#he's obviously not trying to do any of this i just have brainworms i need to talk about | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

myriadparacosm · 1 year ago

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Modern AU with Regulus Coroner and Detective James

Just a small one-shot because I got an intense brainworm from my post about this cliché (:

My AO3

Warning: Horror

There is an anomaly. Regulus wants to say that it is in his life because the lab’ is his and in a logical way his life but as Evan likes to remind him: he wouldn’t want to deal with everything else outside from the corpses he examines.

Regulus could perfectly work anywhere if he wants to. They both know it but it’s true that Regulus wouldn’t enjoy the management, employees and so on, despite his upbringing that made him fit, and deserving, of a position of power and not— an employee as he might appear on paper. Still, since the anomaly is always showing in his territory then this makes it Regulus’ and should leave him any right on how to deal with it.

“Can you-” The voice dries, chokes, with no politeness despite the obvious try. “Holy crap. Don’t show it to me.”

His anomaly is obnoxious and very chatty even though it’s thrown in an environment that only disturbs him. It should have gotten used to it by now; especially with how often it gravitates toward Regulus who perhaps is not near dead bodies only when he goes to the toilet.

“This?” He asks and fakes a perfect innocence with his eyebrows as he presents the skull in his hand with a lot of flesh still holding on.

He has to admit that it’s not a pretty one as whoever killed this woman tried to cover it with various things. A piece of flesh falls off with a loud splash but his eyes are still on the ever-prying anomaly who showed up with coffees and a bag of pastries.

“Oh God.”

“Potter, you better not puke in here or you will end up like this woman.”

James Potter snorts. He tries to look at him but he needs to quickly glance away because of the corpse beside Regulus. Thankfully he manages to not let anything fall as he hastily puts down the paper bag and the coffees on a small table.

“I’m not,” he assures as if his usual warm, soft-looking, skin hasn’t completely lost colour in a worrying way.

Regulus scoffs but at least he doesn’t have James’ eyes on him anymore. “Why do you come here anyway? It only just arrived.” He has his suspicions of course, but it’s better to ignore them whenever it’s about this man.

“Well it’s my case.”

It’s his usual excuse and more than often he can’t stand the sight of the victims - which isn’t a bad thing as James is perfectly capable in his job, which doesn’t require him to check on Regulus and the bodies as he would be informed the second they have any informations about any of them.

“Yes I know, you brought her here.”

“It’s a woman?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t have much yet outside that it’s obviously human work by the state of it; someone definitely tried to make her disappear which always calls for a murder. “Why are you cluttering my space?” He asks with a pointed look at what he brought.

“Coffee, you like coffee.”

“I like caffeine,” he deadpans, isolating another part of the flesh to study it further.

“And I brought something to eat,” James adds with his cheer slowly coming back. He is staring at the documents rather than where Regulus is working. “Can’t let you work with an empty stomach.”

“Does this look like a place where I would eat?”

This time their eyes meet. It’s definitely not right that Regulus enjoys the squirm building up in James’ eyes but he finds it fascinating to see when it becomes too much for him to handle. People keep saying that he should cut him some slack since they are co-workers, or partners as Potter likes to say with a wink, but Regulus only agreed to help the investigations by looking at the corpses. He never thought this included a detective who likes to walk in to watch him work and throw up here and then.

“Oh right,” he whispers, horrified, and his eyes pause on the corpse before flying back to his presents. “Shit I didn’t thi-”

“I could eat,” Regulus says, smirking when Potter’s focus sharpens on him, just to watch him squirm. “But I can’t compromise the evidence with food or liquids around like that.”

He grimaces, glancing at the paper bag and him. “You could eat here? With— like right now? With the smell?”

“Really Potter, you’re the only one bothered. Just put this in my office,” he asks because he is going to plunge his hands any minute in the poor woman and James won’t handle the sight.

“Oh sure, I will wait for you there.”

“Potter.”

James beams at him. “Yes?”

“Would you mind dropping these to Pandora for her to analyse them?” He gestures to the part he has isolated for further study in separate containers.

It’s mostly flesh, bloody, and James is clearly disgusted by the idea. He warily glances at Regulus who keeps his face perfectly professional. James always tugs at his childishness, which is always a surprise, but the teasing is so easy and satisfying.

“The…”

“There is a piece of the stomach and parts that are unusual but I still have a lot to do here.” He gestures with his dirty gloves at the table where the corpse lay. “You do want to figure out what happened to her and who did it, right?”

James can’t stop the pained grimace but he nods and takes the paper bag between his teeth, takes the two coffee in one hand and awkwardly shuffles closer to accept the samples in the other one. He tries really hard to not look at what he is transporting but his nose wrinkles. Regulus pities him, though he is sure that James can handle this simple quest, so he rewards him with an almost smile. His warm eyes are stuck on him for far longer than necessary so he clears his throat and gestures at him to go.

Whatever James tries to say is muffled by the paper bag in his mouth, which he could have easily carried any other way, but he doesn’t try again and quickly walks out with a hand as far away from him as possible.

Regulus does not let his eyes fall on James’ ass but he can easily picture it. He shakes his head with a huff and hopes that the heat on his cheeks is only a feeling and not noticeable. James always leaves him with that feeling of not being quite conscious and everything hits him with the first breath once he is away from his aura. It’s not entirely unpleasant but he is relieved to be left alone.

He is still surprised that they are still working together. James, as benevolent and tenacious as he is, should have never ended up anywhere near Regulus’ world. Before taking cases of murders, he has only worked to find the missing persons which brought a missing child found dead, who has shown many signs of abuse and rape proved by Regulus’ work and thus dug up a nasty human trafficking. That’s how they crossed paths despite how James avoids the gruesome sights of death. He is a great detective from what Regulus has heard, and seen, which has only been proved every time they solved a case together.

Though James doesn’t appear to need a reason to drop by since he has been doing it for many months now. He has become used to the sight of skeletons and bones once they are cleaned but the rest still disgusts him and yet he always drops by Regulus’ lab. Thrice he threw up and only the last two times were aimed at a garbage can; it had been the early days and most people aren’t as comfortable with this environment as Regulus is.

There is nothing to fear from dead people.

It takes him longer than he thought to finish the first round of inspection on the dead woman and he sends more things for them to be analysed before finally going back to his office. James is up and ready, greeting him like usual, and explains that he kept the coffee heated up by using the small boiler in there. He mentions that the pastries are still great but are better to be eaten right away before the chocolate cools down.

Regulus is all about finding evidence, the history and identifying the dead persons and James can be of help sometimes but not often compared to his colleagues. Except that he likes to talk about the case and give all the details to Regulus. He does have helpful insights from time to time but more than often he lets James have the chance to talk. It’s a bit of a weird process when Regulus thinks about it but he also doesn’t quite want to change it. If James needs someone listening to him to help him think, there are a lot of people around for that. Regulus seems to be his favourite choice ever since they started to work together.

James’ jaw is very much appealing, far too much, and Regulus lets him ramble as he scrutinises the stubble that must have appeared overnight. It suits him terribly and Regulus wants to touch it. James, despite his awful eyesight without glasses, catches him staring at some point and asks him, with his ever-grin, what is on his mind. Regulus lies without a problem and decides it’s time to get back to work if he has shared everything about the case.

He smiles at Regulus as if he knows something more but he doesn’t wait on it since his cheeks are flushing and goes back to work. James is probably busy because he doesn’t come back at all during the day. Regulus gets a text from him with his thoughts on the suspects and about the results the lab’ sent him earlier. He only checks it at the end of the day as he finishes in his office.

James: I bet by tomorrow we will have the murderer arrested thanks to our brilliant and pretty genius.

Regulus scowls and turns his phone screen down to try to ignore the text. It lasts for a second before he reads it again with flaming cheeks and a scowl that does nothing to fight off the smile on his face.

Regulus: I sure hope you aren’t talking about me.

James: Do you know any other handsome genius around here?

Still think you’re pretty though

This man has no shame and shouldn’t be allowed anywhere Regulus’ space anymore. He might throw the next bone or flesh at him for that comment.

Regulus: I will make a deal with the murderer to get rid of you just for that comment

“Reggie, you got a gift,” Pandora sing-songs and laughs when he startles in his seat. “I bet it’s from the same person making you blush over texts.”

“I’m not blushing,” he huffs out and clears his throat as he tries to get his face to go back to its usual blankness. “What is it?”

She chuckles at his face and sits at the other side of his desk to hand him a small box covered in shiny wrapping paper. “Smells like chocolate. James is very romantic so I’m not surprised.”

Regulus eyes the box and shakes it a bit to guess by the rattle what might be inside it. It does smell like chocolate. “It doesn’t have to be him.”

“Reggie, you’re very dashing and many people look at you but not many are brave enough to talk to you and even less flirt. It has to be James— oh maybe now you can call him by his name like he has been begging you to do for the last months. It looks pretty expensive. Just like the other gifts you have been receiving.”

“I do not buy and send gifts to myself like Barty said,” he says because her voice edges into something silly and childish. Though it’s a bit strange that James, or whoever else, is sending them at his workplace rather than his home. If it was James then he would know his address.

It’s been perhaps two months since he has been regularly receiving gifts almost every week. They are all somewhat romantic and cliche - which could fit with James’ persona but Regulus is still weirded out that he never mentioned or signed them. A large bouquet of roses, bath products and expensive lotions, a poem, a mix-tape on a CD and even a watch somehow ended up for him. They are all expensive but it doesn’t quite charm him.

The poem and the mix-tape are more personal but even then Regulus doesn’t find anything interesting - he would honestly be surprised if they are from James but no one is perfect and their tastes are probably very different. All of his friends are convinced it’s from him and Regulus is conflicted at the idea. The expensive watch is left in its box as he doesn’t really like the feeling of something constricting his wrists and the lotions just smell wrong - James has commented on the vanilla scent on his hair before so he should know better to buy what Regulus prefers.

The box is only addressed to him: Regulus Black. There is no real hint to guess from who it might be. He hesitates to check his phone where James must have answered to him already because he apparently has nothing better to do in his life than text him.

“You can’t be sure. It’s anonymous which means it could be from anyone,” he says as he tears the wrapping paper off. “And we only work together so why should I call him by his name.”

“You call me by my name and we work together. Also Evan. And Barty. Even if he doesn’t really work here, he is always in Evan’s office or under his desk.”

“I don’t want to picture what’s going on in his office and even less where Barty hides,” he huffs with a disgusted noise. “And you’re special Pandora, that’s why.”

She blinks at him before beaming, leaning forward to watch him open the unmistakable box of chocolate. “More special than James Potter?”

“Obviously,” he replies easily and returns her smile before frowning at the sweets. “Wait, these are incredibly expensive and rare to get.”

“Really?” She peeks at the chocolates. “It does smell good.”

“They are from Switzerland.” He offers her the card describing the taste of all the different chocolates like it’s the best-sellers of poetry in French. “I only ate those when we travelled to France to visit family when I was young,” he explains. “They have only one shop in Paris and just to get a box you need to call at least three months before to have a small chance of getting one. It’s been years since I saw one of these.”

“So James went to France or Switzerland to buy these for you?” Pandora asks and picks one to eat it.

“I doubt it. He hasn’t been missing work since he started to bother me. Plus they don’t ship them, I know that because Sirius moaned about it for hours last year for his birthday.”

“They are so good!” She exclaims and works her mouth around the taste, hastily licking her lips with a look at the chocolates. “Which one is your favourite? Just so I don’t eat all of them.”

