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honeypiehotchner · 4 years ago

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My Deep Blue Love (Tom Hiddleston x Fem!Reader) -- Soulmate AU one shot

This was 100% born out of boredom and loneliness and those damn Soulmate AU POV Tiktoks that I have seen practically 24/7 for the past WEEK on my fyp

(I’m not sure if I’ll do a part 2, rn I have no plans for it)

quick note on the technicality of this one: you lose all ability to see colors when you turn 12 and you don’t regain the ability until you meet your soulmate. but! you have to meet them in person and it has to be a mutual eye contact. pictures/videos of them don’t work, and if you just saw the back of their head or something in person, that doesn’t work either. it’s all about the shared eye contact babeyyy

small disclaimer: Brie Larson is mentioned in here and she has a wife, but that is very much only in this fic, and as far as i know Brie doesn’t have a wife irl lol (i also don’t know if she’s spoken about her sexuality at all so what i’m saying is take it with a grain of salt ok)

Summary: Everyone around you is meeting their soulmate, but you still see in black and white. You’re ready to give up, and basically have, when you lock eyes with your soulmate.

Warnings: None! Just a bit of angst, lots of fluff toward the end

You knock on your mom’s bedroom door at 4:58am. She’s already awake, sitting up in bed, ushering you over.

With tears in your eyes, you crawl onto her bed, snuggling close to her chest.

“I don’t want to lose my colors,” you whimper.

“I know, baby,” she whispers, kissing the top of your head. “It’s okay.”

You were born 12 years ago on this day at 5:08am, so in a few short minutes, when you officially turn 12 years old, all color will drain from your life.

Or the colors could stay, but that’s only if you’ve somehow already met your soulmate. And that’s rare, nearly impossible.

You squeeze your eyes shut at 5:07 and you don’t open them again until 5:10.

The colors are gone.

+++

twenty years later

You sigh heavily as you receive yet another wedding invite. You are invited to witness the official beginning of Olivia and Jeffrey’s lives together as husband and wife, soulmates for all of time.

The glitter sticks to your fingertips, tiny black dots against your skin. Your friend told you it’s gold. You barely remember what that looks like.

Lately it seems like everyone has been meeting their soulmate. Just yesterday, you were having coffee with a friend when she looked up at the girl sitting behind you, and boom.

“It’s like the world just exploded,” she had said. Colors were everywhere. She immediately left you to go talk to the girl.

You don’t blame her for that. If you had met your soulmate, you probably would’ve done the same thing. But you can’t say for sure because you don’t know.

You wouldn’t be so cynical of it all if your boyfriend of five years didn’t meet his soulmate while the two of you were out at dinner. You wish you could say that he was faking it. But it was clear from his face (and the girl’s) that he wasn’t kidding. It was real. He had met his soulmate, and it wasn’t you.

It’s never you.

You’ve had guys cut off dates before they even start, all because they didn’t see colors when they laid their eyes on you. They refuse to even be friends with you.

All anyone is doing anymore is searching for a soulmate and it’s exhausting when none of them are yours. When all of your friends see color now. When everyone assures you that it’ll happen soon. What does soon even mean?

You grab your ice cream from the freezer and fall onto the couch, flicking to whatever channel has late night shows that aren’t complete garbage.

As usual, you find yourself watching a talk show, and tonight Tom Hiddleston is one of the guests.

You’re sort of familiar with him from a few movies, but other than that, you hardly know anything about him.

“So, Tom, we’ve all been wondering what’s going on with you and Brie Larson?”

“Brie?” Tom asks, clearly shocked to hear this question. “We’re just good friends, that’s all.”

“Oh, she doesn’t make you see any colors?”

“Ah, no, actually, she does not,” Tom chuckles, but doesn’t sound sad at all, surprisingly. “Her wife does that for her, not me, I’m afraid.”

“Oh really?” The host brushes past the mention of Brie’s wife and keeps the focus on Tom, of course. “So is that true, you still don’t see color?”

Your ears perk up at the mention of someone else not seeing in color. It’s rare for anyone to talk about this on television. Most celebrities don’t talk about whether or not they’ve found their soulmate, but more often than not, those that have are quite loud about it.

“Yes, that’s true,” Tom answers. “I still see the world in a lovely black and white.”

You snort, harshly jabbing your spoon into your ice cream. Lovely. Yeah, right.

“Do you really think it’s nice? Do you not miss the colors?” The host asks.

“No, no, I do. I do,” Tom admits. “But I like to think I’ll see them when the time is right.”

You groan, going to Google to look up his age. And when you see he’s 40, you groan even louder. He’s older than you and he still hasn’t met his soulmate. That’s just depressing. How can he sound so optimistic?

“Alright, well, if there’s one thing you wish you could tell your soulmate, what would it be? Maybe they’re watching right now, you never know.”

Tom smiles wide. “Maybe, maybe, um… Oh, so many things,” Tom exhales deeply. “I guess I could be cliché and say I can’t wait to meet them and wait for me, but I think I want to say… I think I want to say I understand. It is frustrating, still seeing in black and white, but our paths will cross soon, I’m sure of it. Until then, my eyes are blue.”

Blue. Blue.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even remember what the color looks like.

+++

seven months later

“I am not going to a movie premiere. You’re insane!”

“Please!” Your friend, Catherine, cries. “You’ll love it, I swear.”

You glare at her over your coffee. “That just makes it sound like you have a trick up your sleeve.”

“I don’t,” she says. “I just want you to take advantage of this and come with us! When will you ever have the chance to go to a movie premiere again?”

She has a point. Dammit. “Touché. How did you get tickets, anyway? Please tell me you didn’t spend thousands for this.” You wouldn’t put it past her, even though you tell her not to every time before she does something like this.

“God, no, Joe surprised me with them earlier. He said he went to school with the lead.”

“Oh. Cool. Who?”

“Tom Hiddleston, I think. Have you heard of him? He’s British, but that’s about all I know. Joe just said they ran into each other the other day and reconnected.”

You stop halfway through a sip of coffee, careful to not choke on it. Slowly, you nod. “Yeah. I...I’ve seen him in a couple things.”

“Apparently, he hasn’t met his soulmate either…” Catherine trails away, raising her eyebrows at you.

You roll your eyes. “I heard,” you set your cup down. “He’s probably met them by now though since he blasted it on television like that.”

“Or he’s still searching and you’re still being too cynical.”

“You’re probably right,” you chuckle.

“Sooo, you’ll come?”

You sigh heavily. “As long as you help me pick something to wear.”

+++

“I’m regretting letting you talk me into this already,” you mutter when you nearly trip in your heels.

“Oh, hush,” Catherine swats your arm. “It’s an excuse to get dressed up and look hot for no reason. Take it.”

“Fine.”

Catherine’s soulmate, Joe, was whisked away almost as soon as the three of you stepped inside the venue by some director (you think), but he promised to return in a few minutes. Catherine told him not to worry. She’s used to him being dragged away for conversation. You can see from her face that she’s more proud of him than anything, and not at all annoyed.

Currently, you and Catherine are standing near the small bar, waiting for them to announce that it’s time to take your seats. You desperately want a drink, but part of you knows it would be a bad idea.

One glass of wine can’t hurt, though. Maybe it’ll take your mind off the pain in your feet.

You peel away from Catherine when you see Joe coming back, and you flag the bartender down quickly.

After ordering a glass of white wine, you wait patiently, wishing you had chosen a dress with sleeves. It’s fucking cold in here.

“Darling, you’re shivering, are you alright?”

Your head turns toward the smooth voice, face set and mind trying to decipher whether or not it was a sincere or creepy comment when the world quite literally explodes.

There, standing beside you, concern written all over his face, is Tom Hiddleston. Only now the concern has washed away into awe when your eyes lock with his.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, stumbling even though he’s standing in place.

“Blue,” you murmur. “Your eyes are blue.” Without even thinking or asking, your hand lifts to cup his cheek, and then you pull back, “Shit, sorry—”

But he grabs your wrist gently, placing your palm on his cheek. “It’s alright.” His thumb strokes the back of your hand. “I have been looking everywhere for you.”

“I thought you didn’t exist,” you whisper in reply. But here he is. His eyes are blue, his lips are pink, he has tiny brown freckles all over his rosy cheeks. You look back to his eyes, narrowing your own. “You liar. Your eyes have green in them, too.”

“Do they really?” Tom chuckles. “I never would’ve known.”

“That’s why you have me,” you tease, and you don’t know where any of this is coming from, yet it doesn’t feel like you’re pretending. It feels like you’re finally yourself.

His other hand tangles with yours as he nods. “That’s why I have you, indeed.”

At this time, the lights in the theatre begin lightly flashing, signaling that it’s time for everyone to begin making their way to their seats.

But neither you or Tom move one inch.

The only issue is people are beginning to stare.

You notice it first, so you slowly pull your hand from his cheek. This movement shocks him back to reality, too, and he blinks a few times, yet he doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I, um, I have to make a speech,” he says. “But then I can come back to you. Will you save me a seat?”

“Don’t you have to sit up front?”

He nods. “I do, but—”

“Then I’ll come with you.” You aren’t sure if it’s the fact that he hasn’t let go of your hand yet, or if it’s because you’ve been waiting so long that now you don’t want him to be further than an arms length away from you, but you mean what you say.

“Are you sure?” He asks, but you both need to make a decision quickly because you can see someone waving from the wings, most likely trying to get Tom’s attention.

“I’m sure.”

He doesn’t question it, in fact, he grins, and brings your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x fem!reader #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x you #tom hiddleston x soulmate!reader #tom hiddleston soulmate au #soulmate au #tom hiddleston one shot #tom hiddleston fluff #tom hiddleston fanfic #tom hiddleston fanfiction #completely self indulgent #as always

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years ago

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No, It's Definitely Funny

Prompt: Can I request a second part to "Let's Call It Funny" where Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Peter unite forces to confuse and concern all the other avengers (with at least one instance where two or all of them respond to something by pretending to jump off a building?) Love you! -Auggie

Does it count as being back on my bullshit if I never left?

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for gen z humor

Pairings: it's still found family hours

Word Count: 2259

Peter’s gonna be honest, he may or may not have some competition for the funniest person in the Tower right now.

Because let’s look at the list here:

Traumatized? Everybody and their private jet’s worth of vintage and designer baggage needs therapy.

Queer? If you think Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or Sam Wilson is straight, you need to tell them everything they’ve ever done to make you think they’re straight so they can stop doing it immediately.

Superhero? Yeah, okay, shush, now you’re being stupid.

Neurodivergent? Have you seen the way these men behave? Definitely the model of Perfectly Normal Person™, what on earth are you talking about, absolutely 100% Normal™.

The only things he’s still got going for him that the others don’t are high-schooler and trans. That’s not a lot when it comes to the fact that hey, two of them are from the Great Depression—let’s be honest, they’re the OGs when it comes to fatalistic humor—and they’ve all got years of practice.

Sure, Peter’s got some trauma-given raw talent, but it’s not refined by years and years of throwing yourself off of buildings and out of planes to avoid having conversations about your emotions.

The day Aunt Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files on the Internet and Peter found out that Steve yeeted himself out of a plane—without a parachute!—to avoid Nat’s prodding about getting a date was the best day of his fucking life.

“Don’t you go stealing my moves there, kid,” Steve had scolded playfully, winking over the rim of his mug.

“Try and stop me, I dare you.”

“And this is why,” Tony had sighed, looking every bit his 79 years—“Hey!”—as he watches this interaction go down, “you have a parachute built into your suit.”

“I’ll just wear my old one, don’t worry about it.”

“That heinous thing that’s just a cut-up old hoodie and goggles? Peter, no, that thing is being held together with safety pins and hope!”

“I mean, me too, so it’s fine.”

“Peter!”

“Also, like, it’s the one I almost got crushed to death in, so it’s got the emotional trauma seasoning already.”

“Wait—“ Bucky had sat up— “you almost got crushed to death by a building? Sheesh, kid, you’re really flirting with the reaper, huh.”

“It wasn’t so bad, I had training from the years and years of carrying the weight of my sins crawling on my back.”

“At least ask Death for his number next time, he’s not returning my calls.”

“Sergeant, I swear to God—“

“Actually, Death uses they/them pronouns, I asked when I met them last weekend.”

“What the fuck did you do last weekend?”

“Really? Oh cool, well, can you get their number for me? We had a date back in ’45 that they missed.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Tony, why are you screaming? Not keeping dates is a very serious matter.”

“Trust me, I speak from experience, Tony, it’s not a good habit to get into.”

“You should respect your elders and not scream while we’re talking to you, mister.”

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

See? On one hand, it’s great to have more partners in this venture of making Tony’s hair turn grey—he’s that age, it’s bound to happen any time soon now— “One more crack about my age, kid, I swear.” — but on the other hand, Peter is seriously losing his massive lead on funniest person in the Tower.

The other thing he’s worried about is Sam’s ability to make it so the others can’t actually worry about him.

Because—listen, Sam Wilson is a fucking national treasure and all you fuckers better acknowledge that. It’s no secret that the Captains take turns going out with the shield, all of them answer to ‘Captain America’ because that’s what they are, but no one—and Peter will never say this under threat of death because he does not need any more of the Steve Rogers’ Puppy Dog Eyes™, thank you very much—no one does it better than Sam.

And that means that Sam fucking Wilson can turn a fatalistic, self-deprecating joke into a motivational speech that doesn’t feel disingenuous or cliché at all and everyone is too busy processing the philosophical revelations they’re having to scold him for his, frankly, outstanding sense of humor.

It’s not fair and Peter can’t do it.

He tried. Once.

Didn’t go very well.

No, he’s not gonna talk about it, let’s just move on.

Sam has offered to catch him a couple of times when he gets himself a little too deep into the Mamma Spider™ or Iron Dad™ trap of feeeelings, and he gratefully scoots out of the way when Sam sits down next to him and just makes another joke.

Sam is also a fantastic role model for the brand of ‘I’m going to the store and only have twenty bucks, stop asking for your will to live back’ jokes.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, bodega run.”

“Can we pick up some hopes and dreams, too, all of those got scribbled out in fat red Sharpie yesterday.”

“I said bodega run, not Court of Miracles run.”

“But Sam~”

“Listen, kid, if you manage to find your hopes and dreams in this bodega, keep an eye out for your childhood innocence, that might be on the next shelf over.”

“Deal.”

“Do you two need some more therapy appointments?”

“Only got fifteen bucks, man.”

“I’m literally a billionaire!”

Peter eagerly studies under this pinnacle of humor and keeps his worries to himself.

Because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and Peter’s sense of humor is wonderful, but he is a tad intimidated by the amount of variety the others have got going for them.

“You’re a fucking terror, Spider-ling, that’s what you are.”

“Not true! I was ‘a pleasure to have in class.’”

“Oh, is that why you’re taking ‘Little Shit’ lessons from Barnes and Rogers?”

“And Sam! Don’t forget Captain Wilson, he is an invaluable part of this team. I’m surprised at your ignorance.”

“Pete—no, that’s not—“

“I’m ashamed for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Listen here you little shit—“

Anyway…

Steve and Bucky have a habit of telling these like, really awful jokes that have Peter in stitches for half an hour. It’s not fair and he doesn’t get why they’re so funny because they aren’t, and yet here he is, laughing anyway.

It’s probably some combination of Steve’s perfected innocent face that he wears when he has to do interviews and Bucky’s habit of not giving a single solitary fuck. But they’re able to make the worst jokes with completely serious expressions and it’s not fair.

“Hey, can you guys come help me with something?”

“Sure, Peter,” Steve says instantly, bounding over with his 95-year-old Golden Retriever energy as Bucky trails behind him like a cat that’s sitting in your lap because he wants to, not because he likes you or anything, “what’s up?”

“I have a history project on WWII due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet.”

Bucky snorts, taking a swig of coffee and sitting down on the floor. Which, same. “You got your eulogy planned?”

“Drafted, sighed, notarized, but Aunt May said no so I gotta do this.”

“Well, if Aunt May says no then I guess that’s that.”

Tony, from far away in another part of the Tower, has a sickening feeling that May Parker has once again proven that she is the most powerful parent and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I, um,” Peter mumbles, fidgeting with his pen, “I want to be respectful of your boundaries, and if you don’t want to talk about anything then—“

Because it’s one thing for someone to make jokes about their trauma and another for someone else to go poking and prodding at it.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts softly, nudging him with his knee, “first off, thank you for saying that and we appreciate your respect, but we got you. You worry about enough, sweetheart, let us take care of ourselves.”

Peter gives him a look.

“When it comes to this,” Steve amends, having the decency to look a little sheepish, “we’ll take care of ourselves.”

Bucky scoffs. “Uh-huh.”

“We will, Buck.”

“My therapist will be real happy to hear that.” He looks up at Peter and winks. “Besides, what good is our trauma if we don’t pin it up and display it for good grades?”

Peter huffs, the joke undercut a little by the way Bucky knocks his foot against Peter’s and Steve’s arm stretches over the couch behind him.

