’t have the weirdness that he loves or anyone to encourage his interest in it, and Mabel-I think a big part of Mabel’s desire for summer to never end and things to stay as they are might come from the fact that a lot of the things she loves and centers her personality around, all her sparkles and hyperactiveness and glitter, are the kind of things society would generally consider childish, things she would be expected to start growing out of as she enters high school and might be mocked or reprimanded for if she doesn’t. which makes for a clear contrast between Mabel and Dipper that probably didn’t help the divide growing between them in season 2 at all: Dipper is in a hurry to grow up as fast as possible while Mabel wants to hang on to childhood. Mabel could easily see herself as being more threatened by oncoming adulthood than Dipper because in contrast a lot of Dipper’s core personality traits-his intelligence and analyticalness- are things he would be expected to retain and develop as he grows up, even praised for. (let’s face it, Dipper’s basically a college student already.)

so, Mabeland and the apprenticeship are tempting not just because they offer what the twins want in an immediate and material sense but because they offer safety and reinforcement of the twins’ identities at a time in their lives when anyone is going to be questioning and worrying over that a lot, without even getting into massively complicated family dynamics and literal armageddon.

but, even as the younger Pines twins are about to go brave a big scary unknown future, the show kind of also offers a point of comfort that contrasts all that. look at the older Pines twins.

what are Stan and Ford doing at the end of the show? they’re fulfilling their childhood dream, sailing around the world together looking for treasure and adventure (and babes). it took a huge amount of time and effort and pain and trauma for them to get there, but they got there in the end. and the thing is, for them, this is still change. if the show ended the way things were going right before Weirdmageddon, you’d have Ford back to studying and being more or less isolated, and Stan would be homeless again which would almost certainly mean he’d have to go back to conning and stealing and all kinds of shady business practices just to keep going. basically, it would be stagnancy for both of them, things continuing on the way they were before. change and growth, the same thing that’s looming and frightening for Dipper and Mabel at the moment, is what allows Ford and Stan to move on from unhappy lives and do what they always wanted. and for all the fear that the younger twins are facing in growing up, the fact that Stan and Ford are living out the dream they had as children is there to prove that growing up doesn’t have to mean giving up what you love or losing your identity. it all sort of comes full circle in the end.

/2 cents

#gravity falls #gravity falls spoilers #weirdmageddon #theories #overthinking

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