He distractedly points them out and lets her have her share before retrieving his phone. This gift must have cost a lot and the whole ordeal to even get them here must have been a pain in the ass. No one in their circle has travelled to France either and Regulus isn’t even sure that he told about these chocolates to other people outside of Sirius. There are memories better left forgotten.

He doesn’t open the unread message from James yet, playing with his phone as he tries to picture how he might have heard of them. There is still no proof that it’s from him but Regulus certainly hopes so. The last time he ate these chocolates comes back to his mind.

“Oh crap.”

Pandora looks up with one cheek full and licking one of her fingers. “What?”

“My parents.”

She frowns, straightening in her seat with no trace of previous joy or amusement. “Yes?”

“They used to let people write articles about me and Sirius when we were kids,” he recalls. “To show us off as the next brilliant minds of our generation because wealthy people have nothing better to do than cause jealousy and advertise their lives to others.”

“I remember. You were so cute as a child, always pouty and with a frown. Baby Black.”

He throws a small glare. “Well, I remember one Christmas they followed us all the time outside on our ‘family walks’, which of course has never been a real thing, and we went to this chocolate shop to pick a box. They asked me and Sirius if we liked them and why.”

Pandora frowns slightly. “And you think James found this article, bought these for you?”

“I sure hope he didn’t. These articles are awful and I don’t need him to know about my family.”

“Aw, he would still love you.”

Regulus flushes. “Shut it or you won't get any more chocolate.”

She snorts and hands one to him before eating another sweet. It’s still as great as he remembers but he finds himself more focused on his phone.

James: I’m sure even the murderer will agree with me though and I always fight for the truth

Are you mad?

I’m not mocking you, I promise

I won’t call you pretty again if you don’t want me to

Once we finish this case let me buy you dinner!

Anything you want

Really

Regulus shouldn’t enjoy getting so many texts like that. James obviously texts and thinks at the same time, always needing several texts when he could have fit everything in one. His toes curl in his shoes at the idea of dinner with him. It’s not the first time he has offered to buy Regulus dinner - or breakfast or lunch or a snack - and he agreed some rare times because it always leaves him reeling for the rest of the day. James has an effect over him that should be illegal.

“What is he saying?” Pandora playfully whispers.

He purses his lips and taps his finger on the phone as he thinks of an answer. “The usual.”

“Why aren’t you going out with him? Everyone here knows that you like him despite what you say. And I’m convinced that he knows it too.”

“He went out with Lily here before.”

“And? You had exes too. Lily and him are on good terms but just friends.”

“They almost got married and planned to have a child,” Regulus scoffs. “This is not just a random ex.”

“Are you jealous?”

He purses his lips. “No.”

For a time maybe he was. Regulus has known James before they started to work together because everyone likes Lily and talks about her and her fantastic fiance-to-be. There is no clue on why they never got engaged and only came back as friends. James had never come by this area of the laboratory but Regulus has spotted him picking up or dropping Lily off over the years. They were the perfect soulmates and he only allowed himself to trail his eyes over James here and there before focusing on his own life.

Somehow, they work together now and he seems to have taken a liking to pester Regulus one way or another - always flirting or trying to make him laugh which might be the same thing after all.

“You should give him a chance, Reggie. I have a good feeling about it. You would be so cute together.”

“If his taste in music is anything to go by then one of us will die before the third date.”

Pandora grimaces. “Ouch, the mix-tape was that bad?”

“If they are from him. The gifts are expensive but generic,” he explains. “He might have bought it from a random shop really.”

Regulus doesn’t have anything against cliches but outside of the chocolates, nothing is really pleasing him. Which is a bit surprising considering all the details James tries to get from him. He will never be more relieved that Sirius and James never crossed paths when either of them dropped by. They would probably hit off right away and Regulus’ intuition is rarely wrong. Plus Sirius would give all the embarrassing details about him to James without thinking twice.

“Maybe he doesn’t want to come off too strong?” She supposes. “The chocolates are great though, right? Maybe the next ones will be better.”

“Still, it doesn’t mean it’s Potter.”

“You need more faith.”

“You had enough chocolate,” he decides and closes the box despite her distressed gasp.

“Wha- Reggie! Come on, think about it. Why would he come see you in the lab’ all the time when there is more than often a dead body next to you.”

Regulus rolls his eyes but stays quiet. She wouldn’t listen to him either way. The possibility that James comes, despite how uncomfortable he is near the corpses, to just see him is one that already tingles his brain. Still, Potter never truly asked him out on a date; all of it could be out of friendliness. He turns back to his phone.

Regulus: Thoughts on chocolates?

James: Love it

Do you want some?

He squints at his phone but he isn’t really surprised by the answer. There's still no hints whether James is the one sending all these gifts and indulging in the fantasy can be dangerous.

Pandora doesn’t insist and walks out of his office and the building with him, sharing her thoughts on what they have found so far on the corpse. It’s messy and they don’t have much yet but it’s enough to distract him. He leaves James’ text on read and decides that he deserves a night where he stops thinking about feelings and whatnot.

When he is at home, he checks his phone and feels somewhat relieved that James didn’t send another text. Regulus never feels like he is quite on his feet when it comes to him - not quite without gravity but also not down on earth with a full control of himself.

Pandora almost finished the chocolates by herself and he is happy that someone enjoys it. The bad feeling probably comes from all his memories of his childhood, triggered by the sight of this brand. It could also be Pandora’s wishful thoughts about James and him that bums him out. Regulus picks a chocolate to eat and tries to ignore it.

Sirius has sent him a picture himself, clad with his endless leather jacket for good luck, to inform him that he has the hottest date ever tonight. Regulus snorts and opts to reply with a barfing face before taking his shower. He hopes it goes well for him because his brother has been mooning over this date forever. If it’s a disaster, Regulus might just book a trip to stay away from Sirius’ sobs and lament.

Just when he has finished his shower, he is surprised by his front door ringing. Regulus hasn’t ordered anything and he doubts that Sirius decided to drop by before his date. A series of knocks follow and he sighs at the insistence.

“Who is it?” He rolls his eyes and finishes putting on his dark green clothes for the night before walking toward his front door. “Hello?”

It would be crazy and he feels silly at the thought but could it be Potter? He hadn’t answered his last text and he wouldn’t be surprised that he truly believes that Regulus is mad at him and shows up with his favourite take-outs to soothe him like it had happened for long cases. The thought truly pleases him and he catches his reflection blushing on his way to the front door.

“It’s— I’m your neighbor, Mr. Melbourg.”

Regulus frowns in surprise before recalling him. He figures something is wrong and needs help and since he already answered, it would be rude to completely ignore him now.

It’s not he knows. He doesn’t have the time to ask or procede the stun gun plunged into his neck.

Regulus wakes up to the rain on his face. He is uncomfortable but he barely has the strength to blink his eyes open. Wherever he is lying is wet, uneven and the edges dig into him.

He can’t turn his head and his neck seems to burn. He hisses in pain when more drops of water fall on him. His eyes request a long time before offering any proper sight. The rain is scarce but the hole in the roof gives them all the chance to fall down on him.

“Shit,” he hisses out when a drop dives right into his left eye.

Another grunt of pain leaves him as he stubbornly raises a hand to cover his eyes. The wind rattles around him as he realises that he is adorned in a white shirt with long sleeves with dark smudges here and there. His fingers are also coated in a liquid. When the smell of blood catches up to him, Regulus realises that he is not at his apartment anymore.

He sits up as fast as he can despite the torture but he is shot with a wave of nausea and his body slips out of his grasp. His head thrums in pain as he forces himself to get on his elbows and slowly sits up. What he previously wore has been replaced by ivory clothes. The weak lamp near the hole of the roof swings with the wind without giving much light. Regulus can barely discern his whole body and that he is at the bottom in a large hole.

Something cracks beneath him when he tries to stand up. Regulus stares down at his bare feet, wet and cold, before he manages to focus on the decomposed body almost touching him. His breathing starts to panic.

No matter where he looks, there are only corpses. Regulus is sitting in a pit of death and he makes the mistake to look around him to finally realise what just cracked is a bone under him. He hastily tries to get on his feet despite the white noise overwhelming his thoughts.

Regulus stumbles and is too disoriented to make it far, falling back into the rotten meat acting as a floor. There is a small pool of blood, only coming back up where his weight is, but it clings to his skin and clothes. His eyes try to stay afloat but there doesn’t seem to be any exit out of this pit. Everything is cold and the tears clinging to his eyes is the only thing warming him up. He swallows and stands up as best as he can, shaking off the tingling going through his body.

They kidnapped him. Whoever showed up at his house dropped him here and yet he is alive. Everything else around him is dead, with or without flesh, and the blood appears to have been left there to pool. He can’t see what’s underneath it - if the ground is bleeding out from the quantity or they are in something akin to a pool. The walls of the hole are made of dirt. Regulus’ fingers might be able to reach out of it but he doubts that he could hold on to something to drag himself up. His throat is still burning and he cautiously pats it to feel where he was stunned. It’s painful and he is still groggy despite the shot of fear and adrenaline keeping him awake.

It’s worrying that he is still alive. He hopes that his kidnapper isn’t some psychopath eager to watch people become crazy at the bottom of this hole and beg for food and water. No one else is wearing clothes beside him except for two skeletons also dressed in white fancy clothes.

They are laying next to each other with their hands put together. Compared to the other corpses, they are perfectly clean if not shiny, but what catches his attention are the jewelleries and especially one of the rings.

It’s uncomfortable to walk but he rushes to get closer, navigating through the loose bones and flesh, falling on his knees and grunting in pain until he gets closer. With a trembling hand, he grabs the limb of the skeleton in the stark bleached tuxedo to be sure that he isn’t hallucinating. The ring is with no doubt the old relic of the Black’s family. Sirius could have inherited it but refused, just like Regulus did.

“Father?” He whispers, letting go of the hand to look closer at the brooch resting on his chest; exactly what his father used to wear, just like the cufflinks.

What he assumes is his mother has her dedicated necklace and her earrings stapled into the skull. Regulus stays quiet in stupor before noticing that he had been placed beneath and between them, laying in the same way, and he has an uncomfortable feeling about the numerous other corpses under him without any clothes or distinction.

It can’t be their parents. He is sure of that. Sirius and he refused to get them buried, not after they finally escaped them, and just like for their father who died years before their mother - they cremated them and flushed down the toilet.

“They never respected us alive so why should we?” Sirius had said without any kindness as he shook their urns empty.

Regulus’ hand had rested on the flush button, waiting for him to finish. “Because we are better than them?” He had replied, not requesting for a real answer.

Their eyes had met and the last wash of the urn was thrown in the toilet. “Not tonight,” Sirius had declared and Regulus triggered the flush.

It’s not their real corpses but the jewellery can not be random. Whoever prepared them, obviously caring, knew what they were doing with every detail down. Regulus is also dressed in white just like them and it pushes him to quickly distance himself. Whose skeletons are these? They obviously dressed them up as Orion and Walburga Black and it must have cost a fortune to get their hands on these relics. He wouldn’t have known himself how to retrieve them and as their son it would have been probably easy.

He manages to reach a wall, grimacing at the bones breaking painfully under his bare feet with the blood slithering up. The lamp above him is no help so he tries his best by feeling up the dirt and rocks for any escape. It takes him three tries to find the right footing to stretch himself as much as he can and dabble with a hand the surface next to the hole. It’s rough polished stone, nothing he can grab on to, and he can’t see anything standing on any side of the edges.