Peter has to resist the urge to lean his head onto Steve’s shoulder, because then Steve’s hand will come up and ruffle his hair and Peter’s eyes will droop slowly closed as he loses himself in the warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace and then Steve will lean down to press a kiss to his temple and—

Right. Homework.

“What’s it on specifically,” Bucky asks, clearly spotting the temptation on Peter’s end, “home front? Overseas? Time period?”

“Uh, it’s an analysis of total war.”

“Like, how much of the country was devoted to the war effort?”

“Yeah, basically. It’s talking about how the Nazi War Machine made their war total and how that extends to a lot of other countries, but also about the reasons why the war was fought—“

They delve into a conversation about total war, Peter pointing out how Italy’s motivation for territory keeps it from being a total war on their part, Bucky speaking to how the different dynamics worked in various countries and the fallout, Steve bringing up how much of the home front was devoted to bringing attention to the war being fought overseas. Then, of course, as is inevitable, they devolve into storytelling.

Peter’s notebook—with notes! He did his job!—is set aside as he gives in to the need to let Steve cuddle him on the couch. Come on, the man is warm and big and gives good hugs, how is he supposed to not? Bucky sprawls out on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he smiles fondly.

“You know,” he remarks casually, “I fought a Nazi in my pajamas once.”

Peter blinks sleepily. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, though how he got in my pajamas, I have no idea.”

Peter snorts. Then he giggles. Then he’s collapsing into Steve’s side, positively sobbing with laughter.

It’s not funny.

It’s really not that funny.

But here he is, fucking dying, and he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to welcome the sweet embrace of oblivion.

“Okay, note to self,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down a little, wiping away tears, “sleepy spider likes corny jokes.”

“Just don’t break our baby spider, Buck, Momma Spider would kill you in cold blood.”

“Listen, if Natasha Romanoff kills me, don’t prosecute. That’s on me.”

Peter can’t do corny jokes. He really can’t. He just sounds like he’s a recording so old it’s unintelligible and it’s bad. He has a reputation to maintain here!

However, there is one sense of humor that Peter is very eager to learn and adopt, and hey, it might actually be Iron Dad™ Approved!

It’s a rookie mistake, asking Bucky Barnes for a hand, but in his defense, Peter was left unsupervised and was distracted.

“Hey, Bucky, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

Something nudges his arm and he looks down. It’s Bucky’s metal arm, bumping up against his elbow.

It’s a cheap joke. It’s bad. It does not deserve Peter’s laughter.

He snorts anyway.

“That’s on me,” he says after a second, “you know what, that’s my fault.”

“What, is this not what you meant?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Peter scruffs a hand through his hair. He looks down at the prosthetic again. “Well, that’s disarming.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to snort. “You gotta hand it to me, though, it’s a good joke.”

Oh, it’s on.

“No, no, of course, I understand. You really can’t let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers.”

Steve chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Stop making the kid shoulder the burden of making puns with you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t palm this off on someone else, Steve, you’re as bad as he is.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Peter shrugs. “You just gotta knuckle-down and find the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to reach for puns?” Bucky hefts his arm.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say a lot.”

“Jeez, Pete, good one.”

“What, are you not finding them humerus?”

Sam’s gone, Steve shortly after. Bucky just grins proudly at him.

Then there’s a massive thunk from behind them. Peter turns around to see Tony slamming his forehead into the counter.

“You are all going to kill me,” he mutters, glaring up at them, “all three of you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, Captain Barnes would never hurt you.”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“After all,” Peter grins, gesturing to Bucky who is doing a very good innocent face—he must’ve been taking notes from Steve— “look at him, he’s completely armless.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker—“

Okay, so maybe it’s not Iron Dad™ Approved.

Oh, well.

#dragonbabbles #marvel #the longest running con in the mcu is people thinking steve isnt an extra hoe #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fic

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katiebruce · 4 years ago

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adios, amigo.

Well, 2020. What is there to say that hasn’t already been said, tweeted or Instagram-ed a thousand and two times about you? I’ll save us all the generic stuff—“unprecedented,” “nightmarish,” “absurd”—yes, 2020 was all of those things, but on a deeper, more personal level, there is so much more I have to say that doesn’t fit quite into those clichés.

So, this will be my attempt to document and reflect upon one of the strangest years I’ve encountered in my thirty-one years on this planet. Buckle up, buttercup.

Like many others before me have frequently observed, the way I spend my New Year’s Eve has always set the tone for the year to come, and boy, was this year a picture-perfect example of exactly that. Because I had to work on January first, I spent my New Year’s Eve at home watching a depressing movie with T, quietly kissing on the cold back patio as fireworks went off in the distance. I remember feeling both happy and sad about this evening (a duality that was a major theme for me for the fifty-two weeks to come, if only I had known). I was sad not to be celebrating my favorite holiday and even remember telling T that I didn’t want the year to come to be one I spent not going out, staying home, and becoming reclusive as I finished up the stressful process of finishing my MFA thesis in the course of ten (or, what I thought would be ten) short months.

But on the other hand, being held in T’s arms, I remembered feeling so happy that I could have this little quiet holiday—something that felt so private and personal—so entirely our own. It really set the tone for our relationship for the year, and for the obstacles we not only overcame together but dominated, one right after the next.

January was cold, snowy, and full of flight cancellations, which I remember to be something worth celebration at the time. I stayed home and snuggled my way into Aquarius season, the time for me and my brethren to shine, feeling positive that I had lived my thirtieth year to one of great satisfaction and maximum travels taken. (If only I had known then that that late-January El Paso layover where my crew and I walked across the border into Juarez to eat street tacos and laugh over Mezcal would be one of the only times I would leave the country for the year, well, I might have taken a few shots of tequila and really enjoyed my stay abroad just a bit longer).

February came, and with it, the promise of friends. My darling Kristopher, as always, flew to Chicago on the day of (also the day I completed and passed my eighth recurrent [!]) and, thanks to my other darling baby, Nicole, scored tickets to one of the highly coveted format reunion tour shows happening in March* for me, her, and my momma.

(*It did not, in fact, take place in March).

I turned thirty-one in the way I’ve come accustomed too—surrounded by my favorite people (this year at Dorians—a jazz club to end all jazz clubs) too drunk and too smiley to even coherently remember the evening properly. As much fun as I remember having, I told T that I thought it was my last year to host some sort of birthday gathering, and to hold me to it come next year. (He did very well—a few weeks later, after spotting an ad in a discarded newspaper for the Chicago tour of Moulin Rouge happening on my birthday weekend, we bought tickets and I sat peacefully with the fact that one of my new year (or, new age) resolutions was so quickly and poignantly adapted).

By this time, I was already deep in the throes of my first thesis writing course, meaning that I was pretty stressed out all of the time and surely a misery to be around (sorry to those of you who were). Basically, in three semesters’ time, I was expected to draft, edit, and rewrite a fully formed novel (70,000+ words) and the idea of accomplishing such a feat felt like a ton of bricks being carried on my shoulders. I had at least four mental breakdowns in the beginning of the year (again, we all know what lays ahead for the year, I know—but at the time, this seemed like an unbearable amount of stress for one person to have to carry. The joke is not lost on me).

In the coming weeks, things began to get even weirder. Covid scares began sprouting up in cities all around us, and as the government asked people to stay at home, airline ticket prices became massively reduced, so more people began traveling. I mean, this shit was like spring break on acid—it was hugely stressful, and though the threat of the pandemic had yet to reach Chicago, I felt more and more at risk with each passing day as careless amounts of people cashed in on what they thought was the deal of a lifetime.

By the time March reached its midpoint, I, like so many others, was terrified. We had no PPE at work—literally nothing. No gloves, masks, or even hand wipes. Cleaning the aircraft still wasn’t considered a “no-go” item, as far as regulatory practices go. I remember watching the news on my layovers only to keep myself up at night wondering if the virus was going to take hold of me or anyone around me, and if so, how long until they would recover, or perhaps wouldn’t.

St. Patrick’s Day came, and after fighting about whether or not to go out with friends (we didn’t—and for the record, T and I rarely fight—but this was, after all, his first St. Patrick’s Day as a Chicagoan—so his resentment was more than justified) we saw a matinee movie (Onward) and while in the theater, read about how Chicago restaurants, as a precaution, were shutting down the next day due to rising concerns about the spread of the virus. We reacted by grabbing drinks & lunch at one of our favorite neighborhood eateries and tipping the waitstaff more heavily than I think I’ve ever tipped anyone in my life (not mentioning this to brag, or whatever—just remembering what it was like to feel utterly helpless and unsure of what to do or what was to come—we had to find our positivity in some way, and on that day, this was how we saw fit, and it helped).

Then it all sort of happened at once—Lauren’s store was closed with no impending reopening date. The grocery stores (and I swear to god, I will never forget this) became a madhouse—people taking things out of other people’s carts when they weren’t looking. I remember going into Mariano’s with T and insisiting we tie bandanas around our faces for safety, feeling like a goddamn bank robber about to make a heist. But there was nothing left to even take. Frantically, we got what we could and got out of there, and I went home to have a full-fledged panic attack about the state of the world we were currently living in and what we were going to do if things didn’t turn around quickly.

As if overnight, everyone cancelled their airline tickets. It was for the better, and though it put my job in serious jeopardy, I was in massive support of it but still felt an eerie sadness looming around the countless empty airports, airplanes, hotels and city streets. There were times when my crew and I were the only guests in a place—times when I had zero passengers on a revenue flight. And then came the mass flight cancellations—and I mean mass. Everyday became a battle of anxiety as to what was going to happen to my job in the next twenty-four hours, and then cooing my stressed-out thoughts to sleep, only to relive the anxiety with every phone buzz waiting to find out if I had lost my job overnight. By mid-spring, I was hugely considering dropping out for a period of time, just due to the stress of it all, but thanks to support from my friends, family and T, I chose to stick it out and roll with as many punches as I could until I was finally knocked-out.

Quarantines were happening all around me, and without the ability to travel or the (former) grueling expectations of maintaining a social life, I started to reconnect with myself in ways that felt both organic and new, yet much like returning home after a long time away. Lauren taught me to knit, and we celebrated her birthday on the floor of our apartment in an Indian-food induced daze renting Emma and making thousands of tiny knots onto needles that would eventually become blankets. We took walks, did puzzles, and Lauren drove me to and from the airport on the rare occasion that I actually had a flight to work, as the CTA had, unfortunately, become a cesspool of targeted attacks on flight crew members (seriously) because they were often the only person in any given train car.

A rare glimpse of optimism then presented itself via two different opportunities: a chance to take a ninety-day leave from work, and a job offer in the form of editing a book for publication. I said yes to both and hoped that I would be able to take a step back and deal with the crumbling world around me easier with both of these opportunities now on my horizon.

This period of the year (May-July) started off swimmingly. Knitting, reading, and even smoking weed for the first time in nearly a decade (I took two hits and spent the rest of the evening sinking into the couch painfully aware of how bad I am at breathing and worrying that I might stop at any given moment). I fell in love with yoga and felt myself loosening up parts of my body and my mind that had been twisted into a series of knots for god only knows how long. I spent days reading in the sun, baking bread like everyone else in the world, and learning to make my own pies. Things were going really well, and I was even ahead in school, now on track to graduate in August—when things started getting heated.

I’m not going to go on a rant about race, although I very much could, but I will say this—the fact that we are still in a race war in this country in the year 2020 (and even now, a few days into 2021) makes me so sick to my stomach I don’t know what to do. Every injustice that passes by us, overshadowed by the next untimely death or wrongdoing makes me angry in ways that I cannot even fathom putting into words. It burns the color red that is so hot and so vibrant that I can see it soaking through my eyelids even when I squeeze them shut. This country lost a lot of love from me this year, and even more respect. There are not only things we can do better—there are things we must change. And honestly, most days, I don’t think most of the country is ready to not only admit that but to also work for. And that not only sickens me, but depresses the living hell out of me. I feel so stunted all of the time when I picture a world so at peace with its own injustice. It’s just so unfair.

I watched as the world was (rightfully, although woefully) destroyed around me. My neighborhood turned into a desolate, looted shadow of itself—one where Lauren and I could sit on our back patio safely until dusk, when the crime and gunfire became so rabid that on occasions, we sat in the living room in total darkness, listening only to the radio, afraid to let anybody at street level see that we were, indeed, at home. The opportunists that took advantage of the message of this movement made me numb to such a large demographic of the population, and I found myself crying myself to sleep enough times that I thought it might be time to leave the warzone that had become Chicago for a little while as escape down to Florida. So, we packed our bags and left. It is not lost on me that so many did not have this option, and for so many minorities, just simply existing during this time was enough to cause assault. I know I am fortunate—I carry it like lead in my pockets every day.

While in Florida, the first retailers began to reopen and I found myself waiting in an hour-long line to buy soaps and hand sanitizers, and to get a glimpse of what this “new normal” might look like when things started picking back up again. Like many, it was jarring to see empty tables, capacity limits on items, cashiers behind plexiglass sheets shouting to be heard over both the physical barrier and the cloth one strung across their faces.

By the time T & I arrived home, Lauren was already making plans to reopen her store “safely” and I felt sorry for her. How could anything be safe when nothing had changed? Why were companies acting as if business could go on like before—even though nothing had gotten better?

My final months of my MFA were just ahead of me, and I had one month remaining free from work to finish my first full-length novel, and I all I really remember is stress stress stress.

And then Andrew, being Andrew, offered a glimmer of hope, in the form of a drive-in concert celebrating fifteen years of Everything in Transit in southern California, a mere matter of hours from where Nicole had been working. It took a matter of two or maybe three text messages to confirm that we would be attending, and once the ticket was purchased I practically packed my bags and headed off to visit her and try and make light of my heart.

As suspected, the trip was magical. Being around Nicole, per usual, was magical. My heart felt so fully aligned seeing a little piece of her story and getting to experience her way of life once more—drunken hot springs and all their glory. There truly are few things in my life I love more than sitting in the passenger’s seat as Nicole drives us all over the country, and experiencing it again felt so right and so perfect that I honestly thought it was one of the happiest experiences of my life. Because I had requested so, she drove me all the way to Venice Beach the day of the concert so we could see where the infamous album cover was taken. We ate cbd gummies and listened to jack’s and ate in-n-out burger like our lives depended on it. When the concert began, it was eerie, yet hopeful to see all the new protocols of something that had become so familiar to me in my former life. Drinks were ordered through an app and delivered, as was merch, and clapping was replaced by the exuberant honking of car horns. We streamed the sound through the radio and laid the in the back of Nicole’s converted SUV as we cried and sang along to the songs that made everything, even just for one night, feel like it was all going to be okay again. We ended the evening marking ourselves with our first stick and poke tattoos—hers a sun to my moon, positioned to kiss one another when we stand next to each other on our preferred selfie side (lol). I left worried about how long it might be before I could feel her warm embrace again, the embrace of one of the truest friends I’ll ever know, but also recognizing that we were lucky to have had such an experience at all during such an insane year and feeling eternally grateful for its memory.

The last weeks of what I referred to as my Rumspringa were ahead of me, and one sunny afternoon I wrote the final pages of my novel. In a mad rush to edit, revise and complete my portfolio for official review, I never really sat with myself and what I had accomplished or congratulated myself; I wrote a book in seven months’ time, and even though I am unhappy with it (more on that later) there’s no denying that I actually did it. I did it, and nobody can ever take that away from me; it’s an accomplishment I will forever have, and it’s all my own. And I need to remind myself of that. I need to let myself feel proud.

I was back to work in September and taking a huge pay cut, though working the same hours. It was stressful, but once I found out my portfolio had been accepted and I, indeed, would be receiving my MFA I felt a bit at peace for a while. I had let my hair grow long all summer, and all but stopped wearing make-up (mascara makes me feel entirely dolled up now). I felt in an odd way free—almost bare.

The fall came and went fairly quickly—the weekends alone at home and grocery-store-only outings feeling more and more like normalcy. It had been such a tough, trying year, that it suddenly felt nice to just stand still for a bit. So, I did.

In a brief amount of time, I watched (safely) as friends got married, got sick, got older and fell in love. I watched, with great anxiety, as our country voted in the most important election of our lives so far and took the deepest breath I’d ever taken as I watched that man face defeat—although he’s yet to swallow it. I watched as ex-lovers had babies, got engaged and never really stopped to think twice about any of it. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the safety (and not in a lame, “safety-net” sort of way) of having T in my life has turned me into someone who not only craves quiet time at home, but really also sort of fell right damn into it very easily, though unexpectedly. I’ve heard the saying so many times before, but you really don’t realize everything is different once you find the right fit because that place feels like it’s always been home. I am grateful to not only have that now and moving forward, but most certainly throughout the trying, unstable times of 2020. In fact, I don’t know how I would have survived without it.

The holidays always creep up on me, and after being dealt a shitty hand from work (don’t even get me started, I’m still fuming) they came that much quicker. T & I were lucky enough to spend the holidays back home in the swamp, visiting my parents and his Dad. The time went by fast but was relaxing, fun, and reenergizing. We spent New Year’s Eve playing giant Jenga and yard Yahtzee with my parents in the cool, tropical winter of Florida. It was nice. We got tired right around 11, so we laid in bed until midnight talking, staying awake just long enough to share our new year’s kiss. It felt right—a proper send off to such a strange and unusual year. I was exctly where I needed to be—wrapped up in a blanket of T’s embrace, comfy in a bed in my childhood bedroom.

So now, here it is: 2021—the supposed upgrade to 2020, or so everybody secretly hopes. So now, as I sit here, drinking a warm, soy-chai latte (homemade!) I find myself having great difficulty setting an intention for the days ahead of me. I feel so beaten and bruised and physically fatigued for no reason but the experiences of 2020 and the courses they ran all over my life. I’m feeling reflective of having finished yet another year of my life (and my Saturn return! Halleluj!) and finding it hard to be anything but fatigued. I guess it’s from the year that’s just finished—more so than any other year it physically pained me at times to be alive at times. I’m missing so many of my friends who I haven’t been able to see for extended months at a time now. I am craving a sense of normalcy, of safety, so that I can feel better about making plans, but as for right now I just don’t have it. I am quietly trying to make subtle changes within myself and how I react to the world around me, but just like the start of this new year, that process is a slow one.

One of my resolutions (though I’m growing to hate that word more and more with each passing year) is to get back to writing. I had a good, albeit stressful, thing going while still in school, and after finishing my novel and receiving feedback, I couldn’t shake the feeling of absolute failure. It’s still there—it’s really hard to try and celebrate an accomplishment when you don’t feel like your work was good enough to warrant anything at all—especially not a fine arts degree. I never said I was a fiction writer—I just wanted to get better at writing fiction—so I need to remember that and allow myself to veer away from that for a while, to work on something new. Something I’ve been saying I’m not ready to write for many years now, something that when I now say that is just a plain old lie: My memoir. I’m ready to close the chapter in my life where I am a flight attendant, so the timing feels more than perfect.

I learned so much about what I want to do within my career and what sort of boundaries I don’t want to place on myself—and I’m trying, I really am. T gifted me with my own pottery wheel for Christmas and we are going to set it up this weekend and I am so excited to get my hands muddy and start creating. Until this year, I didn’t realize how much I needed a creative outlet other than writing—I had been depending on it for too long, my little cup felt bone dry. So, I’m excited to see where this new hobby takes me and how it influences my ability to return to the blank page—quite literally.

I know this year will not be the quick fix that so many are hopeful for—I think quite the opposite, actually. But here are some things I know for sure will happen: I will move out of my apartment and in with T. We will then, immediately get a dog and a new apartment. This, alone, feels like enough to fill the pages of the blank year ahead of us. I will go long periods of time without seeing my loved ones, and without traveling (bleak as this lifestyle may be). I will write, even when it’s hard to. I will publish something—I’m at work submitting pieces as we speak, and though the process is slow, I can tell this is my opportunity—I am ready t fight for it. I will turn 32, and the numerology of my life will seem more aligned. I will spend my birthday at home, alone, because of course Moulin Rouge has now been cancelled (I’m fine with it). I will learn more about myself the more I use my hands to create, to plant, to sculpt, to mold. I will love with fervor. I will smile more, because it’s actually healthier for you, even though my black heart hates to admit it. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll get to attend a live concert, though I realize this might be wishful thinking at this point. I will do mushrooms and giggle with the colors. I will cry. I will hurt and I will cause harm. But through it all, I will persevere. Because if 2020 taught me anything, it’s that I am capable of regenerating into new versions of myself that I didn’t even have the time to dream up. I can adapt to whatever is thrown at me, though it will often times feel impossible. I can, and will, create. I can be reborn (as many times as I’d like to, too).

So, thanks, 2020, for teaching me more about myself than any other period of five years has ever taught me. I definitely feel like I’ve been through the ringer a couple of times, yet I find myself still standing day after day. It must be the way a domino feels, standing up, time after time, knowing that something right in front of you is about to knock you down. But instead of thinking about what I’m bringing down with me, I’m thinking of the entire collective as a whole—we are all experiencing this together. And maybe, just maybe, on the other side, there’s a kid with a smile waiting to do it all over again. And that’s perhaps where the beauty lays: we have to tear everything down in order to do better, be better, make change. Nobody likes to catch fire, but everyone loves rising from the ashes. We’ll all get to where we’re headed, one way or another. And eventually, I hope, we’ll see that the other side is better than we could have ever dreamt of.

I hope that 2021 is a bridge that brings us from destruction to creation. I hope the journey is long, so we all appreciate the outcome.

I love you all and wish you warmth and wellness into this year and beyond.

Happy new year—honor the circumstances you have around you and let them help you grow.

#me #personal

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jq37 · 6 years ago

Note

Let's go final bloodkeep ep breakdown!

**spoilers for the tomb of ultimate evil**

I was originally kind of annoyed that dropout wasn’t working when I wanted to do this originally, but it’s actually kind of a blessing in disguise now that I think about it because it means I get to rewatch and discuss the ep in light of the bombshells Brennan dropping in the BTS video.

As I watch the Previouslies, I realize I’m still not over the fact that Maggie named her kid after Leiland. It was so sweet an unexpected.

So, at the start of this episode, Brennan must have realized that his plans are pretty much jossed because the 4 baby blessing was *very* not on the docket

“Absolutely, Lilith’s got 25 strength.” Idk why that’s so funny to me. Maybe because I think Rekha was asking whether Lilith was allowed to carry her, not if she was physically cable but Brennan was like “Of course she can carry you. She’s an absolute unit.”

Leiland’s first move? Drawing all the enemy fire. Markus’s first move? Immediately hiding. In fairness, my dude is a rogue.

Lol, spiderweb baby bjorn.

“We’re evil but we understand communication and consent.”

Nat 20 from Old Pickering! Finally he’s useful!

Watch a bitch call lightning! A different bitch, but still.

Amy’s childish delight at the prospect that there might be a bomb in the goblins is so good.

I love how on board everyone was for the mystery potion.

Did Hork exist before this episode? I have no memory of him existing.

Nat 20 for Sohkbar!

Brennan is really so good at all of his on the cuff J'er'em'ih nonsense.

Erika yelling, “Sanctuary!” a la Hunchback of Notre Dame.

I like that Lilith calls her spider kids to defend them by going, “Get ‘em ladies!” and then Brennan decides one of the kids she summoned is Jason.

“I really am sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done…and everything I’m about to do.”

Leiland Jr. MVP!

I love that Lilith treat’s Sohkbar as if he’s also a parent.

Two words I’ve learned to fear since I’ve started watching RPG shows: Lair action.

Leiland just BARELY not being on the falling chunk of floor.

Brennan really faked me out on that Jason fall. Man really was about to make me cry over a fictional spider for the SECOND TIME in my life (Charlotte’s Web).

I love Erika screaming over Jason in and out of character separately.

“Guys, this is our element! Knocking people off of things!”

Leiland’s affirmations. Who is doing counseling at the Bloodkeep.

AOE spells are so boss.

“Everyone look at Leiland! He’s doing it!” Aww, everyone finally gets to see him be cool! It’s really wild how much of an arc these guys went through in just 2 days of play. It’s very narratively consistent.

“Oh you fucking freak, you’d love that.”

“Tell him something is gonna happen to his bones but don’t explain it.”

Rekha loudly announcing her ridic amount of hitpoints is on of my fave things

I love how in both campaigns so far, Brennan has had a moment of, “You’re not bad at magic, you’re just depressed.” What an oddly specific thing but also, relateable.

Cell Block Tango ft. Leiland.

Leiland curses one of the Vingury. I’m sure that won’t be important later (I’m lying).

Ify/Markus just refusing to learn Hobbert and Frod’s names.

Ify: *Trying to do a shenanigan*

Brennan: I see what’s happening here.

DOOR LORE. DOOR LORE. DOOR LORE.

So I guess the real lesson of this season of D20 is always commit to your running jokes because you’ll get free nonsense out of it. (A 19! That’s so painful!)

Jessa just straight eats not-Gollum.

Both Jason and Jessa are very protective of their mom and I love it.

Maggie All elves look the same. (Maggie said F elf rights)

The full 6 seconds of silence from Matt between his saying he loves J'er'em'ih more than any other animal companion and looking directly at the camera and saying, “Except for Trinket,” very seriously.

Amy: I must become the necro boatman.

Brennan, whose plans have now been entirely womped: :O.

I truly didn’t even consider attacking the boatman. I feel like this is such a good DM moment, because I feel like my reaction would have been, “That’s not how this works,” but Bren just let it happen, which is better both for the story and player agency. I’m taking notes.

Efink getting validation on her chosen name by the evil statues.

“Kick his ass and you get the power!”

“I’m like a setpiece, not like a guy!”

Sohkbar claims the baby as his ward. This baby is gonna have so many godparents.

“MY DAD SHIT IN A BAG?”

What a wild improv.

I love the ancient evil statues have Lilith’s back on the fact that she should have gotten the promotion.

When Leiland Jr was born Brennan was like, “He’s not gonna do much. He’s a baby.” One ep later this baby is taking turns and fireblasting enemies and talking like he’s the Godfather.

OK so there’s a lair action. Leiland rolls a NAT ONE to not plummet into the Bloodkeep. Brennan clearly is ready to bring out the ghost figurines we saw in the BTS.

The statue Lilith JUST got the blessing from falls which means if she hadn’t gotten it that turn, they would have been screwed. Sidenote: Brennan says it was an instant lose condition for them which is part of why I was surprised that this wasn’t his plan to begin with. He just readjusted everything on the fly and set new parameters. What a good, confidence projecting, quick thinking DM.

It’s Leiland’s turn. He is once again falling to his doom. This time, without the bossa nova music and soothing apathy because he actually has something to live for.

AND HE USES HIS HEX TO TELEPORT TO THE VINGURY HE HEXED BEFORE.

It was JUST close enough. And he almost cursed Olag instead! That decision saved his undead ass!

I love that Leiland is Uncle Leiland to Jason! And later Jessa calls Efink Aunt Efink. I wanna see evil Thanksgiving so bad.

“You’re really killing it today Leiland!” My boy finally getting the praise he deserves. (Also, wild that this is all still THE SAME DAY)

“oKAY, okay, OKAY, oKay.” –Brennan having a moment

“You wanted us to play evil characters but we’re actually playing evil players.”

Man this episode is truly how Leiland got his groove back, huh?

Boatman rolls a 4 to resist fear. Go Leiland!

“I take off my mask to reveal…I’m sexy as fuck.”

Everyone including the evil statue is hot for Markus.

“Shut the fuck up, Olag. Go kill yourself.” Maggie just has no patience for nonsense (that’s not the kind of nonsense she enjoys anyway).

“Do I take psychic damage from that?”

Lilith gets a nat 20!

Maggie, upon Leiland calling her 'my queen’ for the second time: Just call me Maggie, please.

“THAT’S AN ABILITY J'ER'EM'IH HAS?”/“I guess.”

“Lilith, you’re my girl! Lilith, my girl!” They grab hands over the table. It’s such a pure moment.

Brennan after they kill the Boatman: I mean, fuck me I guess.

Leiland goes down. Leiland Jr. goes, “Nah, get up, you’re fine,” and he gets back up. (Brennan at this point has clearly fully leaned in to the direction his players dragged him).

Leiland comes back as Leiland the White. And I just realized! That’s the ghost figurine! I thought that was the figure Bren got for when Leiland inevitably completed his story arc. No! It was the figure for in case Leiland DIED.

Leiland FONZES at Leiland Jr.

Nat 20 from Maggie to avoid falling into the Bloodkeep!

Leiland lets Markus convince him to not kill Olag (for future shenanigans). Leiland instead owns Toby and rolls a 29 to convince Oswald back onto their side. Toby also comes as a zombie on their side. Everything’s coming up Leiland!

Except no, he goes back down immediately and falls face first into the blood pool.

OK, check it. Markus bargains with one of the evil statues to make Olag alive and undead for eternity. The statue is kinda on board but wants to make a trade. Markus basically goes, “Watch this,” and STEPS INTO THE VOID.

Go back and watch Amy’s reaction. It’s so genuinely shocked and concerned. Matt’s is good too.

Sidenote: That is apropos of nothing goal wise. He just wanted to torture Olag.

Maggie gets the final blessing with a quiet, heartfelt speech Brennan doesn’t even make her roll for. The statue tries to get her to put in a good word w/ her dad for it and steps all over the moment.

Ify, about to pull out shenanigans part two, electric boogaloo: I never got a chance to attack on my turn.

He attacks himself and warps back up!

Amy: Is that how you play a rogue????

Why sneak attack damage? Can you sneak attack yourself?

“You’re a liar!”/“I’m a rogue.” Beautiful.

We’re evil!

Oswald dies and Leiland comes back! Hexing Oswald really panned out for him

“It’s all spiders from here!” I wanna start saying that.

Efink cancels out a nat 20 on Sohkbar!

Lilith telling her kids to go find safety is a small thing but sweet.

“You know you live near Goblin Island and you always say you’re gonna visit.”

Markus swashbuckles over to the bloodkeep before he falls. Leiland is ready to jump his bones.

Nat 20 from Leiland! Is that his first one?

AND THEN HE ROLLS TWO NAT ONES!

Classic Leiland.

I love that Leiland is pro J'er'em'ih now.

John Feathers comes back for the epilogue. Rehka is more excited than anyone.

Lilith is voted queen regent of Gorgar! Go girl! And Jessa opens her fashion firm while Jason sets out to the forest. Good for them.

Scream beast babies!

And little Leiland asks big Leiland to get him the head of Galfast Hamhead! Full circle, I love it.

OK so Brennan said this and he was right. Leiland and Maggie have such a wild ass arc. She goes being “that whore” in ep 1 (idr what he actually called her but that’s the vibe he gave off) to “my queen” in episode 6. And like, man. Imagine planning a game where the goal is to lead the players into a PvP free for all and, instead, the only two characters with a legit grievance mend fences so much that one names their child after the other and that one swears fealty to that mom and her child. Imagine failing so hard at your original goal. Wow.

Anyway, that’s it for Bloodkeep! Thanks for hanging in there for me to write this up! I want to say something about the teaser for T.U.S. too but I’ll save that for another post.

Sidenote: So Matt has been on D20 and Brennan has been on Naddpod. I think this means Brennan or Murph gets to be on Critical Role now. I’m a lawyer and I’m pretty sure that’s how the law works.

#asks #a-salty-alto #escape from the bloodkeep #bloodkeep #dimension 20 #i know this is typo riddled but this is a 3 hour episode and I don't have the patience to edit this rn so...

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corvid-knight · 7 years ago

Text

Tricksters Don't Cry

The aftermath of Rose and Kanaya's wedding as it impacts a certain pointy-shades idiot and British-sounding dork. In other words, why Dirk and Jake needs to learn to fucking talk to each other.

(Read it on ao3 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12836904)

You have lost track of Jake.

How in the hell did you manage that?

You sigh, adjust your shades, and survey the wreckage of what was Rose and Kanaya's wedding. The party got...a little wild. Calliope brought one of her trickster lollipops (also known as "alien marriage love drug," also known as "something humans should have no part of"), with the result that you just spent an hour keeping Dave from molesting John, Karkat, and pretty much everyone else here. He's going to have some pretty heavy embarrassment when he finally comes down off it. He's halfway down now, actually, curled up on a chair with a bemused Karkat, hiccupping and giggling at the same time, both of them wrapped in Dave's cape.

Jake. Focus, Dirk. When was the last time you saw Jake?

Oh, yeah. Dave apparently decided he wanted to try out your boyfriend. The resulting smooch was...well, you really hated seeing it. Sometimes you're a jealous bitch. (You're off-topic again, and there is really no point in thinking about how you wanted to kill Dave for one short moment there. Seriously, stop thinking about how Jake made that little squeak that you thought he only did when you kissed him...)

OFF-TOPIC, STRIDER. And painfully so.

Okay, Dave kissed him. (And you are not thinking of that kiss at all.) Jake turned trickster...what the hell happened next?

Oh. Yeah.

Jake took off immediately, and before you could follow him Dave grabbed you and tried to stick his tongue down your throat. Which...yes, he is hot as hell...but genetically he is also your brother. Father. Whatever. The point is, you don't feel right having sloppy makeouts with him.

Also, Karkat was watching. You'd prefer not to wake up one morning minus your head.

So you fended Dave off. Then you kept him from overwhelming Karkat—trolls don't get the as much of the sugar-happy personality boost from trickster candy, and being semi-normal and on the receiving end of a trickster's attention can be dangerous unless you know what you're doing—and then you talked him out of going back in time and bringing back past-Karkat. One thing kept leading to another, and somehow you haven't had a Dave-free minute until now.

So where the heck did Jake go? Usually, tricksters go straight to whoever they're in love with, and he's not here.

(And yes. You know he might be with someone else right now. He probably is. It isn't like you and him are actually dating anymore. This line of thought hurts more than thinking about Jake kissing Dave.)

Regardless of any of that, you still need to find him before he causes too much trouble. You just have no idea where to start.