Amongst the corpses, he doubts he can find anything useful. He could take the clothes off his false parents to tie them together but he doesn’t see what use it would be. The rain continues to peacefully fall through the gape of the roof.

His kidnapper obviously had to come down this hole at some point. The impostors had been cautiously placed, hands together, and Regulus has a suspicion that they clean the bones and polish them just by the look and feeling of it. They must use a ladder but it couldn’t be placed in a safe way with how uneven the floor is thanks to all the water, blood, bones and guts.

Regulus toddles his way through the hole, wishing to find any spot where his footing isn’t wobbly. There is no other sound outside from the cracks, splotches and the rain. He hopes it’s a good sign that this psychopath isn’t around.

Why is he alive? The stun gun could have been a knife and even here, he could have easily been slaughtered and thrown into the pit with the rest of them. He doesn’t hope that his kidnapper assumed that he was dead - it would have been easy to check. The clothes are starting to cling to him and he feels sick at the realisation that he has been changed unconscious. Nothing hurts thankfully but the lack of underwear doesn’t help his imagination.

A rock stands out. It barely is noticeable but Regulus is sticking to the wall to help his walk and so can see that it sticks out. He tries to move it with no result, hopefully a sign that it’s larger than it looks. It’s not far off the ground, meaning he could try to put a foot on it to gain some height, but there isn’t enough surface to have a clear handle.

He takes a deep breath, feeling his teeth rattle and the nausea climbing up to him. His fingers shake but they dig into the dirt. A large part of the wall might fall down if he disrupts it too much. There is no hint on whether it’s unstable but it feels solid to his hands. With no other exit, he tries his luck there by clearing as much space above the rock for him to hopefully use it as a hooking point. If the whole structure crashes down on him then he might have the chance to die right away.

It hurts as he becomes more desperate. Nothing down here can attack him - they are all dead already but he hurries. Anything that comes from above might be dangerous and he really doesn’t want to stick around for that. He has been at home all alone, with no plans with anyone, and Sirius is busy on a date which means that if he gets lucky then he will only contact him in the afternoon tomorrow.

Maybe it’s already been a day or two since Regulus laid down amongst the dead but the rain has started on his way home, which could mean he isn’t far from the city and it might not have been long since his kidnapper got him.

His fingers ache from the cold and the effort but has cleared enough to have a somewhat footstool. Regulus looks up at the rain with a faint wish. The relief and joy plummets with him at his first try. He falls nastily and a bone digs into his hip like a rough knife. Thankfully it hasn’t truly stabbed him but the pain is there.

His feet are wet with blood and he stands up miserably before tearing one of the sleeves of his shirt to dry one as much as he can. He can’t stay long on it, the stone is still small and slightly leaning toward the hole, so he only takes a peek to see if someone is around before heaving himself painfully out of the pit.

Nothing is grimy and wet but the odour is still clinging onto him. He heaves out in relief and quickly takes a proper look around. It’s a small church, abandoned by the look of it. There is electricity though by the look of the few lamps. A ladder is not far against a row of seats on the ground.

No sound reaches him and Regulus tries to take it as a good omen. The lack of city noise worries him though. There aren’t many churches abandoned in the city either way so it must be outside of it. He cautiously makes his way, trying to not breathe too loud.

The front doors are sealed, no matter how much he pushes or pulls. All the windows are tall but he could break one of them by throwing something and climbing with the ladder or a seat. Still, he has no idea where he is and there is a chance that the psychopath is around. His body has shaken off all the grogginess and the tingling due to the stun gun but it’s enough to subdue all the pain. One single door is on the left of the church and it’s only thanks to the lack of noise that he makes his way toward it. His bare footstep would have probably been heard by now if someone else was in here but perhaps the rain and wind covered him his track.

He waits at the other side of the door, lips pursed and breathing as silently as possible, before trying his luck. No one else is here but a large altar faces him.

“There is a creep who tried to talk to me,” Sirius had said, almost two months ago. “Some pervert asked me to sign one of our interviews from when we were 12 or 13, looking like a complete nut. I’m sure I saw him staring at me from the other side of the street after that but he ran too fast for me to beat him up. Just be careful in case he is one of these wankers still believing in the Old Black Family bullshit.”

Regulus obviously found him. Or the other way around. The altar is mostly dedicated to Sirius and him, with pictures from their childhood printed in magazines, cut and enlarged, and more recent one - Regulus going to work, eating dinner with Sirius, grocery shopping. Same goes for Sirius. There are parts of the interviews too with words high-lightened amongst the candles, Latin words carved into real bones and an obvious bowl of blood which smells to be used as paint.

There are two small notebooks brimming with pages; one dedicated to him and the other to Sirius by the placement beside their larger recent picture. He opens his and finds a summary of him with cut-outs of clothes, items, jewelries and events like the movie or the opera in it.

All the gifts he has received have obviously come from him. He exhales through his nose to not throw up.

Sirius hasn’t mentioned any gifts but then he might have scared him off enough to not even try on him. Regulus doesn’t remember any creep and he doubts he has missed it so perhaps he has changed his method with him. He has been stupid enough to believe Pandora and her theory that it’s James who tried to charm his way in. Of course he has a bloody creep after him.

He closes the notebook. There are pictures of their whole family on the altar too, even some he can’t recognize. This person is definitely one of these people who would have blindly followed their parents. Their family created an empire of fortune but they also cultivated a fanaticism around them, akin to a religion, and their parents used all of it to expand their control. Be it their habits, wishes and everything else that made people look at them like some kind of meshias. Sirius nor him actually need to work and when Regulus went to college they tried to offer everything to him with the same thought that he is some kind of idol.

This could explain why this mad man made corpses to look like Walburga and Orion. It could be their grandparents’ skeletons since their parents’ remains are none. The amount of corpses in the pit, some fresh by the amount of flesh, blood and the smell, and all the blood used up as some kind of decorations– this is nothing more than a bloody ritual that their parents would have come up with to see people hurt themselves for their pretty eyes.

He takes the rest of the room in. There is a simple bed and a table with a chair but nothing that he could use as a weapon. The light is better here and he sees his face in a stark white plate from the table.

His face has been painted on with blood. It has already dried and the feel of it comes to him with a vicious vertigo. There is a big smile engraved with the blood across his lips and cheeks. His eyes are circled and a sort of crown is drawn on his forehead.

Regulus needs to get out of here. There aren't any knives or guns, anything that could help him to get out or defend himself. Almost tempted to trash the room and the altar, he doesn’t need to because he finally finds a phone under the pile of old magazines.

His brain needs one second too long to remember any phone number. James would come right away and he is used to answering the phone in the middle of the night with his work. But the psychopath might have gone after Sirius. The altar is as decorated for him as for his brother which definitely means he wants him too. Sirius has seen the face of this mad man so he will know right away who to look for. His heart hammers and the phone rings in his shaky hand.

“Reggie, you better not cockblock me or-”

“Help me,” he sobs out with no shame.

He tries to breathe in and out to stop the cries but they are too strong.

“What?!” Sirius shouts and his voice becomes clearer. “Reggie, where are you?”

“I don’t know. This- the creep. He kidnapped me,” he gasps. “He is insane– there is-”

His brother screams and swears but the phone doesn’t catch everything with the ruckus going on behind him.

“This bloody pervert! Are you okay? Is he there?”

Regulus sniffs and leans away from the phone to try to hear something. “I don’t know. I’m– it’s a small church I think.”

“Okay, okay, Reggie keep breathing, alright?” He says but he is the one sounding more panicked and breathless. “I will come get you. I can find you. Is it a cellphone?”

“No,” he croaks out and manages to take a proper breath at the promise that he is coming for him. “I can try to get out by one of the windows.”

“You get out of there,” Sirius orders. “I will come get you, just run and I will fi-”

A shot echoes through the church. Regulus cries in pain and falls when his leg slumps once the bullet pierces through it. His ears ring and he barely finds the strength to open his eyes before his face is grabbed. He looks up at the wide smile.

“I should have known you’re smart,” the man purrs.

The phone is dead silent, swaying from its cord. He fights the grip the best he can but his leg ache and tugs at his nerves. His fingers scratch what it can but he only seems to get more pleasure out of his struggle.

“Let go of me!” Regulus barks out and gags when a hand grabs him by his throat.

“Shush, I don’t want to hurt you,” he mourns with a tender look clashing with the crazy shake of his eyes. “I’m sorry for your leg but I will take good care of you. You surprised me that’s all.”

He hauls him up but with the lack of air and the pain, Regulus can’t find his footing. His hands scramble to find some support. The grip lessens a bit but the pressure is still killing him.

“No worries, doll. I can replace your leg if we can’t save it.”

The man isn't taller or larger but he is easily in control despite the trashing Regulus tries as he is dragged out of the room. A hand digs into his hip and a nose dips into his hair to take a loud sniff. Regulus makes the mistake to use his bleeding leg to fight and the pain subdues him rather quickly. His head is starting to spin but he tries to ground himself by grinding his teeth together.

“Have you called your brother?” He asks and shuffles through the church where a bag sits on a seat. “I would have brought him here too but he was with this man— a nobody, impure and stupid.”

“What do you want?” Regulus hisses.

The pit is right beside them and Regulus fears that he is going to be thrown in there - with his wound, he won’t manage to get out. A knife isn’t far, next to the bag, and the man had slipped his gun back in his pants’ pocket. He doesn’t have the time to try to get it. His hands are pulled together within one, and he tries to kick but nothing slows him down as the psychopath ties his hands together with a plastic handcuff. It digs into his skin more than necessary and the man frowns at it.

“Does it hurt?”

“This bullet bloody hurts,” he snaps.

The man doesn’t get mad but squints at Regulus’ face. He purses his lips to not spit in his face. With how clearly unstable he is, Regulus can’t afford to make him mad. Sirius will save him without any doubt so he needs to stay alive until he gets there. His leg is bleeding and he doubts he has enough strength to run and even less outrun him.

“You shouldn’t speak like that. It’s bad manners, probably because of your brother,” he complains with a distressed look as he grabs his face. Regulus tries to shake it off. “Your brother has a big mouth, full of sins and depravity, but I will cure him. As long as he gets to eat in another way, he won’t need his mouth again. I will sew it shut until he behaves.”

Regulus’ eyes widen as the panic smothers him at his words. The man must have taken his steeliness as a good sign because he coes.

“But you’re my favourite Regulus. You have always been. I will love you now and forever. We can be a big family too. I know you’ve been missing your parents but we can bring them back. I have everything ready for it.” He tilts Regulus’ face, roughly stroking his cheeks before frowning. “You have lost your smile.”

Regulus tries to count his breathing to not completely lose it. Maybe he shouldn’t have contacted Sirius - his call doesn’t seem to worry the mad man. He has a gun. Sirius doesn’t. His brother is brazen and probably won’t think twice before coming here once he tracks the phone. He could do that blind, fingers flying over any laptop, but he will get caught and even he isn’t stupid enough to go against a gun. If he is ready to do some weird ritual to bring back their parents then he probably won’t hesitate to kill Sirius with the stupid hope to bring him back after.

Two fingers probe at him and he needs a second before realising that his lips are painted on. One of the man’s palms is cut open, bleeding, and he dips his fingers back in there before spreading it over Regulus’ face.

“Even as a child you never smiled,” he whispers, staring at him with half-lidded eyes. “I kept wondering— how would you look with one? You’re just so pretty, doll.”