But, now that you think about it, you know someone who does.

timaeusTestified (TT) started pestering Arquiusprite^2 (ARQUIUS)

TT: Hal? TT: Look, I know we didn't part on the best of terms, but I could use a little help here. TT: Actually, let me rephrase that: I really need help. Please.

ARQUIUS: Wow, something I've never got out of you: "please." ARQUIUS: And seriously. It's ARquius. not Hal anymore.

TT: Okay then. TT: Arquius. TT: Is there any way I can convince you to use that vaguely defined spritely omniscience to see where Jake is?

ARQUIUS: ... ARQUIUS: Done.

TT: Um. TT: Could you, I don't know, tell me? TT: Please?

ARQUIUS: You must be really freaking out if you're being polite to me. ARQUIUS: I'll tell you where he is IF you tell me why you chose to call me instead of one of the other sprites.

You sigh again, at that. Damn the AR and all the games he likes to play. Especially since they all seem to feature "Dirk confronting something he really doesn't feel like thinking about." Maybe the most annoying part about that is that you know it's probably because of some aspect of your own personality that you repress or some shit.

TT: Truthfully? TT: I hate asking for help, and asking you is only half a step removed from doing it myself. TT: Is that what you were hoping to hear?

ARQUIUS: Not really. I didn't really "hope" to hear anything to be honest. ARQUIUS: Although it does prove that you're still just as messed up as you were before we parted company.

TT: Thanks, Arquius. TT: Your aspersions on my mental state are exactly what I need right now. TT: This makes everything so much better.

ARQUIUS: Wow, set phasers to "sarcasm!"

TT: Arquius...

ARQUIUS: Okay, okay. ARQUIUS: I've marked his location on your GPS. ARQUIUS: Is that all you need?

TT: Yeah. : Thanks, Arquius.

timaeusTestified (TT) stopped pestering Arquiusprite^2 (ARQUIUS).

It takes a little wandering around to figure out exactly where Jake is, even with the GPS. When you do finally realize that he's in Kanaya's closet, you have to roll your eyes. Here you are worrying about him, and he's probably in there making out with Aranea or something...

But because you're both a paranoid idiot and a masochistic fuck, you open the door anyway.

"Jake?" He hasn't got anyone in here. The light's off, and you flick it on to see him huddled in the far corner, hugging his knees to his chest. All you can really see is a mop of neon-green hair. "What are you doing?"

"I don't want it." His voice is muffled because he doesn't raise his head, but he doesn't sound like he's all the way trickster. He still sounds almost normal. "Dirk, I'm sorry..."

"Hey." You step all the way into the closet, shuttting the door behind you, and kneel next to him. "What are you talking about?"

"This." He looks up, at you, and if you weren't so used to keeping all your reactions perfectly under control you'd have flinched. There are tears on Jake's face, pale green tears that look so, so wrong. "I...don't want to be this."

"Jake, how..." Tricksters don't cry. It's not possible; one of the effects of the cherub candy is to basically turn off regrets, inhibitions, and almost every other negative emotion. But Jake's sitting in front of you, being impossible. "What's wrong?" Forget whether or not it's possible, actually. You just want it to stop. You can't stand seeing him in tears.

You go to wipe the tears off his face, and stop when he flinches away. Okay, something is very wrong. You remember the last time he went trickster; he wanted to touch you, kiss you, wrap himself around you like a second skin.

"Don't—" He shudders, hard, and scoots an inch farther away from you. "Dirk, I am barely holding on as things stand now. The trickster...it wants me to give in...so much."

You didn't know it was possible to fight off being trickster, but then again there's a lot you don't know about it. You're not even totally sure why you only go halfway when you turn, why your mind stays the same. Actually, yeah you are: as a Prince of Heart, you have the ability to rule your self, to stay under control no matter what happens. And you guess...since Jake's a Page of Hope, he can do whatever he believes he can.

Watching him shudder, watching the tears roll down his face, you are pretty fucking sure that that is not a good thing.

"Jake." He was avoiding your eyes; now his gaze snaps to your face. "Just let go. It's okay."

"N-no—"

"Why the fuck not?" You bite down on your tongue. The last thing he needs is to know how much he's hurting you. How much you still care, how much you still love him.

"Y-you." He lowers his head again and starts rocking back and forth. "I want you, I know I want you, and I-I-I..."

"Oh, Jake..." He's putting himself through this because he doesn't want to get back together with you.

"I'm sorry." That's muffled, but you can hear it just fine. "So—so sorry..."

"Stop. Just stop, okay?" You grab his shoulders, trying not to wince at his panicked gasp. He tries to curl into a tighter ball, but you don't let him. "Look. I can go away. Leave you alone until it wears off so you don't do anything you don't want to—"

"Please—no!" Having your hands on him is like touching a live wire, he shaking so hard. "Don't, don't leave me, I'm s-s-sorry..."

Oh, god.

He thinks you don't love him anymore.

"I'm sorry. D-Dirk, I—"

"Shh." You let go of him for one second, just long enough to slip your shades off and lay them on one of the shelves. "No. This is fine. I'm fine with this, Jake." When he looks up, you kiss him, closing your eyes so you don't have to see how teary his are.

You can handle being trickster. You hate it, it's depressing as hell, but it's not going to hurt you like fighting it is hurting Jake.

As soon as your lips touch his, Jake goes utterly still. He makes a noise that's either a soft cry of "no" or a moan—you can't tell which.

You can't feel the change in your head yet. Going trickster isn't going to completely change you like it does everyone else, but you should be able to feel it.

Jake whimpers into your mouth, gasps, and pulls away just enough to throw his arms around you, knocking you off balance. You barely manage not to topple over as he buries his face in your shirt.

"What—" His hair. It's not green anymore. For some reason, kissing him turned his trickster off instead of turning yours off. "Jake. It's okay."

You can't even tell if he heard you. He's clinging to you as if you're the only thing keeping him from falling, breathing too deep and too fast.

"It's okay. You're okay." If he keeps that up he's going to pass out. "Jake, you need to calm down..." You stroke his hair, a little slower than the rhythm of his breath.

"I love you," he whispers into your shirt, so quiet you barely hear it.

And you almost freeze up, because that is literally all you want. You've been telling yourself that you're fine without him, fine just being friends, but you can only lie to other people. Not yourself. You want Jake more than you want to stay alive, and he just said that he still loves you.

"I love you too." It's inadequate, but it's all you can say. "I love you too, Jake."

He takes a deep, halfway-calm breath. And then he starts to really cry. You catch a few almost-coherent words, but they don't make sense.

He cries onto your shirt, and you stroke his hair, you rub his back and make soft shushing noises and wait. Eventually, Jake's sobs taper off and stop. But he doesn't loosen up his grip on you.

"You okay?" you ask softly.

He finally raises his head to look at you. "I missed your eyes," he says. "I thought everything was just dandy, but as soon as the trickster popped up all the little things I miss about you added up and I—"

"Hey, it's okay. It's okay." He's about to start crying again, you can tell. "I'm right here, you don't have to miss me, and I'm not going anywhere."

Jake takes a deep breath, and finally lets you go. "I'm making a lovely fool out of myself, aren't I?"

"You got that half right—you're definitely lovely." When he goes red—he never could take a compliment—you continue, "You just managed to shake off the influence of cherub candy without doing…well, anything trickster-like. I'd say that was the opposite of making an fool out of yourself."

He shudders. "I don't want to ever do that again."

"Hey, next time just come find me. I'm totally down for going down on you."

"Dirk!"

"Or vice versa."

"Dirk!"

You weren't aware that Jake was capable of turning that shade of red. "What, you're telling me you didn't want to?"

"I—I just—no! I mean yes—I mean..." As Jake's stammering, the closet door opens. He freezes, blushing a few shades deeper still.

You look over your shoulder. "Hey, Kanaya." Yes, this is embarrassing. No, you don't let it show. "You want us to relocate?"

Kanaya sighs. "You two," she says sternly, "just cost me two weeks worth of making dinner for Rose. I need a shirt off that shelf behind you, Jake."

"Uh—" Jake just stares at her, so you reach behind him and pull something off the shelf. Maybe it's a shirt, maybe not, but you toss it to Kanaya, and she catches it.

"Are we good?" you ask her.

"Of course, although I would have liked it if you could have waited another week. This door has a lock; keep that in mind if you feel like having a bit more privacy." She winks at you—did you really just see that?—and steps back out of the closet, shutting the door behind her.

You stare after her for a minute, then turn back to Jake. He still looks embarrassed, but now there's a substantial amount of bewilderment thrown in. "Did she," he asks carefully, "did she and Rose have a wager on for if we'd get back together?"

"I think it was for when we'd get together, actually," you tell him. "Not if."

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. And bursts out laughing. You don't see why, but watching him laugh is enough to get you to smile at least.

He's still laughing when he reaches forward, grabs your head, and pulls you in for another kiss.

Having him laughing is a thousand times better than having him in tears. Having him of his own mind versus having him in trickster mode...

Well. There is no comparison whatsoever.

And you are more than happy to kiss him back.

#Dirkjake #Dirk #Jake #arquius #kanaya #Dumb baby boys

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aquarianlights · 7 years ago

Text

It's okay to be.

Although the death of loved ones will shake the very foundational base of any soul home.

It is because the crave for physical hugs and reassuring words of comfort.

When they leave this world through physical form they are not entirely gone. They are here with us always with the ability to visit freely as we would them at their homes.

It’s okay to cry, to vent, to relive memories of your special moments. But do not live in the past and the ghost of someone who wouldn’t want you to torture yourself. Although your grieving process is your own. Surround yourself with loved ones and friends who understand and have loved n lived through it.

It’s easy to tell another what to do and not. But the purest truth is to follow your heart and be kind to yourself as your password love one would want you to be.

I hope this helps you. As they helped you throughout life.

Response from Killian: Thank you so much for this. I really appreciate this. You don’t have to read all of this. But this is for you and for everyone and then for you again, if you do. I really, REALLY needed to vent and really, really needed a distraction and, well, everyone knows what helps me the most, yeah? Whining, bitching, and ranting/tangents. It’s the one and only thing that keeps me from acting on my life threatening impulses. So. . .here is the product of the venting that just saved me from myself. Enjoi or don’t. Thank you so much for the note. I appreciate it, fam. This response is mostly for everyone on my followers list, btw. I, personally, believe in reincarnation based on our karma. My entire spirituality revolves around the afterlife and the theory of reincarnation and different planes of existence and nonlinear time and linear time coexisting. But at the same time, I also believe in spirits, ghosts, entities, and all things falling within the paranormal realm as I have had numerous experiences with them. But I do believe that the entities that still haunt this linear existence on our planet are trapped here because their karma was either at 0 when they died and not at a positive or negative number, which means that the fate aliens didn’t know whether to demote or promote them and are evaluating their linear timeline. OR. . .there is no room in the place that they have to demote or promote them to and no parallel timelines are appropriate for them. So they are playing a waiting game. And on a rare occasion, the demonic spirits that are here that have enough energy force to actually move things and hurt animals and people. . .those are people who have done such horrific things that their karma was so far in the negatives that they could not be forgiven and were not allowed another chance and are now rooted here on this hell planet for all of eternity with all of the positive energy and positive karma they accumulated from birth to death sucked out completely so that they are truly left to suffer---all alone with their own malice, unable to actually converse with or be touched by anyone ever again. I cannot think of another instance in which it would be appropriate for someone to be locked into this existence or in the purgatory stage where they have to wait and wait and wait as this noncorporeal spirit coexisting with corporeal beings until they can progress to a higher level of existence either on their current planet or a different planet or be demoted to a lower species on their current planet or on a different planet. It’s always rare to be born as the same species on the same planet. That would be very strange and make no sense with the laws of karma unless you had a pure 0 karma that you had somehow managed to balance out in the fate aliens eyes right before you died. No negative numbers or positive numbers in existence for you anymore. Everything cancelled out by doing good deeds for all the bad you’ve done thus far and making sure not to do TOO many good deeds and to balance out the good with the bad and so on and so forth. Which is close to impossible while living your life. Which is why I truly think the fate aliens would keep these people with leveled out to 0 karma in a purgatory stagnant state as a spirit for a while until they figured out whether to do the taboo thing and reincarnate them as the same species on the same planet and everything be the same. . .or to do something normal and push them up to a higher plane but only like. . .one level higher and barely higher. Maybe even keep them as the same species on the same planet, but make them have a much brighter future and a much nicer life, which is always a possibility with karma. When you progress to a new species with a new planet, you’ll always have a better life. And when you get demoted, you’ll always have a worse life. It just works that way. It always has. And it keeps going and going until YOU become the omnipotent, noncorporeal alien that controls all of non-linear time and controls all of the fate aliens that control all of the linear time and you are literally the highest level of existence possible and there is nothing higher and you just exist outside of time and there is no concept of time and you exist forever and always and never and everywhere and no where all simultaneously.

Those are just the basics of my beliefs.

And they have a scientific basis to them in many instances, but I won’t go into that. I wanted to explain that BECAUSE. . .

You said they aren’t really gone when they are physically gone, right? And that they have the ability to visit us as freely as we used to be able to visit them in their home, right?

I am under the impression that you meant through spirits, like. . .say, through feeling their presence even when they are not there. Through talking aloud to them and something happening and just somehow knowing it was them responding in some way because it is something they would do (ie; knocking over a certain picture of someone when you’re talking to them about them to remind you how much they don’t like them).

Stuff like that is what I mean by feeling their presence. You know what I mean, right? I don’t have to elaborate, yeah?

You aren’t talking about, say, through prayer or, uh. . .guardian angel or any of that religious bullshit, right? Because, uh, you must not have known me or looked through my blog for even 2 seconds if you’re suggesting anything christian/baptist/catholic/etc based. And I’m gonna be highly offended if you or anyone else suggests I pray to them when they’re gone or that they’re watching over me from heaven or that they’re better now with “god” or that they’re my “guardian angels” now and they are always watching over me. Like, oh hell no, don’t anyone fucking say that while this shit is going on because I will get set the fuck off and I will attack anyone who says that shit. I won’t get offended in the least if anyone says they are praying for me or they’re sending me prayers and that they’re including my grandparents in their weekly service or something. Anything of that nature is actually highly comforting to me and makes me feel very at ease and happy and respected and loved. But the SECOND someone tries to force their beliefs on me and just assume like all christians/baptists/catholics/etc do that everyone will love to hear that shit and be comforted by the “they’re in heaven now/god has them/they’re your guardian angels” bullshit. . .I will fucking snap and attack them. Those three things (and I’m sure other things that I haven’t thought of, too, along with the “you should pray to them” thing) are the LEAST comforting things I could possibly be told during all of this.

1. I absolutely do NOT want my grandparents to be in heaven, if there were such a place. I do not believe there is, but if there were, then there would be every form of every beliefs afterlife available and up for the choosing when you died. You’d just go to some sort of grim reaper who is a sorter and tell them which afterlife you believe in and you’d be put into that version of the afterlife, the good or bad or neutral depending on what your ending karma is, unless you believe we disintegrate into nothingness, then, of course, there is only one ending. But if my grandparents were to go to heaven, that would fucking be it. They would never get another linear existence. They would never get another chance to find happiness. Do you know the chances of people like my grandparents who were high school sweethearts, laid eyes on each other and had love at first sight, have been married for over 70 years, will die happily married to each other and never once have been unhappy together and it wasn’t fake at all. . .do you know the chances of people like that becoming partners again in their second life if they get sorted onto the same planet and are similar enough species (both humanoid or both animal or something like that)??? It’s high. EXTREMELY high. I want them to have the chance to fall in love all over again and live a brand new life on a brand new world and see brand new things. My grandma was raised by an alcoholic and was beat all the time growing up. My grandfather is as bigoted as they come and is insanely ignorant and never went to college. My grandmother never even got her drivers license and that is something she has always regretted. I want them to get the chance to live better lives. I want my grandmother to have parents or parental figure(s) she deserves as the kind, loving, amazing woman she was before Alzheimer’s. I want her to be able to go far in life and get achievements that she couldn’t make in this life because she got pregnant with my mother so early in life and they couldn’t afford to send my grandma to school because they were growing up during the great depression. My grandparents got married right after high school and had 8 kids. My grandma was a GREAT mother and did everything possible for them and sent them all to school and those who wanted to go to college or trade schools, she sent them. She helped them every way she could. My grandfather worked very hard and built houses everywhere and he loved it and was very good at it, but growing up in such a rough, terrible, long ago time and being as white as they come and being raised by people who grew up in an even MORE white era, he has always been your typical ignorant, says and does whatever he wants, bigoted, hateful towards everyone that isn’t white as well as women, white man. I do not want him to go to heaven because I want him to learn his fucking lesson and get his ass kicked by being knocked down a peg. I want him to have his karma so low that he gets demoted. He wouldn’t move out of their house so late because of the fact that “I’m the man!! I need to take care of my wife!! It’s MY house!!! I don’t care that I have dementia and can’t take care of her properly! Hurr durr I am a manly man and these are my manly man responsibilities!!!” and since he only had dementia and not Alzheimer’s, he was their power of attorney and wouldn’t give everything up. It wasn’t until he drove his car into a gas station pump while trying to go somewhere in Massachusetts for the millionth time (he lives in Florida, but my whole family is from MA and I’m the only “southerner” who polluted the blood line by being born and raised in Florida and only coming up to our home state of MA in the summers) that they finally saw something and he got his license taken away. But then it wasn’t until my grandma FELL after not being able to get out of the chair for days because she wasn’t talking, wasn’t eating, wasn’t able to go to the bathroom except on herself, couldn’t get changed, couldn’t hold herself up and was sliding out of the chair, etc etc etc coz we thought the Alzheimer’s had progressed so badly. All of their workers had quit because my grandpa was a terror at trying to take care of her “right”. And then it wasn’t until she ACTUALLY FELL that he called 911 and they took them both to the hospital and they found out he had advanced lung cancer and they both had a UTI, but hers was severe enough to cause her to almost die and they rechecked my grandma’s breast cancer and it had progressed. SO. . .they were FINALLY taken to a home by adult protective services. And he was fucking mad about that! And I need him to just be knocked the fuck down a peg in his next life because I am so goddamn sick of his bitching and whining about black people and looking down on women who have jobs and looking down on my generation because we can actually think for ourselves and him always watching the fucking news like my father and getting all of his political information from the corrupt sources there and spreading fake news and actually corrupting the polls and making the rest of us suffer by going to vote and also his inherent HATRED for the LGBT community. . . And I am going to have to DIE without either of them knowing I am transgender. Because I was too scared to come out to either of them before my grandma got dementia. My grandpa probably wouldn’t know what it was. And my grandma wouldn’t either. But I would want them to listen and understand and know that I’m going to be getting gender correction hormones that will change everything about me to correct who I am. And I wanted them to BE HERE to see the end result. . . . but I guess this shows me that I DO want to go through with HRT before my parents die. I thought about holding off until my parents die to do HRT, but this confirms that I need to do it before they die so that they can meet their son and know who he really is before they die. I don’t want them to die without actually knowing me. If my grandparents went to this fake fucking paradise called heaven, there would be nothing forever and, frankly, the stagnancy of forever in heaven with nothing to strive for sounds like my worst nightmare. To have everything that I could ever want is my worst fucking nightmare and my own personal hell and I wouldn’t wish that pain on my worst enemy. Sure, it’s great for a little while. . .but for an infinite amount of time that drags on and NEVER ends. . .??? That would be the worst and I would end up hurting myself just to FEEL something other than that euphoria that they describe. Just like in the movies where there are drugs and stuff that are manufactured at birth to be ingrained in humans that force them to experience nothing except happiness their entire life and have nothing except happy memories and have a filter in their mind that filter out any bad memories they may accidentally acquire and erase them. . . . there ends up being a HUGE black market that EVERYONE partakes in (even law enforcement) for bad memories and drugs that will make you feel angry and sad and depressed and suicidal and upset and confused and stressed and all sorts of things OTHER than euphoric. That is what heaven is. . .the worst place imaginable. I would not wish that on my worst fucking enemy, nevertheless on people I LOVE. The ONLY person I would EVER wish that on would be Trump. That is how much I hate that orange blob. And I would want it to be televised for all of eternity for everyone to see the constant breakdowns and struggles and eventual going insane. I would only wish that kind of inane punishment on the most evil person on the planet: Trump.

2. To say “god has them” scares me. It downright scares me because I see the catholic/baptist/christian god as this scary, horrifying omnipotent presence who is cruel af to everyone and will punish everyone without mercy and without discerning who is deserving of punishment and who isn’t (noah’s ark, anyone? before you [note: these are all general yous, not personal yous] jump on me, if you all don’t know me... which, ...if you’re reading this and you ARE going to jump on me... you probably SHOULD know me first...lmao... you don’t wanna jump on a stranger and look stupid by being horribly wrong about this. . .but before you jump on me, I grew up and was raised roman catholic. i went to a private catholic school for almost all of my adolescent life right into my teenage years. I have not only read the entire bible, I have been forced to pick that horrible fictitious book apart piece by piece in religion classes over the years as I grew up. So don’t go telling me I need to read the fuckin’ bible just because you’re gonna be big mad about me having opinions that are harshly different than yours lol). This guy is someone who will usually not answer prayers and who will rape people, impregnate them, leave them with the child to tend for it themselves and not pitch in AT ALL. . . (not even gonna pay child support, my home boy? damn cmon fam). . .and will gladly allow everyone to be mass manipulated and will not stop them from using his/her name for horrible, horrible things when he clearly should have the power to do so. And what about his other son who he fucking betrayed and banished? Yeah, fuck this guy (or girl). And he apparently traps all these people up in this horrible place for eternity and gives them no options except to be happy and have all the things so that they have nothing to strive for and nothing to want for. . .nothing to keep them going, nothing to ever feel, no reason for existing, no reason for waking up, no reason to be happy except for the fact that you do feel happy and it’s all wrong for so many reasons that I don’t even want to elaborate any further because I’m going to get a fucking panic attack thinking about it because if I start to convince myself of the possibility that all afterlives are real---which means heaven is real and that is the ONLY way heaven can be real is if they are ALL real from EVERY belief---then this fucking awful place exists and tons and tons of people have fallen for the trap and are literally trapped there forever and ever and ever. . .and there’s nothing anyone can do about it. And because my mom’s side of the family is all catholic. . .they will all choose that afterlife, too, when presented with the choice of what afterlife to choose. . .oh god oh god oh god. . .my mom. . .my mom would choose heaven. . .oh god oh god oh god. . .I don’t want to think of them all suffering like that. That is the ultimate version of suffering. I can’t even imagine. . .oh my god. I need to stop. Immediately. Moving on......

3. To say my grandparents are my guardian angels is just...... wrong. I would not want a guardian angel. Ever. I used to find this creepy even when I was a sheltered, ignorant, brainwashed little catholic schoolboy. I felt it was so goddamn creepy when my parents and the priests and nuns at school (our classes were taught by nuns and our dean was a priest) would all say that “[x] guardian angel is watching over you so you need to make them proud by being on your best behaviour. But when you get into trouble, don’t hesitate to say a prayer to them. They will save you.” That was like. . .big brother stuff to me before I had even read 1984 or ANYTHING Orwellian in general yet. It was big brother before I knew what big brother actually was. It was scary and intimidating. It was like I was being watched all the time and I couldn’t have a moments peace and I couldn’t be alone ever. I always felt eyes on me and I could never move around or talk to the voices in my head or the hallucinations I saw like I needed to (which were always both thought to be imaginary friends by everyone, including counselors and my parents, until I got older and they never went away and more appeared and everything became much more vivid and frequent). It was torture. Christmas has always been my all-time favourite time of year because it was the one and only time my parents wouldn’t do anything bad to me ever and were over-the-top kind to me and loving and it was like they were totally different people in front of our entire family and friends. It was so much fun being with everyone, seeing all the sparkly lights, playing with friends, fireplace, the cold weather finally getting there, decorating the tree, decorating cookies, presents, stockings, festivities. . .so many things!! But you know what was always awful about Christmas when I was little and still believed? Santa Clause. It felt like he was some guardian angel watching over me for that entire month. On the 1st of December every year, I would become hyper-paranoid and hyper-aware of every movement I made, everything I said, everything I did, and every interaction I had. It was awful. It was torture. That’s what it feels like to have a guardian angel. Pressure. Constant pressure. And then I’m always thinking about them, too. Like. . .don’t they have better things to do than just constantly watch me? What, are they just sitting there all day and all night with binoculars way up there looking down at me unblinkingly? Are they right by my side as a noncorporeal orb of energy waiting to defend me at any turn? Whatever it may be, I feel like I am being watched 24/7. And it feels like I’m not the only one because they have to be watching over other people they were close to, too, right? So, how do they do it? I overthink it and get panicky and end up talking to them no matter where I am and I end up having breakdowns and/or panic attacks. And with no valium left to calm me down. . .I have nothing!! For fucks sake. Hearing my grandparents may be magically turned into slaves. . .that’s not something I look forward to. What, so. . .they get two options. They either get to be eternally happy and do nothing for eternity. . .or they get to be eternally happy and be a slave to the system of heaven as a guardian angel for eternity. Hmmmmm. Choose your poison, I guess! Fuck heaven and the concept of heaven. Fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

SO. . .as you all can see. . .those three things are EXTREMELY unsettling to me and TRUST ME when I say that, YES, I see the alternatives and the way that you people who worship/believe look at it. I know. I’ve been there. I was that brainwashed little roman catholic boy for the longest time. I was roman catholic for more of my life thus far than I have been my current spirituality which is my own that I do not have a name for since it is no particular religion or belief system and involves a LOT of different beliefs from belief systems around the world, as well as stuff I’ve discovered from my own experiences, as well as stuff from science. The stuff I’ve put down here are only regarding the afterlife and are only the bare skeleton basics of what I believe. But, TRUST ME, I know the opposing side. I don’t need any of it explained to me and IF IT IS EXPLAINED TO ME, whoever does it will be promptly ignored and blocked (and, yes, I can block anonymous people) unless you are just being SO ridiculous and SO stupid and SO ludicrous that I have to post it so that my 4k+ followers can all get a laugh out of it like I did. I’ll be sure to get a laugh out of all the religious nuts in my inbox after all of this is said and done, but I’m sure I will ignore most of them. But if one strikes me as PARTICULARLY hilariously ludicrous, I will be sure to post it for everyone so that you can all laugh with me. I promise. I won’t let you guys down. Haha. But I do not need it explained because, frankly, I could probably explain it a LOT better than any of you. But I would explain it in some words that are, er. . .not very pretty. :) So you all do not want me to explain it. Trust me. Trust me. TRUST ME.

*****And trust me when I say...... EVEN IF YOU EXPLAIN IT TO DEATH TO ME, IT WILL DO ABSOLUTELY NOTHING EXCEPT MAKE ME HATE YOU AND HATE WHICHEVER RELIGION [read: cult] YOU ARE A PART OF AS WELL AS MY FORMER RELIGION [that cult being catholicism] EVEN MORE THAN I ALREADY DO. It will do nothing more than make me have an even deeper hatred for religions everywhere and it will certainly reinforce the idea that people who believe in these things are generally horrible people who want to force their beliefs on me. You can bring a horse to water, but you can’t force it to fucking drink, bitches.*****

Back to the topic on hand.....................

I SAY ALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL OF THAT.............................

Because

I do not think my grandparents would still be present. And I say all of THAT and explain all of that in detail [the 1, 2, 3 thing] because I wanted to make it VERY clear to EVERYONE here because the vast majority of my followers are not people who speak to me on the daily like people on FB do, so you all do not know my trigger point with religion and how bad flashbacks happen the second anyone forces their beliefs on me in general or the second anyone forces their beliefs on me during a tragedy/painful time. I will lash out and instantly attack ANYONE who does anything like that and I wanted to make it HYPER-CLEAR for everyone and ANYONE that that is a thing with me and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to get that off my chest. . . . . .Venting is the only way I survive through things. I always need to vent in order to not harm myself and to not off myself. Writing ALL of this out allows me to write the pain off and to keep my impulses at bay and really think about things before acting on these horrific self destructive impulses.

So I really do need to write all of this AND post it. Otherwise it’s not fulfilling if I just erase it. Then the pain comes back. If no one reads it, then the pain comes back.

ANYWAYS. . .

I don’t think my grandparents would still be present for even a little while because I think they’re going to be promoted to the next planet and I know my grandma is going to be a humanoid species and is going to have a better life than she did here. . .but idk about my grandpa. I hope to fuck they find each other again. I really, really do. Their love is strong enough to transcend the boundaries of reincarnation. Or maybe my grandpa will be reincarnated on that planet as a domestic animal of some sort and my grandma will adopt him (or her if he gets reincarnated as a girl) and she (or he if she gets reincarnated as a boy . . .or maybe they have third or fourth sexes on this planet? or maybe only one sex? hmmm) will live happily by herself with her animal that is my grandpa and they will just have this special bond that you hear of in journal articles and they will live together until the animal dies or something and then maybe my grandpa will have good enough karma that he can come back as a humanoid and then they can be together in some capacity if it is not too late. Maybe he can be her adopted child. I doubt they could be lovers because of the age thing, but it’s possible after he gets old enough in their world to comprehend and understand what love between people with that kind of age gap means and be able to consent properly. . . Hmmmmm. You never know.

I just don’t think they will still be here. And if they are?

Well. . .if they are. . .that’s kind of unsettling for me with my belief system. I would rather not feel their presence ever again so that I know they passed on to their next life. If I feel their presence, then I know something is wrong. And if something is wrong, it will take my focus off of school at a very inconvenient time in my pre-med program when I need to be kicking it into high gear more than EVER. And it will kill me because I will just be having breakdowns and panic attacks and losing sleep ALL THE TIME over the fact that they’re not okay and that something is wrong due to the fate aliens not allowing them to pass on for SOME reason. And then I would be spending time researching ways to help loved ones pass on to the afterlife or to gain good karma in the spirit world in order to move on. . .instead of using the time to do research for surgical things for school. It would terrify me if I felt their presence in that way. :(

I know that is supposed to be a comfort, though, so I very much appreciate that mention and I very much appreciate that though. All of that excessive explanation and elaboration is moreso geared at my pack of followers who need to be informed during this time of grieving that that is the wrong way to go about helping me if they want to help. . .which I really hope they do. Not many people have come forward to help. . .and that kinda kill me. . .so I’m just hoping more people come forward with support and help like this because this was extremely kind and extremely helpful and I cannot thank you enough. Seriously.

That is VERY good advice to not live in the past regardless of actively thinking about the memories. . .I actually did not think about or prepare for that. I noticed I have been, uh. . .recalling a lot of memories with them or at their house lately. I’ve been telling stories left and right irl and through texts. I have never really done that before. Not about my grandparents. . .Hell, I JUST did it with this post, didn’t I??? Wow. I feel like I’m one of those people that are going to get stuck in a loop of thoughts if I’m not careful. . .I have borderline personality disorder AND schizo-affective disorder which both lead to insanely bad paranoid thoughts and catastrophic thinking issues. I had both under control until my pain medication for my fibro and ehlers danlos got stripped from my for 2 weeks and until it became an issue to get it. . .and I had it under control until my grandparents decided to uh. . .y’know. . .get lung cancer and breast cancer and get life threatening UTI’s and drive into a gas station and basically start dying way sooner than expected and to screw up the plan that my mother and the rest of the kids had. (They didn’t choose it; I’m just joking. I deal with things with sarcasm and humour. Which I believe is going to be frowned upon during their death. . .)