It’s a kick in the gut and Regulus opts to return the favour as hard as he can. The adrenaline crams within him but he doesn’t care anymore. Breathing is not important when this psychopath has dressed him up like some kind of virgin and calls him doll. He doesn’t know where he is going with that but he immediately reaches out for the knife while the man wheezes and coughs with his hands around his throat. Regulus’ leg tugs at his nerves and he misses his chance at grabbing the knife by the sudden stumble.

He stops thinking and shouts when he is grabbed by his hair. With his thrashing and kicking, smashing with his tied hands, he manages to make the man fall along with him but he is still more clear-minded and quickly crushes Regulus to the ground.

“Why are you fighting back?! I’m giving you everything!” He screams and starts crying to Regulus’ despair. “I’m taking care of you! Didn’t you like my gifts?!”

“Let me go,” he seethes and tries to push him away. He is flipped on his back and the man sits on him, right in a spot that makes his leg bleed out worse. “Get off of me!”

“If you could look at you, you would understand,” he declares. “You must be hungry.”

Regulus’s eyes widen at the bleeding palm hovering over his mouth. He painfully purses his lips at the drops and punches him with his tangled hands, trying to hold him back. The pervert fights back, managing to stick his palm against his mouth but Regulus keeps his lips shut despite the pressure and the smell of the blood.

“We are made for each other love, you will get better if y-”

He throws his head forward as hard as he can. “Shit,” he groans out in pain as he feels the pain ricocheting through his skull.

By the moans and how the man fell, he definitely broke his nose, stumbling off Regulus to cradle his face. His leg aches too much and his stomach is ready to hurl but he pushes himself to stay focused. He notices how one hand full of blood drifts toward his gun. Putting all his strength into his good leg, he rams into the mad man as hard as he can to make him let go of it.

It’s enough to make the man tip over the edge of the pit but he grabs onto Regulus’ shirt, bringing him down too. He tries to save himself but his hands are tied with nothing to hold on and his wounded leg has finally given out.

They land on the numerous corpses, grunting in pain at the bones as the blood gushes out. The gun flew out of his hand but Regulus can’t spot where it is in his haste and his focus quickly comes back to the man rising and reaching out for him with a cry of fury.

Regulus is pushed down on his back, crying in pain at the bones digging into him, and hands fall on his throat. He wheezes at the pain as his hand scrambles for something, anything, that could get him out of this. His grip lands on something, stuck, and Regulus jerks it as hard as he can into the madman’s head.

The rain reaches out like an odd balm. This time it’s not blood like the one that fell from the psychopath when the loose rib stabbed through his throat. Some got into his eyes and ever since then he kept them closed.

The fresh water trickling down his face doesn’t soothe. Regulus considers that he is dead as he can’t feel anything outside from the crushing pressure on him. He is close to drowning and his ears are gasping around the icy liquid.

His eyes open to find the hole in the roof when he hears the regular bangs. He tries to get rid of the dead weight on him when a louder smash rattle throughout the church. His body shakes at the effort but can’t manage to get off the fresh death of him. It feels like he is floating and the blood fills him. The wound in his leg is definitely getting infected.

The familiar rumble of a motorcycle breaks him of his daze and Regulus takes a deep breath. It can only be one person.

“Sirius!” He shouts as loud as he can.

“Regulus!”

Regulus blinks up, surprised, before finally noticing James standing above him.

“James?”

“Oh God,” he blurts out, eyes wide and still on Regulus while the rest of him is completely dishevelled. “Reg’!” He doesn’t seem to realise what is in the pit because he jumps in it. Regulus watches him rush to him with no care for everything else. “Shit, are you alright?!”

His eyes burn but he tries to not cry. “I’m fine,” he croaks out.

James pushes the dead body off of him and falls to his knees to have a closer look at him. He cautiously cradles his face with his hands, eyes looking ready to cry.

“Are you hurt anywhere? Bloody hell, did he do something?”

There are more noises rising around them, one voice screams sounding awfully like Sirius, and Regulus catches some lights travelling above them. He is definitely losing consciousness.

“He shot me in the leg,” he articulates and James immediately looks at it but it’s probably drenched in blood and offers no view. “Just get me out of here please.”

“Of course, Reggie,” he stutters with a forced smile. “Just stay with me, alright? Please.” James shakes but hugs him firmly against his chest as he tries to adjust his grip on him.

It’s comforting and despite hearing him loud and clear, Regulus can’t help but let himself go. He hisses in pain and James immediately tries to move him another way. They barely move before something else falls down in the pit.

“Stop him!”

“Hey!”

Regulus jerks at Sirius’ voice and the ruckus above them. James holds Regulus up until Sirius punches him, leaving him with no support.

“Sirius!” He shouts the best he can as Sirius and James start to wrestle. “Sirius, stop! It’s not him!”

Sirius swirls to take a look at Regulus, fist tight and raised, with one of James’ hands almost in his eye. Regulus gestures at the man James pushed off of him and he finally relaxes his stance.

“Holy shit Reggie,” he gasps out, letting go of James who is relieved and quickly sits up with a hand touching his left eye, as he jumps on him to crush him in a hug.

“You’re hurting me, you moron,” he groans out but lets his head fall on his shoulder, feeling the leather jacket.

“We’re fine!” James exclaims, hastily retrieving his glasses to clean them up, to the several people around the pit. One flashlight drifts over all of them and Regulus is shocked to see his left eye red and starting to swell.

“Are you alright?” Sirius asks, close to crying by how wobbly his tone is and it starts to get to Regulus. “What did this creep do? What’s that on your face?”

“Probably his blood that he painted on me— shit Sirius,” he hisses when he starts to rub at it. “Just get me out of here before my leg gets more infected.”

“Holy shit, what the bloody hell is this?!” He shrieks when he finally takes in where they are.

James hurries to them when Sirius tries to stand up and carry Regulus, swooping in to also

take a hold of him. He tries to not blush because it’s almost a bridal carry if Sirius ever lets go of him. The three of them are drenched in blood, which Sirius has yet to realise because he will surely scream about the state of his clothes and his precious leather jacket the second his brain wears off the adrenaline. Regulus finds himself coming down from his ups and downs rather quickly, head falling against a shoulder.

“Sorry about your eye, by the way,” Sirius says, “thought you were the pervert.”

James laughs, chest rumbling against Regulus, even if his left eye stays mostly closed after each blink. “It’s fine. To be fair, I wouldn’t have asked either.”

“Get me out,” Regulus mutters, eyes closed, as all his effort is put in his snapping tone.

“You should have told him that the whole dressing up as a virgin is too late for you Reggie,” Sirius teases.

“This psychopath actually told me you’re a bad influence on me,” he snipes back.

“Careful down here! We are bringing the ladder!”

He is a bit jostled and someone walks through the pit because of the noise. With a last burst of strength, Regulus opens his eyes to realise James is carrying him by himself and is watching Sirius walk toward the psychopath with the bone sticking out of his neck. His brother does what Regulus can’t, kicking him right in the head before turning him on his back with his foot and stepping with all his weight on his dick. It clearly doesn’t satisfy him and Regulus hopes that he doesn’t see the altar dedicated to them. Sirius’ attention is quickly moved away from his vengeance to the sight of the two skeletons dressed in white.

“Alright there?” James whispers, nose brushing against Regulus’ temple as a clumsy hand tries to keep his hold and reaches out to softly wipe his cheek.

He can’t swallow down the tears at the relief and the warmth. His leg feels dead but he ignores it to let his head snuggle against James’ wide chest.

“I’m fine… How did you find me?”

“Er, well I dropped by your place. And you weren’t there but your car was still in the parking lot. Your phone, keys and everything were still in there, but I only came in after calling Pandora who told me where you hid your spare key” he hastily explains and clears his throat. “I figured something happened to you so I tried all your friends. Your brother’s, er, boyfriend? I think. He called the police to tell them that you were kidnapped and that your brother apparently had an idea of where you were.”

“I called him,” he slurs as he feels his eyes dropping. “Why… did you stop by mine?”

James snorts and cautiously tightens his grip. “Couldn’t figure out if you were really mad at me. I wanted to drop by some chocolate since you mentioned- ”

“Forget about that.” Regulus really wishes he had the strength to hug back. “Ja-”

“Reggie,” Sirius cuts, his voice odd enough for him to actually pay attention. “Is this really what I think it is?”

James turns a bit for them to have a better view of his brother staring down at the dressed up skeletons. Regulus clears his throat and feels James’ fingers brushing over his neck.

“Dressed like our parents, yes,” he manages to say. “Talked about being a family, bringing them back.”

Sirius gags, hurrying back to them. “Where is this fucking ladder?!” He screams and tries to retrieve Regulus in his arms.

“Hey careful-”

“Get us out of here!” Sirius barks over James’ complain. “Who the fuck are you anyway?”

“Shut up,” Regulus hisses before he can’t reply.

His brother is definitely going to stick to his side for weeks. One of them is definitely going to die because Regulus won’t survive his pampering and over-protectiveness.

“Sirius. Calm down for God’s sake.”

James thankfully still has a hold on Regulus because Sirius spins on his spot to look above them at the disapproving face, slightly sick though, but the sight around him clearly makes him sick.

“Remus?! What are-”

“Did you really think I would just forget you telling me that a psycho got your brother as you tried to put back your pants on?” Remus scoffs, side-stepping when two people rush to the edge with a step-ladder. “I called the cops but I figured you might do something crazy.”

“He punched me.”

“Shut up,” Sirius hisses at James.

“I saw. You’re the second one he punched,” Remus dryly comments.

“Just get me out of here please.”

#hp marauders #regulus black #marauders #sirius black #starchaser #jegulus #remus lupin #wolfstar #myriadparacosm #writing #one shot #marauders au #horror

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ronin-deactivated19851026 · 1 year ago

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i feel like my brainworms are legit nerfing me

oversharing ahead but i honestly don't care nor see this as a big deal. what's the point of living if i can't talk about my life

i'm not sure what to do about it... one thing they don't warn about when it comes to recovery, you kind of go "backwards" in your timeline, unfolding deeper and deeper traumas. this leads to addressing needs that for most healthy individuals have been satisfied during appropriate stages of development. and it's kind of hard to navigate through, and the deeper into childhood, the harder. and the dumber some issues are.

like...

i identified one of major sources of my art block through noticing the same pattern while learning japanese. i have an exam next month, and i'm sitting here just clowning around, avoiding touching my workbooks. i don't have any struggles learning it. in fact, i'm catching things quickly and if i practiced, i would have been better. but i just can't make myself study, and the block is so strong, it's paralyzing me the same way my art does.

why learn or do anything, if 1. there are people who are better at it, from those who studied better to native speakers, or in case with art, are more creative and have been going to art school since they fell out of the womb 2. i get nothing from it, no praise, no attention, nothing. no change in attitude towards me (this phrasing suits better, considering what i'm about to say next)

and one can think of bajillion things to debunk these points. like, who the fuck cares, do what you like, engage in things that make you happy, also learning skills or expressing oneself through art doesn't render "nothing" as a result, like, it's obvious how both can be monetized, if we're going for "practical" needs, and how many other opportunities await me that can broaden horizons and enrich my existence.

but... but.

the entity we're trying to tell these things isn't the current, conscious mind of 30 year old me.