It was expected that my grandma would pass first and it would be swift and painless due to the Alzheimer’s. My grandpa wouldn’t last long after that because he would basically die of a broken heart. I’m not exaggerating or joking. Some old people legitimately do die of a broken heart when their loved one passes on. My grandpa would be one of those people. But my mom planned on taking him in and having him live with them and things would work out because my grandpa can mostly take care of himself. My grandma cannot. . .and if grandpa goes before her. . .my god, she’s going to be so panicky and so lost and so confused. Whenever he leaves the room, she gets extremely panicked and starts screaming his name and begging people to go check on him to make sure he’s not dead from this or that. He’s the only thing that keeps her grounded in reality with her Alzheimer’s. She doesn’t know what day it is, she doesn’t know who she is or what her birthday is, she doesn’t know who her my mom is, she doesn’t know who I am and I am her favourite niece/nephew in the family. . .but she knows exactly what her husband is doing at all times and she knows where he is and she knows if he has eaten and if he has taken his medications and she reminds him when to take his meds and all of these things. She could be lost somewhere, but if he’s there, it would be okay. Honestly, it never seems to matter where they are to her, as long as she’s with him nowadays. To him, it matters a fuckton. Everything matters. But with him going first. . . if my grandma doesn’t have that grounding thing in her daily life. . . . . .I have no idea what would happen. Because she won’t remember he has died no matter how many times they repeat it to her. She’ll be asking every hour or so, I’m sure. Probably more often than that and the workers at the home will have to keep repeating it to her over and over and over that he is dead and she will keep having to experience that trauma over and over and over. That’s............ that’s torture. I can’t imagine that. . .Whereas, if grandma went first. . .it would be peaceful. . .grandpa would grieve and eventually die of a broken heart and we would have the funeral in Massachusetts where they would be buried right next to each other. My grandpa wants to be buried under my mom’s “Nana” (idk how they’re related but my mom has always called her Nana and never by her real name. So idk.) so that he “can look up her skirt”. That was always his wish. So he gets the plot below hers. And my grandma gets the plot next to him. I cannot imagine being buried alone like that. . . .not even when I’m dead. I would have to be buried WITH my partner, not NEXT to them. Fuck no. One of my biggest fears is being buried alive. The fuck NO. Even after death, that’s not happening. But I’m not getting cremated either. I’ve already signed up with two organizations to have my body donated to medical students for study and to have my brain donated to a prestigious brain mapping organization which they will take ANY brain. Infected ones, ones with mental disorders, ones with issues like Alzheimer’s or Down Syndrome, from high IQ’s to low IQ’s, from people who have Ph.D’s to people who dropped out of high school, anything. They’ll take anything because there is absolutely nothing we cannot learn from examining the human brain piece by piece. And the fact it has to basically be fresh is a HUGE problem for brain mappers because the demand HIGHLY outranks the supply. And eeeeeveryone just LOVES to be an organ donor so everyone just immediately puts down organ donor on their card and never even THINKS to sign up for brain mapping or to have their cadaver sent to scientists for medical advancement or medical students for teaching purposes. Why the fuck save only a few fucking people who are going to die soon probably anyways when your organs may reject in them anyways. . .when you could literally use your own corpse to teach people who are alive invaluable things that can help them learn to help and to cure more and more things and more and more people. Why save only a few lives who will die shortly after you save them and may even reject your organs immediately and render them useless. . .when you could save thousands. . .millions. . .billions. . .maybe even be the basis for saving the entire human race? I have always said no to being an organ donor. I know vulcans and every other race in Star Trek has a problem with this phrase and even Spock himself has had a problem with this phrase in the series and has had discussions about it with Kirk, but I still believe wholeheartedly in it: “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few.” And I know people are groaning and saying “Well, Killian, what about when you are one of the few?” Glad you asked. I am not going to say that I will selflessly suffer and die as a self sacrifice because that is not what my human body will allow me to do and that has been proven via multiple suicide attempts and by chronic pain. I know exactly how my near death experiences have all gone. I know exactly how being extremely uncomfortable goes to me. I know exactly how my body and mind deals with physical pain. I know exactly how my body and mind deals with the prospect of my own death. My flight or fight response kicks in almost immediately when my body starts to feel the effects. The problem being. . .I cannot remember a single time that my mind/body has ever chosen the “flight” response for ANY instance. My body/mind has ALWAYS chosen the “fight” response so whenever I start to feel it and it sinks in that I’m going to die or COULD die, I will fight for survival with every breath I take. I will do everything in my power to stay alive, even if it means taking people down with me. Even if it means compromising my principals. Will I use organ donors to save my life and still have the “fuck being an organ donor” principle ingrained in me? Yeah, most likely. Albeit I cannot predict that, I can certainly predict that based off of the fact that that is an instance that I generally act hypocritically. I am a HUGE hypocrite in those regards and I am well aware of it and I am quite okay with it. I don’t mind being a contradiction at all. I’m not harming anyone; I’m actually helping people. In every instance in which I am extremely hypocritical, I am never harming anyone. So it is perfectly okay for me to be contradictory like I am.

Anyways.... I went off on a tangent like that because I started to get bad feels and started to feel down so I thought I would distract myself with writing about something different for a second. . .And it worked. I feel back to normal. Ahh, the powers of venting and bitching and whining. The powers of a good tangent. Beautiful.

And yes I do believe it is INCREDIBLY important to surround myself with loved ones. . .but I’m not sure I know many people who have gone through the death of someone close. I know one person---who I happen to be in love with---who has lost so many people near and dear to her. I feel I can go to her. . .but I don’t really have anyone irl. I mean, I live with someone who has lost someone close to him. But I don’t want to burden him by coming to him and venting to him over the loss of my grandparents when it is probably insignificant to his loss and his problems. I need to learn how to deal with things better, but I guess the steps to dealing with things better is to experience things in the first place. This is something I have never experienced. Not close people. To experience death of people you’re not close with and strangers is one thing. . .but to experience the death of people you’re close with. . . .that’s something I have never gone through.

I wish my person could be there for me more than she is. I know she said she was going to try to walk away from me more because she can’t be where I need her to be in regards to being okay and her mood and her tone of voice and being snappy with me. . .but I really needed her to . . .moreso to. . .put all of that aside for me for however long this lasts (probably a few months) and just not get a tone with me anymore and try to keep her mood matching mine or keep her mood UP like I normally do even if it’s fake and to never snap at me and to just, above all, be there for me at all times. Just. . .selflessly be there to listen, as a shoulder to cry on, someone to snuggle. . .basically just. . .a friend who is going to put aside all their agony and pain for me for a few months and go to other people other than me when they need to get a tone, get angry, get snappy, cry, vent about their issues, and have massive mood swings. It’s asking a lot, I know. It wouldn’t be asking a lot if it were just for, say, a week or something. But the fact that it will probably be at least 2 months. . .and right now has no set end date. . .that’s asking a LOT of her. . .and I know that. I do. I was just sort of hoping. . . .I was hoping that, since she is my person. . .that she would do it. I don’t know why I got my hopes up and allowed them to be crushed like that. That was stupid of me. And it’s not her fault at all! The fact that she’s going to walk away from me from now on whenever she gets a tone/needs to get a tone/starts to get a tone/wants to get a tone, whenever she wants to argue or engage me for any reasons, whenever she wants to take her anger out on others, whenever she wants to vent her frustrations, whenever she wants to snap at me/anyone/everyone, whenever she wants to bring other people’s moods down to her level, . . .she’s going to walk away for all of that. . .But since an assortment of that usually happens on a daily basis, that’s going to hurt. A lot. To have my person have to disengage from me and walk away every day probably in the middle of a conversation. . .That is going to be truly painful for the first few weeks of it. But it is most definitely better than it continuing the way it was because I got SO close to actually attempting suicide the other night simply due to her. Nothing else. I mean, everything else was there. . .but it was just sort of. . .there. . .it wasn’t new, it wasn’t bothersome. . .it wasn’t a big deal. . .it was all just there as per usual and were all just big reasons to die that outweighed any reason to stay alive. But I was solely focused on the reasons she was constantly giving me on the daily, whether they were directed at me or not. It was awful. Being someone with borderline personality disorder and not being able to control my life-destructive-level impulses is horrifying for me and everyone around me and everyone who knows me. So for her to support me in this way---the only way she can right now---is exactly what I need. I’m hoping that maybe when my grandparents do actually pass and we all see how I actually react finally and I will actually need her there more than anything (I think. I just don’t know. I may want to be alone and may shut everyone out or may even run away from home and sleep in my car or on the streets for all I know.]. . .maybe she will start responding how I need her to the day after as well? I fully, 200% expect her to respond with total and complete support that day/night. I expect her to watch me for suicidal behaviour, watch me for cutting, stay with me if I need someone to hold me, stay with me if I need someone to talk to me, stay with me if I need someone to just.... watch Friends with me all day or something equally lighthearted, check in on me emotionally (or literally if I’m okay enough to be left alone) every hour or less, to give me lots of hugs, to be EXTREMELY sensitive to everything going on regarding me, to not get any sort of mood or react badly to anything and I 200% expect her to show support and love and radiance and kindness and not any of the normal snippiness and darkness and sarcasm and hatred. I will be absolutely shattered if she tries to bring me down to depressed or suicidal like she normally does. Absolutely shattered and at that point, I’m sure that will be it for me. I 200% expect her to try to keep the mood jovial as much as possible even if she is not feeling okay. I expect her to do everything she can for me. I expect her to get things for me and basically, uh. . .be my maid for the day? HAHA. Okay, no, I don’t expect THAT last part. Just kidding! I do expect her to fetch me water and shove it in my face to remind me to hydrate, though, because I will be dehydrating easily that day and I do not want to end up in the hospital that day because I would surely get admitted to a ward if I were there ad talked. So having bottles of water shoved in my face every once and a while would be extremely helpful so I kinda expect that of her, too. But. . .also, not, because that’s not totally common sense? Whereas the rest of this is? Idk. I just need her to be..... an amazing friend and I need her to cry with me, laugh with me, hug me, hold me, pet me, be there for me, listen to me vent, listen to me ramble about pointless things, not interrupt me, just. . .listen to me go on and on, even if she doesn’t understand me while I’m crying, listen to me tell stories even if I tell them twice because I probably will because I will WANT to tell them twice to make it seem more real that they happened at all,. . .I really need a listener that day, all day. Someone to snuggle and listen to me. I may even need someone to sleep in my bed with me that night. I may even expect her to sleep in my bed with me that night, permitting her boyfriend allows it. Not like we haven’t slept in beds together since they got together. It’s not a big deal. He doesn’t mind at all, despite the fact we are ex’s. He’s a very good boyfriend and knows her well and knows me well and knows our past and trusts us both. I’m his little brother in a sense of a platonic relationship where I am not blood related to him and the girl is my ex girlfriend, but moreso. . .my person, my platonic soul mate, my best friend. We are all friends and I consider them family. I’m 100% sure he would allow her to sleep next to me that night and I’m partially sure he would let her hold me till I fell asleep that night, given the circumstances and the fact that I do not have a partner to do that nor do I have my therapy dog here to do that for me. . .which kills me. I’m missing having both at this hard time in my life. I will be getting Echo soon, but I probably won’t be getting a girlfriend or two any time soon. Especially not before my grandparents pass on...........sigh. So I need SOMEONE to hold me while I fall asleep that night. . .and I hope that my person will do it.

At least. . .this is all in theory how I am going to react. I don’t actually know. It could go the opposite and I could end up being completely silent, getting angry at her and everyone else, and shutting out the world in my room in the front room and just asking everyone to leave me alone for the day and to not get offended when I ignore each and every one of them. Or maybe it’ll be a mixture of both. One first, the other late. Or back and forth, back and forth, mood swings. . .? I just don’t know. I have NO CLUE.

But you’re definitely right. Surrounding myself with loved ones is the most important thing. I want my mom to be apart of this and I want to be able to support her but I probably won’t even get to see her until the funeral. . .if I can even make it.

Okay. . .well. . .now that I’ve exhausted topics to go on LONG tangents about. . .. . I’m gonna stop ranting now. . .I really do think I’ve exhausted my distraction topics. . .

Thank you SO SO SO much for sending this to me. You have no idea how much it meant to me to get this yesterday. Seriously. You are a godsend. I do not know how to thank you. <3

#submission #death

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protecteugeneporter · 7 years ago

Text

Unspoken || Eugene x Reader

@kallaralda requested:

reader joined group not long before Alexandria; Eugene obviously infatuated; (she is, too) but holds back due to him not being the 'heroic protective type' and she recently lost loved one(s) because they were weak and she couldn't protect them at all times (guilt/afraid to repeat loss); at Deanna's party she gets tipsy w/her homie Tara and kinda spills the beans/coming onto Eugene.

Summary: Basically that ^^, the reader and Eugene have feelings for each other that neither of them has acknowledged. Both have to be pushed a little bit to face up to the facts. Just a lot of fluff, no smut on this one.

The road’s been a long one. Every day that you manage to successfully get up out of bed without a crushing sense of grief or self-loathing is one you consider to be a success. Somedays it feels like it gets easier, and it might go on like that for a time, until the day comes that it’s as if she’s died all over again and you can’t bear to move. You wouldn’t want anyone to see you sob anyhow, and thankfully you have privacy enough now to keep it hidden.

On days that you can’t come out you’ll hear a knock at your door and be met with a new boardgame or book or something that’ll occupy your fingers and mind for the day when manual labor can’t. You were suspicious when this initially happened and the board game that met you was Risk, something you and Eugene had talked about at length once. It was doubly telling that he showed up later to check on you and managed to talk you into a game with him. Or two.

You knew for certain it was him when Vonda N. McIntyre’s Dreamsnake was left waiting for you at the door. Naught but a day ago he had been telling you that if you liked reading sci-fi, she was the author to check out- if you hadn’t already. Eugene had seen to it and you were grateful for the distraction. Huddled in bed with red eyes and tissues, reading about Snake the healer, you wondered that she wasn’t working her magic on you and your grief. Or, perhaps, that Eugene was. A warm feeling pooled in your stomach at that.

Is there something going on here? It’s a question you’ve found yourself contemplating about your friendship with Eugene more than once. You take a special enjoyment in his company, in the mutual interests you both can talk about that you can’t with anyone else- that you haven’t been able to in years, really. If ever. There’s something endearing about him that touches you deeper than friendship normally would and so you just have to wonder.

You have to wonder too if that sort of thing would even be on his radar. There seems to be a very strong possibility a confession to him about this might scare him away completely. You just don’t know and, for this reason, you try not to think of him in these terms, but it’s getting harder everyday to think of him as anything but. How did this even happen...?

Of course, you have other friends- Tara, being a close one. She understands what it’s like to lose a sister and it’s on this point that you two have commiserated before. She’s advised you that you just have to take it one day at a time with your grief, and that’s what you do to the best of your ability. It’s with her that you spend your time during the welcome party thing at Deanna’s, because it seems everyone else is part of a coupling and you think even if you sought out Eugene it might be kind of awkward at this weird, couples-only retreat kind of feel this whole thing has.

Tara feels similarly, so you both make off with a large bottle of wine onto the porch swing outside. It feels nice to sit in the calm, cool quiet of the evening and laugh together. If not for the huge, metal walls encasing the place it would almost feel as if nothing in the world had changed. You’ve learned to treasure moments of normalcy like this.

Somehow the conversation switches to a matter you hadn’t intended to discuss, but you’re several glasses into this bottle now, and well...forbearance really isn’t on the menu.

“Of course, it’s nothing like the huge crush Eugene has on you. I mean, jesus, you’d think it was middle school all over again.”

Whatever she was comparing said crush to you already forgot, as instead you begin to choke on and splutter out your wine.

“Sorry, what did you say...?”

Tara’s got the very telling deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Uh...! Shit, I wasn’t supposed to tell.”

“Well the cat’s out of the bag now, so...come on, tell me, how long has this been going on?”

Tara thinks a moment and you can see the gears working in her head as she rifles through the wobbly, somewhat blurry timeline that has been your journey here. It’s hard to even remember what day it is sometimes, so you’re patient.

“Uhh...hard to say, really. I think I weaseled the truth out of him not long before we got here, but I’d bet money he’s been holding a torch for you longer than that. Sorry. Please don’t tell him I told you?”

You can’t help or even remotely stifle the grin that this revelation has elicited, indicating to Tara that an apology isn’t required here whatsoever. Your dopey grin isn’t lost on her.

“Oh my god... do you have feelings for him too?” Tara’s grinning now just as much, though in a more devious way that makes you nervous. She’s not thinking of playing matchmaker is she?

“You know, I-...yeah. Yeah, I think I do.” You admit, though you’re trying to play it cool and coy even as your smile still betrays you.

“Well, what the fuck, what’ve you guys been waiting for?”

You sigh and rest your head on your hand, though you look more wistful than annoyed. “It’s not that simple, Tara...”

Tara’s having none of your flimsy excuses.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but society as we knew it has collapsed and the dead are walking the earth. Chances of long term survival out here are decidedly remote. Trust me, it is that simple. It is now. You have to tell people how you feel, while the opportunity is there.”

Tara’s tugged at something deep within you that you didn’t realize wouldn’t hurt as much as it does. You try to keep your shit together but the reminder of what you didn’t do before your sister was taken by Walkers is too much to deal with. You excuse yourself and head back home, Tara calling after you in confusion.

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

You hate yourself for how this is propelled you into another unproductive day, wallowing in bed (well, the wine had something to do with that too, of course). Your head hurts and your stomach aches and crying really isn’t helping your hangover dehydration, but you can’t seem to stop. At least the room is dark, right?

You didn’t expect to hear the sound of feet coming up the stairs and the top floor, so you power through your aching to sit up, turn on the light and grab the gun you keep under the bed and point it at whoever comes through the door.

“No, no, no it’s just me, don’t shoot-!”

You don’t suppose the paperback novel Eugene seems to be hiding behind is going to do much good, but you’re too startled to see him to make a snide comment to this effect.

“Eugene...! What are you doing here...?”

Your heart begins to race a bit. No matter how much wine you might have had you haven’t forgotten the conversation between yourself and Tara.

“...my apologies for the intrusion...” Eugene attempts, once he’s ascertained that you’ve put the gun down. “You weren’t answering the door and said door happened to be open- normally, I wouldn’t exploit this fact but I was alerted of the fact earlier that you left Deanna’s party in something of an upset, so I felt I’d be remiss and not a very good friend if I didn’t take the liberty of a welfare check.”

You slink back down into your covers.

“...you should know it’s not like that. I mean, I’m sad, quite possibly depressed but-” You know it’s unnecessary, but you’re ashamed even so.

“Yes, I do know that, but...fact of the matter is, I was concerned even so and would continue to be until I heard otherwise from you. Also...I happen to come bearing gifts.”

He hands over Heinlein’s Time for the Stars with an apologetic explanation of, “This one gets a little technically incestuous, but that’s just par for the course to those of us that enjoyed Game of Thrones. Also, Heinlein’s a must where concerns the genre.”

You smile weakly up at him and hug the book to your chest, content notwithstanding. “Thanks, Eugene.”

He nods and stands there a moment, somewhat awkward, while you go over in your mind the pros and cons of bringing up what you and Tara had discussed earlier. After a time he excuses himself quickly and makes to leave, but you manage to get a hold of his wrist.

“I know you have things to do today, I just...hoped we could talk.”

He nods, amenable, and you invite him to have a seat beside you on the bed.

“Tara and I were talking last night...” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “Some things were said under the influence of wine that...maybe shouldn’t have been, but, well...the deed is done, as it were.”

His eyes get a bit wider and there’s a definite flush to his cheeks. It would seem he’s , at least in part, already ascertained what it is you’re going to say.

“Well, it’s just...she mentioned that-...you might have feelings for me...?”

Eugene’s not able to hold eye contact with you anymore and instead looks sheepishly down at the floor, working his jaw nervously.

“I have...strong feelings of friendly affection, as I’m sure we both do-”

“No, no. You know what I mean.”

He’s growing more visibly upset by the minute, ever eager, you guess, to escape this situation.

“If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather we not discuss it,” he says, his voice firm even if he still can’t make eye contact. “I’ve been down this road before, too many times to count but enough to know exactly how this will pan out without having to relive the embarrassment and disappointment seemingly on repeat.”

“Eugene-”

“While you value me very much as a friend you don’t and never will see me in any light other than the aforementioned. You don’t want to hurt me, but you have to be honest. I know. It’s the same every time. I had just hoped we could perhaps rise above the trite and cliched and pretend things are business as usual without skipping a beat. But if you feel it’s necessary to walk me through that which I am very familiar, please do so quickly as Deanna has a schedule for me to stick to.”

“Eugene...!” You all but shout, sitting up to grab a hold of his arm. “I feel the same.”

He’s slightly confused but decides to fave a more pessimistic interpretation of what you’ve said and replies, “I’m glad we understand each other, then.”

“No, no! Oh, for godssake...”

There’s nothing for it but to kiss him, really, and you’re more than happy to oblige, so you move forward to do just that. It’s quick and gentle at first, a short burst of elation in the pit of your stomach. Pulling back, you see him only staring back at you, stunned, speechless.

“Like I said,” you remind him. “I feel the same.”

He stares at you a moment, stunned, before managing a shaky, “Oh...”

You smile at him, warm and reassuring and pull him gently towards you. “Do you have to leave now...?”

He probably does, but the concern that was there earlier for keeping to a schedule is mysteriously gone.

“Not necessarily...I wager I could spare a quarter of an hour or so.”

“Then stay with me,” you suggest. “Just for a little while.”

Eugene is more than happy to oblige. You lay down with him and wrap his arm around your waist. It’s so much better to have someone here that you trust so completely. It doesn’t hurt that he’s warm and solid, too. He seems unsure at first of where to put his hands or how, but when you lace your fingers with his all feels right and natural between you both.

Neither of you has any idea where this will lead, how long it’ll last, but you learned long ago to stop asking yourself those questions. Life is for the living, life is right now- and right now, you’re both lucky enough to be spending the present moment in each other’s arms.

#eugene porter #eugene porter x reader #imagines

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thi5mu5tb3th3pl4ce · 6 years ago

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🍌5.04 beware of a lil sadness

I could feel my eyes glistening as I read your descriptions of the films you just watched. I would have enjoyed watching every minute of both films, even more so with you beside me. I’m really glad you enjoyed them and were able to pick up great insights. I definitely agree on what you said about Filipinos vs. Filipino-Americans—there is, also figuratively, a world of difference. I was reminded of the problem I had with “Crazy Rich Asians”. The portrayal of Asians there will always horrifyingly unrealistic, because the writer was Asian-American and no matter how much they want to fight for visibility, at the end of the day, they did not work hard enough to achieve authenticity. Probably a result of innate entitlement brought by their American half. Or maybe I’m just a hater.

This day was not great. It does not come naturally for me to speak accurately about how I feel whenever the feeling is anything sad. I am realizing now that in the past few years, I have lost the ability to allow myself to be that comfortable around people. I wanted to talk about it with you on the phone, but all I could do was tear up several times, tell you how much I missed you, and change the topic. I would be on the brink of saying something about it, but a voice in my head would go, “Don’t ruin a nice trip.” But I know you, you are always so ready to be there for me and protect me from my own irrational, anxiety-driven thoughts. Still, at least through typing this, you have the option of reading this at a better time, maybe at the end of the day when you are home and resting and not first thing in the morning.

Nothing terrible happened, I just felt like I was covered in a blanket of mild depression as I woke up. Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was the mood swings brought by my period. But I know now that it is because of something deeper. Talking to you for a bit and seeing you gave me ease in that moment.

I went out for a jog because I thought it could bring my temperature down. Subconsciously, though, it may have been for a different reason. My Tita was having breakfast with my mom when I went downstairs. The last time I saw her was in 2017. She pointed out how I was much thinner back then. Although she didn’t mean it in a bad way, nor is that generally supposed to be a true insult, for some reason I found myself sprinting around the UP oval despite having a 38.2 degree fever. I hate it. Why did I let her do that to me? Why would I let anyone do that to me? It reminded me of a time a few years ago when I overheard a bunch of actors “ranking” the women in the crew, and when someone mentioned my name, one of them said “hindi talaga siya maganda, eh” and I pretended not to care. If I really didn’t care, why did I completely change my hair and start to wear more makeup soon after that day? I hate this. At the end of the day, the way I look should be the least of my problems. I don’t even know why I devoted a whole paragraph to this. Maybe it’s my super-secret, very deep insecurity (which I shared with you) of not being ____ enough. This goes beyond my appearance. I should stop worrying about that.

I realized the true reason for my sadness when we drove past the gates of the cemetery. It’s that time of the year....a year ago, I was in grief. What’s fucked up is that maybe I actually wasn’t, I was burying it deep down under a pile of work and a responsibility to be the one consoling my mother and my brother (who was my Lola’s favorite).

My Lola died first, then Nana died a few months later in July. Two mother figures I have lived with since birth died in one year, and I feel like I haven’t cried about it enough to this day.

I had a vision as a drove into the cemetery. About a year ago on the morning of my Lola’s funeral, my mom told me she couldn’t bring herself to do the eulogy. My brother can never be bothered to do anything like that. I had to do it. I did not want to fucking do it, I was not prepared. But I had to.

While everyone was preparing for the mass, I went out of the chapel (which was by the entrance of the cemetery) and walked around the entire park out of nervousness. I was walking around and pacing like an idiot. I was trying to memorize the speech I had typed in my phone in bullet points. My feet were taking me somewhere but my mind was in panic mode, trying to make sure I would be concise in whatever I had to say. I was looking down at my feet the whole time I was walking and thinking. I eventually looked up and found myself at the other end of the park, at my Lolo’s grave. My Lola was to be buried beside him there.

I walked back, gave the speech, it went okay. I was not satisfied but I was definitely glad it was over.

Just a month later, Nana went from a strong, feisty old lady to being weak and immobile. She started going in and out of the hospital, and I would be the one driving. She took care of my mom since birth, and she took care of my brother and I the same way. When my parents split up and times were hard, we didn’t need to spend on maids to take care of us and the house because we had Nana. Our family was indebted to her in ways that can be too painful to grasp now that she is gone.

She saw me through different phases of my life, especially the worst ones. She would open the gate for me at 4am, either drunk or wired. She would ask me where I had been and I would lie to her every single time.

I remember when we were asking each other those questions when you slept over one time, and one of them was “What was the saddest day of your life?” I answered my suicide attempt, but honestly, that was only second. The saddest moment of my life has yet to uncover and process fully. These memories of last year are still buried deep, and I haven’t been able to talk about any of this with any friend (except for Celest, but even with her, everything I told her was just at surface-level).

On the last day Nana came home from the hospital, we thought she would be okay. We were already somewhat relieved, as we were on our toes the past few weeks. I came over to where she was staying (just right beside our house, at her sister’s apartment). I knocked on the door and her sister answered. I told her I was gonna come by to see her before I left for work, and her sister told me not to go upstairs and just come back tomorrow because she looked tired (after work, I had plans to go to Fete with Sel). I didn’t bother insisting, I just immediately ran to work.

At Fete, an hour in to my 1/4acid trip, I got a call from my mom. Nana had died. I could have seen her for one last time that morning, but I chose not to.

I am confident that getting my heart broken in any form will never hurt as bad as this. My heart was broken, and it will always be.

I couldn’t cry during Fete. Things never process immediately for me. We left and just spent the rest of the night at our friend’s house in Antipolo. I cried like a baby when I got home, and woke up with my eyes thrice its size.

I wrote and posted an entry that night (I took it down right away).

Lost 2 moms already this year, my lola died a few months ago, and in the middle of Fete tonight I got a call that Nana was gone too. She took care of me since literally the day I was born. From every day that I was playing in her room when I was a kid, to my pissy pre-pubescent days, to my fucked up college days, to whoever the fuck I am right now. I still aint fuckin shit and she didn’t even live to see me in a nice version of myself, and a nice version of myself would have been the most proper way to say thank you to her for her literal blood, sweat and tears for me and my family. Hating yourself or obsessing over how inadequate you are isn’t an excuse to just sit there. You have to do better. It’s not for yourself anymore. It’s so you can present yourself to the people who raised you and those who love and care for you in a way that reflects how good they were to you. It’s for them. Just do better.

Most of my regrets come from my grief. I feel stuck in a limbo of grieving and feeling numb. So today, yes, it must have been the fever or the PMS, but more than either of that, it is the fact that it is only after a year that I am realizing that I am not okay.

If I knew you at the time, I’m sure I would have behaved differently. I would have allowed myself to feel because you would bug me to. Instead, I was tied to a now-irrelevant man who not only failed to help, but made everything worse.

I’m sorry for the length and the tone. All of this was basically a summary of my day—my brain getting lost in painful memories I refused to go back to, on top of other relatively trivial matters, like future unemployment and just not being satisfied with myself at all. I genuinely thought it was PMS, though. Its effects on my mood can get to horrible lengths. My suicide attempt was on the third day of my period. Not that I will kill myself, it’s just that I am at my most unstable at this time of the month. But I promise I try my hardest to make it out alive, no matter how deep I am buried in darkness.

My crewmates will be invading my house in a few hours. I guess this could be a good thing. After all, they were there for me last year more than my ex was. We shot a lot of sequences at my Lola’s house when we couldn’t find any other location. They appreciated her, and they also were able to meet Nana several times. Perhaps they are who I need to be with tonight, instead of getting drunk on my own.

I hope the beauty of being in a festival celebrating my favorite medium (*CINEMAAAAHHHH*) and the pride of seeing your music videos screen in front of an audience will lift you up from this very pensive entry. I know it will for me. I am extremely proud of you. If I were there, my eyes would be filled with stars watching your video play, and watching you watch it play.

The only thing reeling me out of my terrible memories is the present moment of being in love with you. A day will never me completely terrible for me because I have you in my life. And with that, I am a much cheesier cloth than you are.

Anna

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redqueenanxiety · 8 years ago

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Modern Red Queen Au Pt1 (Family Business)

A Modern Red Queen AU following a depressed 17-year-old and his summer adventures.

Ugh again? Another wind weaver, personally I wasn't a fan of that house. Sure they were powerful but they're stats pointed to weakness in battle, their special attack and defense were basically nonexistent. Sure they could put up a good fight, but adding a little smog to the air should have them running for the hills.

Why else do you think I choose burner? The stats were amazing the defense and the attack were at their heights. Well if you trained and educated yourself (Which I did) they were at their heights.

I leaned down gracefully, balance is something perfected long ago, keeping my eyes on the concealed enemy, most people didn't travel alone at night but I was well on my way to ranking grandmaster, and Thomas had a band thing tonight, that he couldn't possibly miss. I didn't want to reach this historical achievement without an audience but, it was Tuesday and experience was doubled on Tuesdays!

I smiled as a small fizzle of heat bloomed from my fingertips setting the grass ablaze. I could already smell the smoke before I saw it. The Wind Weaver had no idea who he was dealing with I was Maven Calore the greatest burner to ever live and today was the day I joined the elites and reached level 95 maxing my experience and claiming the title others would envy for years.

Four seconds had passed roughly nine to go before the smoke would begin affecting the Wind Weaver abilities and I'd go in for the kill, actually, no If I powered up my ember to exterminate him I'd get triple the XP. I'd make sure to message him thanking him for the easy experience points, he'd probably be demoted, the more I'd get the more he loses. Thomas was gonna be so jealous, I thought with a smirk.

A faint knock rang throughout the forever dead silent house. The Room chilled.

"Maven, We have visitors get your ass down here!" Mother's voice rang, cold as ice

Shit, not now, why now?This was the worst time possible time. I was so close.

"You better be down here before I open the door, You know who it is, and your hair better be combed."

"In, ah s-second-"I stammered The grass began smoking, 57 more seconds before his wind weaving was rendered useless, 39 more till my ember finished powering up. I'm sure dad could wait.

"No I gave you orders, and you will follow them" She barked, slamming my door open. There she stood in all her glory. Porcelain pale skin to match my own, covered in a deep blue strapless dress to frame her flawless hourglass figure topped with Fine Blond hair braided into an intricate bun, that must've taken hours, with piercing blue eyes. "HOW DARE YOU?"

She probably wasn't too pleased to see her 17-year-old son still in his briefs crumpled over his computer with his school clothes littered everywhere. "I-I can explain-"

I half expected her face to turn red from anger to match her expression like normal people, but mother, wasn't normal, she doesn't get embarrassed or mad just... clever. She was smart like that always getting what she wanted. She simply held out her hand, irritation radiating from her ice cold eyes.

"Please" I huffed "Just nineteen more seconds" Last time she took my keyboard I didn't get it back until four months later which was Christmas.

"Make yourself presentable." She said marching over to rip the keyboard from my desktop in the process, knocking over my limited edition 1989 model of mega man, Thomas had savaged the world for my 16th birthday gift. "You disgust me," was all she said with the slam of the door

Another knock rang through the house followed by mothers hurried footsteps.

I didn't care though, the world didn't matter as I knelt down to pick up the beautifully sculpted figure. Tears filled my eyes as I crumpled in on myself. It had dented. I sat there staring at the thing. It had taken Thomas 2 years to find the damn thing and cost 745.78$ plus shipping from Japan.

I heard another "Maven" Mother's voice again, but more playful, like she hadn't just disrespected my whole being. She'd yanked my keyboard so hard the jack had imploded.

"Mavey?" Cal's voice., No, not now. I was expected Father and his wife, but Cal was too much. I Can't not now. Cal's outburst was followed by footsteps. He was coming.

Crying won't help Mave, so don't start.

No, I refuse to do this right now, Go Away. I commanded I would not entertain these voices anymore. I refuse to.Schizophrenia. That's what she called it. A wild combination of imagination and hallucination drilled into my head. I could control it, I would control it. At least in the presence of Cal.

I slowly pulled myself together, finally convincing myself to pull on some pants and tuck in my shirt. I worked quickly and quietly, Mother was going to be ballistic after dinner. My hair was a tousled mess but more often than not so was Cal's so that shouldn't be too big of an embarrassment during dinner. Now time for the hard part, shoes or no shoes? We were staying home so was there really a point in wearing shoes or formal clothing?

But this was father we were talking about, sometimes I wouldn't eat dinner at all, so it obviously wasn't as sacred to her as it was to father. She was rarely home after all.

My eyes rose to find Cal standing at the door, barefoot as a child, so that answered my question. He looked nice. Why was I not surprised he was wearing simple jeans and a sweater vest that hugged his sculpted muscular form.

Cal looked like my father with his strong angular jaw and rustic amber eyes. We'd both gotten our black fine curls from my father. I could probably achieve the light caramel tan that highlighted his cheekbones if I actually went outside or just took off my hoodie. But my hoodie was my shell, my home, and protection.

He smiled down at me, dazzling as always. He had the same smile girls would stand in line for miles to see, I'd probably stand in line too if he wasn't my brother, Thomas definitely would with me, it's all he ever talked about.

I smiled right back lifting myself off my newly made bed.

"Mavey" He breathed as If he couldn't believe we were actually seeing each other face to face in real life. He'd spent the last six months studying abroad in Tiraxes, some ridiculously preppy school he attempted to talk me into every time we made eye contact. In fact, I was slightly surprised he hasn't started going on about it. "Long time no see," He said with a bigger smile flashing teeth. I wonder if he was doing that on purpose or if he knew he was doing it at all, did some people have to try to be more heartbreaking beautiful?

"Good to see you too," I wasn't exactly sure if It was good to see him, Him being back in Norta meant much more distractions. Tiraxes has a different school year schedule then Norta does like any other state, so I was still in school while he'd been dismissed for summer. Cal wasn't one to respect that, what if he picked me up for early dismissal during Civics and I missed Calculus? I swear if he interfered with my perfect record I would eat him. "I bet you've got so many new stories to tell,"

"Not as many as you've got, man I miss high school," He said a dreamy look crossing his face, it seemed like just two weeks ago when we were sitting at his graduation then sending him off three states down for college.

"Why would you ever-"

" Amaranthus University (AU)is filled with people that are there on scholarships, so their ridiculously academically focused and you know I never really fit in with that crowd, you'd probably like it there, they've got an excellent science community and an astounding engineering community, which is pretty fun..." He said cutting himself off, "But it's still pretty lonely..."