it's an ostracized, bullied, weird tween that seems to be doing good at school, where the kid finds escapism from issues at home. the kid is called a goddamn little genius at first, but eventually it all becomes boring or doesn't go in line with school program, it's annoying, the kid is fucking annoying too, can't come up with anything useful or worthy everyone's time. so the kid scribbles random shit to escape or vent about both school and home life. or just embraces art. and hey, looks like these skills are cool and complex enough to catch everyone's attention once again and be the cool artist daughter/cousin/friend/whatever i was called to have, i'm considered talented and useful again. for a while. didn't last long because it's all still essentially useless. aaaaaaaaaaaaaa help

(ok random cringy note but i have been thinking recently how fandom often draws spamton the way i used to dress in my mid teens; the time when every bit of hope or resemblance of peace in my life crashed beyond retrieve. he's my spirit animal now)

like. words and lack of full background (which i won't go into in public obviously sjxjskxsxj) can't really explain why something that doesn't sound like a big deal as i type it left such a huge impact on me. my life at home was like a pure nightmare at some point, and came with serious baggage i still yet to unpack. my life at school sucked a lot, except for two years where i switched schools and it brought some relief, albeit temporarily. there were days where i would spend a whole night up, being on full alert for any random reason, including physically fighting or eavesdropping every noise i can hear behind my door, hoping i won't get stabbed or raped in my sleep. that's why i have issues sleeping these days and wake up from every tiny fucking noise. and after that, i would go to school and say i literally couldn't do my homework and none of these fuckheads cared, they called me useless, lazy, and threatened with consequences. yeah, "being useful" became tied close to "having a right to live" because of all the fucking mess that went on, the puzzle is coming together.

as i was reading pete walker's book "complex ptsd: from surviving to thriving", bits about describing traumatized children growing into completely dysfunctional adults, to the point where they're on disability and literally can't function at all, i thought about how i essentially sabotaged myself through thing i described above.

if i didn't deliberately ruin everything, i may have had a network of artists at this point, probably opportunities that i can't even think of, stable income, probably also a stable community, but i just dipped right when i was getting more and more interesting commission requests, getting more known, merch being done with my art, people being interested in my stuff, getting some cool opportunities, some of which were even about to spread outside fandom circles...

that hole of void inside, that feeling of uselessness and not being enough, has been growing (along with other issues i had, but still) until it burst and i was avoiding it all like plague, saying "no" to everyone who came to me until they stopped coming, obsessing over being the lamest artist featured everywhere, being afraid to create because it felt like i'm ruining paper/canvas/digital spaces/etc with my essence, that i'm not allowed to make myself present in anyone's life, unless i earned that right through being "useful", and even then i still experienced paranoia and severe anger issues and so, so, so many other things that led me to be diagnosed with a mood disorder, a personality disorder, and then put on antipsychotics and antidepressants.

...

you know, now that i'm typing this all out, i'm thinking that this made it all even worse. i'm even more scared of approaching these issues, because now they have a "take a pill and shut up" layer to it. "you're born useless and don't have a place among us, sedate yourself so you stop being a nuisance to everyone". "no, the world is completely fine, you're the broken one". "normal people live fine with X and Y, you're just crazy, delusional, sick, yOuR BraIn ChEmIcAlS ArE OfF meNtAL iLLness Is WHen Ur BraIn Is BrokeN1!1 MentAl DisorDers ExisT In VacUuM U jUsT WeRe BorN MenThollY EEL TAKE THIS COCKTAIL OF DANGEROUS DRUGS WITH A BUNCH OF SIDE EFFECTS THAT WILL KILL THE REST OF YOUR MIND!!111"

i have no idea in the fucking slightest what to do. i'm doing much, much better than ever. i could even say, i'm very close to being normal, at least in the way i define it. but everything that has to do with vague definition of occupation, hobby, and collective/community? i'm kinda just brute forcing things as of now, idk.

but i don't think i can push it this way for long, cuz... progress in my skills doesn't heal. using a new language doesn't heal. finishing projects, no matter how fun or cool, doesn't heal. getting praised for these doesn't heal. getting paid for my art (or anything at all in theory) doesn't heal. socializing doesn't heal, i just do it in spite of lil demon behind my shoulder constantly whispering me that i'm everyone's laughing stock/annoyance/whatever and everyone i'm interested in wants me away. having some people prove these delusions to me in the past few years didn't help either.

maybe i'll come to solution later, as i always do, but as of now... i'm stuck and i don't know where to start

#ronin.txt #venting #? i guess #it's more of a processing #and typing things out so i could work on them better ig #long post #lmao #also you know what imma tag this with #anti psychiatry #because why the fuck not

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fletchfeathers · 1 year ago

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blorboposting ahoy bc this is too long for twitter but AAAAAAAAAA i am going insane over phoenix and i need to just spill my brainworms lol

obviously i'm not expecting anyone to read this esp if you're not in the campaign but if y'all want some came-back-wrong soup i gotchu

so for brief, brief context in case anyone who isn't blaze or dany reads this lmao: phoenix in this game is a Literal Phoenix, who reincarnates after an unspecified amount of time each time he dies; he's extremely New to his current life and still kind of regaining his old powers and memories and whatnot and we've been really delving into that in the game and it's been such good soup, bc in his past life he was a Conquest Paladin and a Champion of Tiamat and an absolute destructive violent force and phoenix now is a small, shy, doing-his-best sorcerer that couldn't be more different to The Firebird he used to be

and yeah i just . i'm so obsessed with this narrative thread that's forming after going back through his memories and confronting his Literal Past Self in a huge fight - a past self that was (is) like ... both a terrifying, extremely powerful warrior and a force of nature unto himself, but also very much A Very Morally Grey person where phoenix now is trying so, so hard to be as good as he's capable of being - and having that past self loathe what he became and be actively trying to kill him before phoenix could talk him down

but also having the knowledge/memories of that past self being the version that his husband fell in love with, that his red dragon found family still loves and misses, that basically was responsible for everything he has - or y'know at least everything he thought he had, because now he isn't sure if he's taking something that was never his from this person

and phoenix being just so lost in those feelings of like. yes i am the version of you that exists now. i am so different and so much less in so many ways, and i don't remember all these people that seem to remember us so fondly, and you left such an unbelievably vast legacy to fill that i don't know if i can live up to, and i am terrified of you because you being part of me means i am completely capable of doing all of those terrible things you did when left unchecked, that the world is so incredibly fucked because of you but also because of me even though i only just remember doing any of it, and i can tell that all these people i have come to love and cherish are yearning for that version of me that ... well, didn't exist, but now does, again, for me to actively witness being adored by them, and feeling like i am the ghost here and not the one whose soul was ripped back out of the afterlife to be sent on a vengenace quest to destroy my current self by the Campaign's Current Big Bad

and i can't deal it's so fucking good i can't wait to see where it goes and how it resolves in the end i'm. oughghgoghfuhgdhuihagfjklfjsd chews the paint off the waaaaaalls

#personal #dnd posting #blorboposting #phoenix cole

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bestworstcase · 3 years ago

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Think she assumes he's waiting until he feels he's done enough for humanity's redemption and calls down the Gods, which she doesn't want success or fail, and if my brainworms are right Salem's grand goal for having all the Relics is to, sit on them so no one else can put them together. Like Ozpin. Because both of them thinks the other is gonna end the world and Salem is going around terrorizing the world because that's her best idea for making sure Ozpin never believes he's achieved the terms.

oh i’m 100% certain salem believes ozma is still trying to fulfill the divine mandate and is debasing himself in service to the gods generally; there’s also no doubt in my mind that salem thinks there is zero chance under any circumstances that the gods will rule in humanity’s favor, because she knows exactly what the brothers are like. so while it’s clear that this level of destruction is new for her—ozma wouldn’t have been able to keep her a secret if she was knocking kingdoms down on the regular—i assume she’s been fucking with every significant peace he’s been able to cobble together so as to prevent him from ever deciding humankind is sufficiently united to bring the relics together.

but the impression i get is that salem thinks ozma has A PLAN, not in the nebulous sense of “summon gods once unity is achieved” but a specific series of actions that he has prepared and is executing, or his followers are executing on his behalf, right now. which he does, sort of, in the most general sense of “keep the relics locked up” but—she obviously thinks there’s something more complicated afoot. (4.3 she hears from summer rose her mystery lieutenant and seems to be concerned that 1. ozpin might have survived or 2. the crown might not be at beacon; the last thing she says in that scene is a puzzled “what are you planning?” like—her perspective of this conflict is that ozpin has an agenda she is trying to figure out and get ahead of, and she’s wrong because we know he has no plan? but this fascinates me bc it suggests salem has a fundamentally different understanding of what she’s doing than the heroes do.)

anyway,

if all salem wanted was to make it impossible for ozma—or anyone—to summon the gods, all she’d need to do is get one and bury it somewhere. she doesn’t need all four. ozma went after all four because 1. he did in fact intend to see his task through, which meant he planned on triggering judgment day eventually, 2. he thought he might be able to use them to destroy salem, and 3. he didn’t want other people misusing them. the latter two are of no relevance to salem, and she could foil the first objective merely by securing one of the three; that she self-evidently IS going for more than one suggests that she is in fact planning to use them—either the relics themselves, or by putting them together to summon the gods.

personally? i think she’s still on the defeat-and-usurp-the-gods plan, and she’s making her move now because she thinks she’s found a viable way to do it. the relics are bait to get them to come back so she can kill them—or whatever it is specifically she plans on doing. (though i’m not yet ruling out the possibility that the gods are already returning and salem 1. knows about it and 2. assumes ozpin summoned them on purpose; it’s been shown that magic—the staff—can’t just blink stuff from point a to point b, there’s travel involved, so a divine return across astronomical distances could very well take a significant amount of time!)

i don’t think she would ever be satisfied just keeping one or all of the relics and staying in this holding pattern; she’s not like ozma. the core of her character is relentless and increasingly desperate efforts to free herself—first from her father, then from the tyrannical gods and the torment they’ve inflicted on her. by necessity immortality has made her very patient and methodical but whatever her intentions might be specifically, they’re definitely moving forward towards a goal of change; “and so we must press on.” etc etc

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davidmann95 · 3 years ago

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Sooo… Superman and the Authority?

magnus-king123 asked: Your thoughts on Superman & the authority Give it to me...lol

Anonymous asked: Seeing Bezos take his little trip into space the same day Morrison puts out a Superman comic that touches on how far we’ve fallen from the days when we dreamed of utopian futures where everyone explored the stars was a big gut punch. Not used to Superman being topical in that way.

Anonymous asked: What'd you think of Superman and the Authority#1?

This is far beyond what I can fit in the normal weekly reviews, so taking this as my notes on the first six pages, with this and this as my major lead-in thoughts:

* Janin's such a perfect fit for Morrison - the scale, the power, the facial expressions selling the character work, the screwing around with the panel formatting as necessary to sell the effect, the numinous sense of things going on larger than you can fully perceive amidst the beauty and chaos. It's a shame he wasn't around 25 years ago to draw JLA, but I'll take him going with Morrison onto other future projects.

* His intro action sequence is such a great demonstration of why Black actually does have something to offer, and also how he's such a dumbass desperately needing Superman to save him from himself.

* While Jordie Bellaire didn't legit go with an entirely monochromatic palate the way early previews suggested, it's still an effect frequently and excellently deployed here. And glad to see Steve Wands carry into this from Blackstars since there's such an obvious carryover from its work with Superman.

* "Gentlemen. Ladies. Others." Great both because of the obvious - hey, Superman's nodding at me! - and because it's a phrasing that reinforces that this take on him (and let's be real Morrison) is old as hell.

* I'm mostly past caring about whether this is an alt-Earth Superman until it becomes indisputable one way or another, this and Action both rule so what does it really matter? But while there are still a couple signs in play suggesting some kind of division (the Action Comics #1036 cover, Midnighter up to time-travel shenanigans) the "lost in time" quote clearly thrown in after the fact to explain how he could have met Kennedy outside of 5G that wouldn't be necessary for an Elseworlds, the assorted gestures towards Superman's current status quo, the Kingdom Come symbol appearing in Action, and that Morrison would have had to completely rewrite the ending if this wasn't supposed to be 'the' version of Clark Kent going forward as was the intent when they first planned it all say to me that no, no fooling around, this is our guy going forward one way or another.

* Janin and Bellaire making the first version of the crystal Fortress ever that actually looks as cool as you want it to.

Anonymous asked: I like that Superman and The Authority is basically the anti-All-Star; instead of the laid back, immortal Superman who is supercharged, we have a stressed, ageing Superman whose tremendous powers are fading. The former will always be there to save us, but the latter is running out of time and needs to pull off a Hail Mary. Also, he mentions in his monologue to Black that he was "lost in time" when he met JFK, so maybe he is the main continuity Clark. Or he's the t-shirt Supes from Sideways.

* You're absolutely right - the power reversal is obvious and the ticking clock in play seemingly isn't for his own survival but everyone around him as he wakes up and realizes all the old icons grew complacent with the gains they'd made and he's not leaving behind the world he meant to. Both, however, are built on the idea of preparing the world to not need them anymore - it'll still have a Superman in his son, but that'll only work because of the others he empowers and inspires. The question is what happens to Clark if he's not going to live in the sun for 83000 years.

* Clark's 'exercise' here does more to sell me on the idea of Old Man Superman as a cool idea than however many decades of Earth 2 stuff.

* Intergang being noted alongside Darkseid and Doomsday speaks to how much Kirby informed Morrison's conception of Superman.

* This isn't exactly the most progressive in its disability politics but at least it makes clear Black's being a piece of shit about it.

* It's startling how much Clark can get away with saying stuff in here you'd never expect to come out of Superman's mouth. "I made an executive decision" "Privacy, really...?" "You have nowhere to go, Black. Nothing to live for." "There are few people in my life who I instinctively and viscerally dislike, and you've always been one of them." It only works because there's zero aggression behind it, he's just past the point of niceties and being totally frank while making clear none of these assessments preclude that he cares and is going to unconditionally do the right thing every time. He is absolutely, per Morrison, humanity's dad picking us up when we're too drunk to drive ourselves home.

* The story doesn't put a big flashing light over it, but it's not even a little bit subtle having the material threat of the issue be a ticking timebomb left by the carelessness and hubris of generations past.

* Manchester keeps trying to poke the bear and prove his hot takes about Superman and it's just not working. The front he put up under Kelley is gone after decades of defeats, and as Morrison understands what actually conceptually works about him as a rival to Superman underneath the aging nerd paranoia he's exposed as what he absolutely would be in 2021: a dude with a horrific terminal case of Twitter brainworms. I was PANICKED when I heard there was an 'offensive term' joke in this, I was braced for Morrison at their well-meaning worst, but it's such a goddamn perfect encapsulation of a very specific breed of Twitter leftist who uses their politics first and foremost as a cudgel and justification to label their abrasive, judgmental shittiness as self-righteousness (plus it's a killer payoff to a joke from way back in his original appearance). Cannot believe they pulled that off when they're so very, very open about basically not knowing how the internet works.

* @charlottefinn: Manchester Black using his telekinetic powers to force someone he hates to fave a problematic tweet so that he can screenshot it and start a dogpile

@intergalactic-zoo: “Once they cancel Bibbo, Superman won’t be *anyone’s* fav’rit anymore!”

* Friend noted this issue had to be fully the conversation because the whole premise stands on the house of cards of these two somehow working together, and with three 'silent' inset panels the creative team pulls off that turning point.

* So much of this feels on the surface like Morrison bringing back the All-Star vibes with Clark, but when he drops a "That's all you got?" in a brawl you realize what's underlining that bluntness and confidence in the face of failure is that deep down this is still the Action guy too. This dude ain't gonna get wrecked in his Fortress while the other guy chuckles about him being A SOFT WEE SCIENTIST'S SON!

* Bringing up Jor-El made me realize that Morrison already spelled out that this is the final threat to Superman, what he faces at the end of the road:

"Now it's your turn, Superman."

* A l'il Superman 2000/All-Star reference with the Phantom Zone map!

* There's so much intertextuality going on here even by Morrison standards - Change or Die with the old hero putting together a team of morally nebulous folks out to 'fix' everything, Flex Mentallo with the muscleman trying to redeem the punk, Doomsday Clock with the fate of the world hinging on whether Superman can get through to a meta stand-in for an idea of 'modern' comics cynicism, DKR and New Frontier and Kingdom Come and Multiversity and Seven Soldiers and What's So Funny and All-Star and Action and the last 5 years of monthly Superman comics and Authority and probably Jupiter's Legacy and Tom Strong - but none of that's needed. You could go in with the baseline pop cultural understanding of the character and not care about any of the inside baseball shit and get that this is a story about a leader of a generation that let down the people they made all their grand promises to as inertia and day-to-day demands and complacency let him be satisfied with the accomplishments they'd made long ago, looking at a new era and seeing the ways its own activists are dropping the ball. The only thing that fundamentally matters in a "you have to accept you're reading a superhero story" sense is that because he's Superman he's willing to own up to it and listen to people who might know better about some things and try to set things right while he and those who'll take his place still have a chance. And yes, the oldster looking back on their legacy with a skeptical eye and hoping for better from the next generation, hoping most of all that their little heir apparent can fulfill the promise inside of him instead of being a provocating little shitkicker, is obviously also autobiographical.

* The overlaying Kennedy reprisal is such a great visual of a sudden intrusive thought.

* The Kryptonite secret is the obvious "This is going to matter!" moment, but "He lied about his son" is a bit that doesn't connect to anything going on right now so maybe that's important here too? More significantly, the Justice League can't actually be the villains here but that Ultra-Humanite's crew are in an Earth-orbiting satellite makes pretty clear what's up.

* I've said before that between Superman, OMAC, and a New Gods-affiliated speedster this was going to use all of Morrison's favorite things. King Arthur playing a role isn't exactly dissuading me.

* Love the idea that all the antiheroes have their own community in the same way as the capes and tights crew. They definitely all privately think the rest are posers though and that they alone are Garth Ennis Punisher in a mob of Garth Ennis Wolverines.

* Manchester's fallen so far he's gone from trying to convince Superman to kill to convince him to dunk on people for their bad takes and Clark just doesn't get it. Official prediction of dialogue for upcoming issues:

"According to these bloody Fortress scans, the only thing that can restore your powers is an unfiltered hit of dopamine. Don't worry, Doctor Black has a few ideas."

"Hmm. Maybe I'll plant a nice tree?"

"...fuck you."

* Ok I already talked about how great the Fortress looks in here but LOVE this library.

* A pair of pages this seems like the right spot to discuss from Black's original appearance that underlines both his and Superman's inadequacies up to this point:

Responding to the problem of "the government and penal system are hopelessly corrupt" neither of them has any actual notion of what to do about it in spite of their respective posturing beyond how to handle individual outside actors - each is in their own way every bit as small-minded and reactionary as the other. Clark's coming around though, and he's holding out hope for the other guy.

* Superman: Have a lovely mineral water :) proper hydration is important :)

Manchester Black: *Is a dude who can get so mad he vomits and passes out. At water.*

* That last page is the one to beat for the year, and does more to put over the idea of this as an Authority book than that Midnighter and Apollo are literally going to show up. It also feels like Morrison tacitly acknowledging all the ways the premise could go or at least be received wrong - from Superman saying 'enough is enough' to who he's bringing into the fold to go about it - in the most beautifully on-the-nose fashion imaginable. Maybe they'll save us all! Or maybe they'll drown us in their vomit.

#Superman and The Authority #Superman #The Authority #Manchester Black #Grant Morrison #Mikel Janin #Jordie Bellaire #Steve Wands #Opinion

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felikatze · 3 years ago

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give me the a brainworms i am deeply invested in this man

(0) (2) (3) (4)

okay first of all you asked for this. second of all if i am a little off track from the game that is explained by me just building thoughts like building blocks without looking back. third i was supposed to be studying for an exam but this counts as practice right? it's character analysis anyway lmao.

buckle the fuck up, my dearest anon, because I have sub headings.

1. A as the Player Character

Let me begin with why I am obsessed with this horrid little guy in the first place: he's a silent protagonist. I am always obsessed with protagonists. It's a law of nature. I love taking hollow characters and dissecting them for scraps. It's a long standing practice of mine.

Being a silent protagonist, A, as X, does not have a set personality. However, there are patterns. Firstly, as any semi-silent protagonist, A is a reactive character. He does not start incidents, he only responds to situations, presented by the Sephirah, as they arise. He does not actively seek out new information, merely going about the routine of expanding departments, but expresses curiosity when information is presented to him.

I'm aware fandom likes to characterize X and A differently, likely because they are initially presented as different characters. I, on the other hand, would like to pose the theory that they are more similar than expected.

I believe that A is also a reactive character, rather than active. Despite the fandom wiki describing him as stubborn, the goal A pursues with such fervor, the completion of the Seed of Light, is not actually a goal he set for himself. Carmen is the one who set this goal for him by leaving him her legacy.

Throughout the backstory we get relating to the Cogito Project, A is Carmen's assistant, whereas Carmen is the driving researcher. This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be; going with the flow of goals set for them by superiors. Yes I will get into his attachment to Carmen later.

The above is not to say A isn't stubborn. Once he has accepted a goal as his own, he will pursue it at all costs, as is obvious from any and all flashbacks leading to horrible deaths. But the point isn't his pursuit of the goal, but where that goal comes from. Even Lobcorp itself supports this, despite what Hokma may say; A as X follows the "simple" task of managing the Corp's day to day activities, and executes any mission given to him by the Sephirah. He outranks them, and doesn't actually need to do their missions, but does so anyway. Players are driven by the reward offered by those missions, of course, and A might be the same in that regard. Nonetheless, at no point in gameplay do you do anything somebody else hasn't told you to.

The overarching narrative of the Script would be the most obvious example. Every single person in the game follows the script, whether they know it or not.

Lastly on this note, a phrase we hear attributed to A, "Machines must behave as machines." Now, Angela may be attached to this phrase because it bears significance to herself as a machine, and informs most of A's unjust treatmeant of her. However, what if it doesn't just apply to machines? The phrase reads as such, "Everyone must act according to their own role."

2. A, Carmen, and the disease of the mind

So, A will at any cost pursue goals Carmen set for him. Question is, why? The obvious answer would be saying he's in love with her, which like, true. But also, how did Carmen come to be so precious to him?

Let us return to the comparison, "This is how many of the City's inhabitants seem to be." We don't really know why exactly most characters joined Carmen, excluding mainly Daniel and Benjamin. But this does not mean we can't have theories.

Carmen's ideal was curing the "disease of the mind." What is the disease? Complete hopelessness. The inability to form aspirations and dreams, to think of a better future. A is a very reactive character who does not set goals for himself. Therefore, I personally conclude, that initially, Carmen's ideology resonated with him because he could identify with the disease.

This is the point where I start rewatching Lobcorp story clips. Dear god.

So, by briefly binging day 27 onward, I've come up with lines that very much support this lil theory of mine:

First, from Carmen, a description of the disease, "People lock away their own potential."

Second, a line from Angela, after the memory synchronization, "You've locked yourself in this prison without bars."

Carmen describes A as humble, and Benjamin thinks he is warm. If I suppose A was one of the diseased initially, Carmen would be the catalyst for this change. Carmen was someone with big aspirations, with plans to heal what is wrong with the City, and it gave him hope. He was one of the diseased, but through time with Carmen, with that relentless optimistic spirit, he may have been cured, for a time. It's not a stretch to say that she was his light.

But lor shows us what happens when the seed of light sprouts wrong, doesn't it? It distorts. A grasped hope for the first time and then it is ruthlessly crushed. Carmen was everything. Yes, A is described as a jack-of-all-trades, as a genius in all pursuits he puts his mind to, but what does that matter in the face of someone who can unite people? Who can give them hope of a better world? Who can inspire them to actually use the talents they have?

And what kind of pressure is it to put the legacy of a messiah in the hands of the diseased?

3. A and the Perception Filter: A is weak to White damage

No, I am serious about that. He's extremely weak mentally. Obviously death of a loved one is a changing experience for absolutely anybody, but Carmen's death destroyed him.

Not only did he refuse to confide this grief to anyone and bottled it up, now everybody looked to him to lead the project, but he just isn't Carmen. He isn't an ambitious person, he doesn't have the same optimism, he can't bring people together, but people expected him to, and he failed. Hard.

While he was without a doubt talented in science, he was also just an average guy.

After her death, A grew to hate humans. He lost trust in them. He refused to confide in anyone, and be confided in by anyone. Thus, the team fell apart.

In both lobcorp and lor, we get interesting tidbits about precations taken to protect the manager.

Firstly, Lobcorp's perception filter. The cartoony art-style of the game is a result of the game being in first person. Through the eyes of the manager, everything is cartoony!

This is a measure undertaken to specifically protect the manager's psyche. Angela tells us that, before it was deployed, the manager would frequently go insane, one notable incident including the manager trying to hang himself. When we first hear this, the previous managers and X are still separate in our minds. However, they're all A! A went insane multiple times without it.

This is understandable, considering that employees also frequently go insane and try to kill both themselves and others. But they're there in action, confronting the Abnormalities directly. Just watching them made the manager go mad. They could not handle the responsibility for the employees' deaths.

In lor, Angela explains why she picked the Rabbit Team from R Corp as their main contractor instead of any other team. One team was simply too big for L Corp's narrow hallways, and the other team... dealt in psychic damage. It was simply too big of a risk for the manager. But the manager is always secure behind the cameras. Would that teams methods just be that brutal visually, or would their attacks have reached the manager?

Combined with his immense grief at all of his friends and coworkers dying in part because of him, A cannot bear to look at death.

4. A's greatest flaw: Avoidance

A common thread during Core Meltdown flashbacks: A refuses to look at suffering. He just can't. Whether it be looking away from Elijah writhing on the floor or hanging up on Daniel's panicked report of death.

This is actually the thing Angela takes the biggest issue with, and what hurt her most. A would never look at her, acknowledge her, and she did not understand why. But I think A did not refuse to look at her out of maliciousness. Rather, it was out of grief over Carmen. He could not look at her without being reminded of what he lost.

Angela's creation came about because A wanted someone to guide him, someone like Carmen. He threw himself into the project to the point it made Benjamin happy that A was passionate about anything again. But as soon as the project he distracted himself with is complete, he is filled with regret. Carmen cannot be replicated, and he breaks again.

Furthermore, tying this back to my first point about A being a reactive person, we see Angela take charge over A. She's the one recruiting employees and leading the business. It was likely a relief for him to be able to step down from the leading position.

But avoiding it made everything worse. He did not act when he saw Elijah's unchecked ambition, he did not act beyond a simple check at Gabriel's decay, he gave Giovanni the same hope he clung to to no avail, et cetera et cetera.

Avoiding his problems is making them worse and sending everything down the drain (including his psyche), so he deals with it the only way he knows how, avoiding them more!

Biggest example of A's big avoidance problem as his psyche crumbles: the memory wipe. A, in perhaps his one singular moment of acknowledging his emotions, recognizes that he is incapable of fulfilling the Script in his current state. His grief is just too much.

By erasing his own memory, he could start fresh without his grief, because he might've really killed himself otherwise. His suffering became bigger and bigger, and he coped by avoiding it.

The memory wipe allowed him to distangle his problems. Through his interactions with the Sephirah (which I will not individually detail for the sake of my sanity and because I dumped all this on a friend on discord already), he can deal with and actually process his issues one at a time.

As the motto describes, only by facing the fear can he build the future. Only by finally facing his grief and acknowleding it, seeing that the past cannot be changed and he has no choice to move forward, can he actually do so.

5. The Sephirah as ghosts

Lobotomy Corporation feels like a ghost story. I've touched upon this in my previous A post.

As you reach the Corp's lower levels, there are less Sephirah. First there are four. They act like normal employees, and do not breach into the story's underbelly until you reach their core supressions and the facade breaks. Second, counting Tiphereth as one, there are three. They still go about their duties, but they know what they are. Third, there are two, and the facade is gone. They know what they are, and they will tell you about the sins of the past.

And finally, you reach Keter, and there is only one.

This gradual decay of the facade is what really gets to me. I said that by interacting with the Sephirah, A deals with his issues one by one, but that's what the Sephirah are, in this case. Representations.

The people the Sephirah used to be are dead, and the Sephirah are their ghosts. The core supression involve putting these ghosts to rest. Doesn't it match the progression of a typical ghost story? Find the ghost, find what they used to be, and help them move on.

So, if everyone is a ghost, then A is alone.

But, behind the scenes, the Sephirah are still there. They are still people, and they have changed for the better, too. As always, A simply does not look.

(Does he even see the good others see in him? Does he look away from praise, too? Did he even realize Benjamin's admiration for him? Will we ever know?)

6. A's end.

A's progression of moving on would be fine and dandy if it did not end as thus: A does kill himself.

A sees himself beyond the point of no return. Everyone is dead. He is alone. Carmen is never coming back. He can't call it quits now, or else everything has been in vain. (Even if the last days show us a part of him wants to just quit, so badly.)

So, there's only one thing left to do: follow the Script to its ending. Fulfill Carmen's legacy at all costs. Death as the ultimate release.

This is the point where I admit I do not like the death as release trope. But the game does a good enough job as presenting it as the only option A had, or the only option he saw himself as having.

However, I've mentioned it before, I'll mention it again: A was not alone. Death was his release, but he left wreckage. In order to end his own suffering, he inflicted the same pain he went through on others.

Throughout the game, he moves on and pushes through. The ending shows that in reality... he didn't.

At least in lor the characters stick together and help each other heal.

This has been most of my thoughts on A, amounting to my longest analysis post ever, having taken me approximately two and a half hours to complete, and clocking in at 2337 words including up to this paragraph.

Thank you anon for giving me the incentive to verbalize all of this, so I can finally be at ease having inflicted my thoughts on everybody else.

#Feli gets asked #lobotomy corporation #ayin #library of ruina #also i saw apparently another fandom besides lc uses the ayin tag which is just fun to watch honestly #many characters could rival this word vomit probably but as i said i already inflicted most of my thoughts abt netz on my good pal borgor #thank you borgor for dragging me back into projmoon stuff. also curse you terribly #long post #Feli speaks

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6okuto · 3 years ago

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Hello my beloved,,

Do we think that Rime was nice when he was.. alive in the right way? How do you think he would react to mc telling him that they wanted to ‘fix’ him so he could either move on in peace or get another chance at life?

Sorry that I am just adding to the Rime asks… I see that we have all got the same brain worms.

🪲

you guys can't keep giving me prompts that make me ramble about my thoughts on a character. /j if rime found out this many people had brainworms for him his ego would say "obviously" and simultaneously grow to unimaginable levels. also omg...nobody has ever said my beloved 2 Me before. this is new. hello . stands and gives u a thumbs up. peace sign. starts sweating.

first of all yes i do think rime was nice!! in the ch.11? scene with him i'm pretty sure mc notes something about realizing why people would respect and love him watching the moment of his death. smth about that

he was popular at the academy, captain of the starsworn, felix worked for years to bring him back for a reason. the tragedy of their romance aside,, you don't put that much effort and time into somebody that you didn't believe deserved it [stares at asra]

and felix's reaction and wariness is also evidence that rime definitely came back and wasn't what he expected

if you mentioned 'fixing' him or changing him i Rlly don't think he'd take it well fbdjhbjhb

the thought behind it. is a kind one. but mc would have to be very careful and really think about what rime wants. not what they want or personally think

like . telling him to try harder to be better is one thing because you realize his actions and what he was already trying to do. you're building on a seedling of development that he planted. when rime hesitates before leaving it's because mc caught him, not because he suddenly went "oh? morals? i never thought of this..." y'know??

the implication behind wanting to 'fix him' though would piss him off. why does he need fixing? it means you don't think he, as he is now, could ever find peace with it all. and whether that's true or not, whether he's suppressing his own realizations about what path he's going down, having you poke at it or anything remotely deep about him agitates rime

he thinks mc will never live up to him and now here they are telling him that he needs to change?? ok. what the hell do you know about me? nothing. (Quite Literally. stares at devs for content)

smth smth defence mechanism is denial and aggression smth smth

"you know rime, maybe if you were just less of an asshole we wouldn't have so many problems." walking on ice

"i think if you just...remembered who you were before all of this, it would make things easier. they looked up to you and felix—he loved you, didn't he? don't you ever want that back?" The ice is Breaking

"if you really want another chance or to move on, have you ever thought about, i don't know, fixing yourself?" Bitch,

he'd warn mc about staying out of his business and treading carefully with whatever else they were about to say

depending on how terribly mc executed their message he might get physically violent/threatening. blade to their throat kind of thing.

"fix me? what's there to fix, exactly, mc? you have a lot of nerve when i'm still above you,"

once he leaves he'd stay mad/petty about it and or think about what they said . because he isn't stupid or stubborn enough to ignore why they said it

especially if any of the starsworn agreed. IF FELIX AGREED . gn. i'm not manifesting this

it would just. put a huge ass dent in our mc rime relationship development for a while unless mc fixes it

rime being aggressive, meaner, less helpful, etc.

but. shrug. again mc was able to get to him in that ch.12 scene so if they keep doing that !! here we go rime frenemy arc!!!!

vry tangential and me rambling but it kinda reminds me of sage's development y'know? there's a core of them that's still there (teasing, witty, etc.) but because of their situations they went [BONK]. do you get me. yeah. real

but man i rlly love mc's characterization sometimes. the way they dealt w rime and telling him to get his shit together was so mwah chef's kiss like that is Fr the execution to have. not too nice not too mean and just playing on what he did ouagh

and srsly if there was ever an option to make mc say they wanted to fix him,, as someone who fears bad routes or hurting characters' feelings,, i think i'd shit my pants. #EMPATH #OLDMYSMESPLAYER

#🛒nia.reqs #last legacy #last legacy headcanons #last legacy rime #fictif rime #rime solano varela #rime varela #i want him!!#give him to me now!!

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incorrect-ikevamp-quotes · 4 years ago

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[SPOILERS FOR LEO’S ROUTE❗️] okay so i just got to the bit after leo reveals what he is, and mc and comte are talking on the balcony & comte offers to turn her into a vampire if she would like. obviously mc declines but i guess my question is, how do you think leonardo would react if mc DID agree to that offer? i am enjoying his route, but i kinda get the feeling he mostly/only loves mc because she is human :/ im interested abt what might happen if she didn’t say no? thank you v much💖💖ly lots

Aww, ily3 hun tyty 💕💕💕I’ll offer my thoughts below, I hope I can answer your questions to satisfaction!

Ah yes, the point in Leo's route where I essentially get shot in the leg and limp through my walk of shame

Jk jk, but I think there has been a considerable degree of displeasure associated with Leonardo's line in the proverbial sand. No life with him can be spent as a vampire, MC must remain human. Despite his easygoing nature, he remains stalwart in his opposition no matter what the MC or Comte has to say. To summarize it quickly, Comte’s relieved exasperation at the end of Leo’s MS gets more across than I think any of my analysis can convey “Thank heavens one of you has good sense.” It offers the implication that he has tried to broach the topic with Leonardo out of concern, only to be met by a brick wall--or doesn’t try at all for fear that he’ll only ensconce Leonardo further into rejecting a greater future for him and MC.

As to how he would react I......really don’t think it would go well? Only because I think it would serve to reinforce the rifts that already exist in Leonardo’s self-perception. He would believe it was his own fault for pushing her in that direction, and while I don’t think he would hate Comte, he would definitely become estranged from one of his only close friends in life. (What GUTS ME about Comte offering to turn MC is that he is probably well aware Leo might beat the shit out of him, never talk to him again, or both--and he still fully accepts that he could lose his best friend to guarantee a future for both of them. Excuse me while I bawl in the corner) He probably wouldn’t hold it against Comte for too long, but he wouldn’t be any less aggrieved and hurt. And when Leonardo is vulnerable, he will hide and nurse his wounds until he can behave with some level of calm--or at the very least until he can pretend he’s okay after an initial explosion. He doesn’t feel comfortable troubling people with his own problems, so he tends to fall into silence when personal things come up. This doesn’t necessarily mean he resolves all of his emotional turmoil, or heals that fast; it only means that he wallows in those feelings alone unless they’re tugged out of him and worked through forcibly.

Basically, I see only one of two possibilities coming to fruition. The first is that he and MC would wobble only to completely fall apart if some kind of resolution could never be found. He’d continue to blame himself and start sabotaging his own happiness, and that would likely mean some level of selfishness directed at MC--resulting in anguish for the both of them. If MC takes on too much without complaint or Leonardo goes too far...I get the feeling that relationship would either end in shambles immediately, or result in a kind of twisted union in which both feel responsible for the other’s hurt but neither one can relieve it (until they’d be forced to split up before someone gets seriously hurt). They would be the source of each other’s suffering, so much so that the walls climbing between them might never again lower.

This might sound odd, but if there’s one thing that Leonardo needs it’s control when it comes to his relationships with others. It is a subtle, but acute trait that might not seem obvious knowing his magnanimous disposition. He decides if MC gets to be a vampire, he bargains with Sebastian because he refuses to be a test subject, he refuses to validate Comte’s conclusions (despite knowing he’s right) because he doesn’t want to cede the power silence/smokescreens offer his emotional vulnerabilities. Even around villains like Shakespeare and the final serial killer, pay close attention. Shakespeare begins revealing deeply personal information and wishes that Leonardo holds close to his heart on purpose, snatching Leonardo’s agency and ability to control how his feelings are being conveyed. How does Leonardo respond? With explosive, forbidding anger--instantaneous and barely contained, nothing at all like his breezy attitude and calm.

If you think about it, it’s a fairly obvious extension of the humiliating powerlessness by which he was raised (he needs to be in control; he needs to be the one who decides who gets to walk away and who doesn’t. He doesn’t come on to MC because he wants to, he does it for the sole purpose of scaring her out of wanting to be a vampire. He doesn’t even attempt to explain where he’s coming from because he falls into whole-scale panic. When he loses control of the trajectory of others--of how they perceive certain things about him--all of his charisma fails him. If he can’t explain or justify where he is mentally, when he’s too afraid they won’t hear him or care, then he needs to redirect the opposing party). Additionally, he feels responsible; that he can better adjust the outcome with his experience--and while that may be true for some things, sometimes he gets ahead of himself. Only an individual can decide their own future and their own happiness, the most others can do is enhance or worsen aspects of life. He doesn’t have enough faith that his presence is positive or worthwhile enough to guarantee his spouse’s happiness ;-;

The other possibility I see is MC coaxing him as best she can into reassurance that she’s happy with her new life. While he may have doubts, there is absolutely room for her to help him approach those fears little by little. If Leonardo has even a hint of doubt in regards to his dismal feelings about her being turned, a potential for acceptance may be nurtured. I don’t think his uncertainty would ever fully vanish; there will always be a lurking fear that a fate tied to his can only mean suffering and disappointment. Prove his worth and compassion with time, and this man will be unable to remember how life was lived before her. It would take a great deal of patience and a sizable obstacle, but it wouldn’t be impossible. His heart is much too big for that, I think.

I don’t think happiness with a turned MC is impossible, only that it would take a lot of work to swing it after a heated moment of decision. I think the way to go with Leonardo is a more enduring effort. He shows much more receptivity after years of being together. I think time, ironically, helps him relax into the possibility of forever as a couple. I think he cannot conceptualize a world in which he is in love, and that this love is not conditional--not dependent on his ability to be the perfect companion, the brilliant inventor, the equanimous mentor. I think he needs to see for himself that love can be gentle and real and whole even when he’s at his worst (by his self-perception).

Also I put some extra meta under the cut because I have brainworms and just can’t stop thinking about Leonardo rn so read if you like, but it’s more related to why he feels this way abt turning MC than necessarily about the outcome.

That being said, I'm conflicted because I don't necessarily think Leonardo only loves MC because she's human? (Rather, I think it’s more a result of his history and the values he’s developed in response to that upbringing. But I’ll loop back to this in a bit, so stay tuned)

I say this for two reasons. Firstly, I don't want to say that no person in this period shared his values (I mean look at Comte)--this would be an overstatement, even if it was rare. But it does appear that Comte and Leonardo are acute exceptions within vampire society in elevating human beings to an equal status among vampires (if not a higher status at points or depending on the person). As such, a vampire partner he’d be comfortable living with is unlikely. Human beings are more optimal in some regards (more adaptable and more egalitarian than vampires, most likely), but he also knows that he’s more susceptible to falling in love with a human; so he makes sure to squash his feelings or remove himself when his feelings become too intense.

Secondly, he's in close quarters with MC by necessity, and reacts to her isolation by virtue of the situation. That's probably half the reason they get together at all; he was fully intending to keep his distance despite his initial curiosity. One thing this signals to me is that even when Leonardo did feel attraction to any person he was in contact with, he would avoid them until they were removed from his presence--or he deflected their romantic approaches enough times for them to give up. With this in mind, it can come as no surprise that Leonardo has kept to himself for nearly five hundred years now. If it was another vampire hitting on him (especially a pureblood), he would be playing into his parents' expectations and would approach the vampire social hierarchy he was working so hard to escape. If they were human, he would deem himself a burden; he could never love them within the normal expectations of a human couple (growing old together, raising a family, etc etc). So ultimately I think it's less her being human, and more their compatibility and context.

As such, I think he just locks himself into a kind of Catch-22? Because in the end I think this is more about his own fears and insecurities--that he can never make someone happy, that he himself will never be enough (hello child of abusive home). Not to oversimplify his character, but one crucial element of his upbringing must be considered if he is to be analyzed properly.

There's something I often think about:

Comte, quoting Leonardo: "‘Not all parents love their children, or even think of them as such.’" [Though he got away and was able to make a life for himself, he had to do it alone.]

There is. A LOT to unpack here. While we may not have evidence of what his familia is like firsthand, this description tells us...so many heartbreaking things. It tells us that Leonardo never once felt like anything more than a child intended to carry on a legacy. The likelihood that his insights, his feelings, or his entire self-hood were acknowledged is pretty much at a hardcore negative three. While it's been a good number of years since he was the problem child/family disappointment, I feel like so many of those experiences seep into his capacity to properly accept the love of another person. It's a good portion of the reason he struggles so intensely with being loved despite his unfathomable wealth of affection for other people. When a person is diagnosed with unlovable and cringe for having positive feelings for others, it's not really surprising that a person might have trouble accepting a commitment or attraction to another person. There is...a kind of Sisyphus dilemma that surfaces in the wake of that kind of life, a constant push + pull between craving acceptance and either expecting it’s loss and/or fearing it’s disappointment. Though he shows signs of healing from it, there are still portions that linger. (Jean-Paul shakes him from this self-berating in his MS, but after four hundred years he still struggles to overcome those instincts. I wish there were words for the extent to which that knowledge breaks my heart...Many say time heals all wounds, but sometimes I think only others can heal them.)

Keep in mind, I don't think his enduring fallacy that "human beings are the epitome of untainted purpose and vitality" is irrelevant or less problematic here. I just think it's a reflection of a deeper disturbance and loss. It's a reflection of his parents' unilateral rejection of the kinder parts of him; his devotion to patience and understanding. It's a kind of reiteration or what he's already known: he's doing exactly what his parents did in an odd way, he's rejecting vampirism whole-scale despite evidence of both pros and cons (just as it is for humanity). I will always offer that his fear of something going wrong during the change is completely valid--but it does feel more like a fear of admitting that vampires (and eternity for that matter) aren't inherently awful. He ran away from his parents for good reason of course, but for all his running he didn’t escape their black and white logic.

It’s funny too, because his absolutism is kind of reflected in his inability to commit to a single discipline in some ways; while part of it is that he probably exhausts study, I have to wonder how much of him oscillating is a fear of eventual failure. (Think his reaction to MC’s knowledge that he can’t dance, his mortification and utter...shock that she wouldn’t use it as a way to make him feel terrible about himself). He probably prefers to hone his skills helping people because the motivation of providing relief is a much more powerful motivator than knowledge for knowledge’s own sake. He needs the impetus, that drive to move him.

Granted, I won't fault anyone for feeling like Leonardo only loves MC for her humanity. At first glance it really did feel that way! But the more I think about it, the more I feel it has more to do with the weight of his life's experience, and the parts of himself he hasn’t been able to reconcile.

Sometimes, with Leonardo, I urge gentleness. So much of who he is disguises all the ways in which he has been hurt. While his decision is selfish and foolish, it comes from a broken place. My unhappiness will always lie predominantly with the fact that he believes to his core that happiness and self-respect is something he doesn’t deserve.

#asks #ikevamp #ikemen vampire #ikevamp leonardo #ikevamp mc #ikevamp meta #ikevamp saint germain #ikevamp comte #er this response got a lot longer and more detailed than i meant it to be but uh #i hope it's helpful?#this is just how i tend to think about the game but then im also a feral leo stan alhkjadagd #im just that meme like 'i love you but i hate you but i love you' with leo LMFAO #sometimes u just gotta smack some sense into the man (which is why i love that Jean-Paul does exactly that HAHAHA)#but yeah most of the time i look at leo and have to resist the urge to cry and the recent event has been absolutely no exception #i would die for him

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