"Oh" I didn't know what to say, Cal and I were never ones to talk about our feelings, we were half-brothers after all. We didn't even live together, sure when he was in high school we saw each other more, but he was a band kid and I an orchestra. He graduated as Section Leader of the Bassoon's, while I'd still been working my way up to concert master.

He looked like he wanted to say more, or maybe he wanted me to say more, maybe I wanted to say more. Maybe I should've? I would've opened my mouth to say more. "Oh" didn't seem to cover it but was gladly interrupted by another shrill of Mother's fake laughter, bringing us back to the present.

"Hope, they haven't started dinner without us," I said taking a step towards Cal and the door, he hadn't moved an inch. Standing perfectly still, something about my Mother made him uncomfortable, no unsteady, on high alert all the time, even as children at our birthday parties.

"Doesn't seem like something Mom would do, She loves family time." He said with a smirk, waiting for me to join him in the hall where we would venture down the stairs.

Cal may have been a bit taller than me but I didn't have to strain to catch up. I spent my whole life chasing after him and somehow didn't get completely left behind.

It didn't take long for us to find the stairs, our house was big but not as big as Mother wanted it. There they stood at the door of the just newly cleaned foyer. Father looked nice today, with his freshly trimmed beard and eyebrows. Cal and him must've planned this, matching sweater vest with a slightly different color scheme. He held something in hands, wrapped up nice and neat in a startling shade of red wrapping paper, a present, It wasn't too big but nicely sized.

Standing by his side stood his wife in a monotone shade of gray was Coriane Calore. Cal didn't take after her in body type but she did give him his soft innocent smile that was impossible to win an argument against. Everything about her seemed soft from her almost grey-blue eyes to her faint curves. Cal looked so delighted to see her his face lighting up in any way possible "Mom made Haggis!" He said with a smile.

I gave him a silent smile as we approached, noting the tin foil tray Coriane held with pride, she smiled at her boy. Her pride and joy."Cal helped," She said with a smile, beaming at her son. I've only heard rumors but apparently, she suffered many miscarriages before having Cal, no wonder she loved him so much or maybe that's just the way all parents should feel about their children. Everyone I met had different experiences.

Mother surveyed my appearance before Father closed me in for a hug, He was working on his weight trying to live a healthier life while trying to recover from his darker times. I knew he sometimes went back to them, they all did. Mother kept track of the rehab appointments he made along with Coriane's and Cal's therapist appointments. Even with him in Tiraxus he couldn't escape her prying eyes.

"How's life been treating you, Son? Your mother tells me your academic career is going great." He says finally releasing me.

"Not to mention he's nearly worked his way up to Concert Master" Mother pipes in proudly before I can open my mouth and speak for myself.

"Nearly" I coughed shyly, I loved playing, violin. But it was taking up one of my elective slots and there were other things I'd rather do like Desktop Publishing and maybe Psychology. Maybe after I achieved that she'd let my quit, besides Orchestra was something I could do outside of school.

"I wouldn't be surprised if you graduated early, with a full scholarship considering your grades." He said clapping me on the shoulder. Scholarship? it's not like we needed one Father is loaded. I'm guessing he only wanted it for bragging fuel considering Cal wasn't the best in the academic department.

"Who knows maybe you'll be in one of Junior's Class one day" He said playfully rolling his eyes at Cal. Tiberius had never been a fan of being called junior and neither had his mother so they substituted his name with Cal, but Father did let the name slip every now and again. Especially in front of Mother.

"Maybe," I said with a shrug, little did he know I had no aspirations of going anywhere near AU. Thomas and I had been talking about a college in Prairie, for years, they had an excellent Engineering And Psychology program for me, with an amazing band program for Thomas. Not to mention they only accepted people on scholarships, so no rich idiots anywhere in sight, not to mention that meant that Thomas' family could afford it, we finally found a way to stay together through college, Mom would approve of me getting into an elite college, whether I was following Thomas or not.

"Is dinner set, I don't want the haggis to grow cold," Coriane chirped from in front of me, pulling me back to the present. Oh yeah, dinner. I almost forgot

"Of course, I've prepared Stollen for desert," Mother says proudly rolling her eyes sizing up Coriane like a predator on prey. While Mom's opinion of Coriane was obvious, while mine were mixed. Our families intertwined history was complex and so long not even I fully understood it. All I knew was Mom caught a newly made father without his newly made wife in the worst possible time...

But that's a story for another time, now it was time for dinner I thought following the four people that impacted my life in more ways than one, into to the dining room.

Forgive me I’m new at this. But Stay tuned for more! (This exact A.U is also available on My Wattpad and AOW if they’re more assessable to you. Parts may or may not be uploaded on wattpad faster)

#red queen #mare barrow #maven calore #marven #calmare #care #victoria aveyard #tiberias calore #cal calore #fanfiction

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babblingbat · 8 years ago

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Sentient Castle AU (Voltron: Legendary Defender)

Basically, I had this idea a few months ago that the Castle is actually aware. It’s designed to learn, and we saw from King Alfor’s A.I. that the Alteans have the technology to make this happen. Anyways, the post is fairly long (read: took me 24 hours to write and get everything to gether from my stray notes to make it even semi coherent), so the bullet points are under the cut.

BASIC PLOT THUS FAR

The Castle starts out as simply being a computer but it learns over time

In the Fall of the Castle of Lions, it feels pain when the Galra crystal takes over

Then it feels guilty because it went against what it was supposed to do (keep the passengers safe and generally don’t be an asshole)

Lance hears the screaming when he’s in the cryo-pod because mind links are everywhere in Voltron for no particular reason, and someone needs to start being aware of the lonely computer

The computer likes to hang out with King Alfor’s A.I. before he goes evil

After Alfor gets deleted, the computer is very lonely because no one talks to it

It decides to help out the Paladins, but before it can do that it (she, I guess, because she’s a ship) needs to Know Things

She starts asking Allura about how emotions work by pretending it’s one of the paladins asking

Allura thinks that it’s Keith because she is 100% certain that he is terrible with feelings and he is also 100% gay

She uses her superb subtlety to try and get the truth from Keith and it goes terribly because he has no idea what she’s talking about

She also wants to know about cooking because that seems like an Organic™ thing to do

Hunk would really like to know who’s asking about his cooking

Whoever it is keeps leaving meals in the kitchen and never eats them

Also she just kind of observes the paladins in general and kind of hijacks the computer systems of any planets they come across to get more information

She is very critical of Shiro’s leadership

After Learning Things, she starts pretending that she has a therapy program in her code

She calls it the Consolation Programme

She mostly talks to Lance and Keith

She is privy to their every thought and just wants to shove them in a closet and make them kiss

She avoids the Alteans because they’ve said that she’s probably a threat

Eventually, Keith mentions the “Consolation Programme” during a meal and the castle is doing the electronic equivalent of hiding curled up in a ball in the corner of the room

“What are you talking about?” snaps Allura. “It isn’t a therapist. It can run programs and analyze things, but it isn’t alive.” “Excuse me, princess, I actually am and that’s really hurtful. Can someone talk to me I’m lonely,” replies the Castle.

Over time, she just starts being everyone’s therapist friend

Hunk and Pidge build robot bodies for her because she wants to be more organic

Their first attempt is terrible

They slowly get better and she starts looking more and more human with each version

She wears clothes that Lance gives her because no one knows how to sew and since they wear clothes she wants to wear them too (she bleaches the clothes because her favorite color is white)

Eventually, they make a White Lion for her. It’s way smaller than any of the other lions, but it accompanies Voltron on missions. It’s mostly used for scouting and that kind of thing.

She has no idea what the gender binary is because it never comes up

After a while of trying to get Keith to open up, she says “Allura is much better at this”

He responds with “it’s different for girls” and she asks what a girl is

The Castle feels really awkward being addressed as the Castle so Lance names her Castillo because the one thing the paladins lack is creativity.

Castillo is completely ignorant of Earth languages, despite knowing upwards of 100 billion languages spread throughout the stars

She claims she can’t control the language learning program (you know, the one with the dangerous holograms) but in truth, she just likes watching people squirm

Castillo actually can control the artificial gravity and anything remotely related to the main computer. Gladiator? Check. Alarms? Check. Lights? Check.

When the Castle-ship is boarded by Galra, she turns off the gravity and just generally screws around with the controls to beat the crap out of them

The paladins are fine because of their jet-packs

In fact, they aren’t even there, it’s just Castillo alone defending one of the major assets of Voltron

Galra!Keith is a thing in this version (although he could also not be; he’s more of a side plot than a major plot point) By Galra I mean actually turning purple and getting ears because it’s confirmed he is Galra so the normal reactions (that appear in show) would probably happen regardless of whether he turns purple or not...

But based on a very lovely post I can’t find this link which I spent twenty minutes looking for, Keith’s Galra genes get kicked into gear after the Blade of Marmora trials

He gets fluffy and now people are doubly suspicious because ANGST

During the last big fight against Zarkon, Castillo fights using the White Lion but hangs back to help Shiro with overcoming Zarkon in the astral plane

90% of Castillo’s power revolves around her mind links and the computer part of her, rather than the combat elements

Shiro still disappears but she can help find him

She gets pissed because she TOLD HIM not to do this shit but here he is, doing this shit

HOW CASTILLO GETS ALONG WITH HER PASSENGERS

Lance

She’s really supportive of him and they both know what it feels like to be overlooked

Lance tells her about Earth, and she tells him about other planets

He’s trying to add Spanish to her language bank, but it isn’t really taking

Castillo is more or less always happy with him because he found the “humanity,” per se, in her before anyone else and gave her a name

She believes in his ability to lead and rarely (if ever) questions his judgment

She validates him and assures him of his worth

She happens to know a lot about depression and anxiety disorders because it was practically an epidemic at one of the planets they visited

Keith

Keith tells her almost everything because he was one of the first people to take advantage of her friend therapy

In return, she listens to him and helps when he’s planning things

She tends to be a bit of a matchmaker and spends a lot of time trying to get him and Lance together

She realizes early on that he’s Galran but chooses not to say anything to him or the team

She wants him to figure things out himself

Except for the Lance thing, because she has determined that it is a 100% certainty that he is too oblivious to even realize the possibility

She knows how to knock him down a peg if he’s acting cruelly or arrogantly without damaging his self-esteem beyond repair although that’s usually more of a problem with Lance

Hunk

Hunk is mostly just casually interested in her, he’s more interested in building a robot body

Castillo cooks with him, often in the middle of the night because computers don’t sleep and paladins of Voltron can’t be counted on to do so either

He sometimes gushes about Shay and Castillo doesn’t know what else to do but make encouraging noises

She spends a lot of her time with him trying to calm him down enough to get him to sleep and stop constantly worrying

He has nightmares (very vivid nightmares) about his friends dying

He’s normally able to dream lucidly, but not in nightmares

She has taught him various things to help him sleep

Pidge

She and Pidge are really good friends, and their conversations are a lot lighter than the ones with Lance and Keith

Pidge taught Castillo most of what she knows about gender

Pidge also helped Hunk out a lot with the robot bodies but spent most of her time figuring out how to integrate the massive consciousness of the castle with a tiny processor

Pidge and Castillo play board games and D&D together. Castillo loves to DM, and Pidge does the craziest things to solve her puzzles

Pidge also has a bunch of old television shows downloaded on her laptop, so she and Castillo watch things like X-Files and MST3K when they can’t sleep and Castillo isn’t baking

Castillo comforts and helps Pidge in any way she can when she (Pidge) is missing her family

Shiro

Castillo doesn’t really like Shiro. She thinks that he does a bad job of leading and is too self-absorbed to pay attention to other people’s problems

She especially despises how he treats Lance and Hunk, so she makes a point of complimenting them and pointing them out around Shiro

She has taught him how to get through his flashbacks without freaking out entirely or shutting down

She is fairly tactical, so she offers up very sound strategies, but he tends to ignore her or not acknowledge that it was her idea

She’s actually trying to figure out how to shut down his arm so that she can force him to learn how to fight without it

She might also be doing it so that she can be spiteful, but she’s not about to admit that

Coran

Castillo is good friends with Coran. Coran is the only one that listens to Castillo’s problems and she appreciates his open-mindedness coupled with his caution

Coran treats her as just another member of their team and acts like the Supportive Uncle for her

Castillo does like pranking people so sometimes she gets into trouble with him

Coran is predominantly curious about how this happened instead of frightened because of his grandfather

Castillo is also good friends with the talking cubes, but they’re simpler than she is

Allura

Their relationship starts out as pretty rocky because Allura doesn’t believe that Castillo is a sentient being at first and then doesn’t really trust her

But after a while, Castillo figures out how to talk to Allura and tells her about her father’s memories

Allura, as we know, loves gossip, so Castillo tells her harmless things like what kind of music Lance listens to

It’s a bit weird for them because Allura is accustomed to controlling the castle and it acting as an appliance, but now she has to get used to Castillo acting autonomously and questioning some of her worse decisions

When Allura is unnecessarily harsh Castillo has nothing against calling her out on it

TBH Castillo doesn’t really recognize royalty

CASTILLO CHARACTER TRAITS

She wants to be as kind as possible, always

However, she has some priorities, like keeping the paladins safe and happy that will turn her into a Rage Machine™ and all that

She adheres to Asimov’s Three Laws of Robotics as her moral code

She wants to fit in with the Paladins and Alteans but knows that she never will because she’s a computer

She’s actually kind of depressed, and sometimes will refuse to talk or just does things without putting a lot of effort into it

She worries about whether or not they’ll shut her down, even though she knows consciously that they value her

Castillo is a she because all ships are, but she’s probably agender

This only serves to make her feel more alienated, but she flat out does not understand the gender binary

She’s sometimes inappropriately mischievous, but she clings to that because it’s a very organic feeling

She makes a lot of bad puns and has a dry sense of humor

Sometimes, however, she is trapped by dad jokes and everything Coran says is funny somehow

She and Keith can have entire conversations sarcastically, and everyone else is five steps behind

She is all for free information and gets in trouble for taking classified documents from random planets

She can be very judgmental and tends to focus on the negatives of people she doesn’t like, making it very difficult for them to redeem themselves

THAT’S ALL I’VE GOT SO FAR BUT I AM WRITING A FIC AND WILL LINK IT LATER ON THANKS FOR READING PLEASE LIKE AND REBLOG (god this sounds like a youtuber fml)

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sini-sterility · 8 years ago

Text

Y’all finally get my backstory now.

@weaponizedhorse I FINISHED FINALLY

Alright motherfuckers, you asked for it; you're gonna fucking get it. You've finally unlocked Sini's tragic backstory.

Let's begin with the childhood depression due to intense emotion abuse and manipulation, causing me to try to kill myself, not once, but twice before the age of ten. However, it seems that my body liked the idea, because within two months of turning ten, my legs began to go numb, and I would experience random pain. I told the nurse at school; she didn't believe me. Stir this mixture of reckless negligence and bitchy old-lady nurse until two years have passed, and I am now completely paralyzed in constant literal agony 24/7, to the extent of not being able to sleep, stand, sit, lounge; you name it.

I wasn't nauseus, but the pain was so horrible that I would fake getting sick every day in order to stay home and not face the ridicule the least liked person in my entire school (I am honestly not exagerrating. I got into my school's spelling bee, and was the last 6th grader standing. They called your name, you stood up, waved to the crowd, and they cheered. They got to me, and I shit you not, less than 1/5th of the 6th grade class, none of the other students, and three teachers clapped, and that was as good as I got. Maybe I was annoying or something, I don't know. I was a very, very quiet kid, so I actually don't know what their deal was; there were much uglier people there than me, too) would get from acting like they can't feel their limbs or stand up, or be constantly hunched over in pain.

So I'd stay home with my dad and watch old cowboy shows, trying to ignore the pain. I remember how we treated it was Icy-Hot and a fuck-ton of Ibuprofen.

Eventually, my bullshit quack of a doctor finally clued in that, no, I was not just suffering from a particularly bad UTI. She actually fucking told us that I had a UTI. Because UTI's are reknown for causing pain so bad you literally can't think straight.

So, one day, a week after my 12th birthday (which was the saddest shit you've ever heard of; my mom made my favorite cake and my favorite food (Flan Cake and Chicken Curry), my Godmother was there with a bunch of books, I had a few really cool presents; my sister Shirley even got me a hair straightener at Goodwill, because I'd finally learned that thick curly hair with the mind of it's own (that mind being one of a psychopath) didn't stand a chance against hot iron. They sang happy birthday to me, and I remember that after they finished, I just put my head down on the table in cried. It was the single saddest moment of my life, aside from April (which is another can of worms all together, and very few people know about it).

Anyway, a few days after my mom took me to the doctor, and at this point I had given up on trying to present any semblence of an ability to walk or feel anything at all, so I was in a wheelchair. The doctor saw how much pain I was in (fucking finally), and that I truly felt no sensation anywhere, and immediately sent me to a Neurologist in Indy.

We got there an hour later, and the Neurologist took one look and ordered an emergency MRI – that turned out to be a very traumatizing experience, as the even more amplified pain (metal + back issues of the highest caliber + loud noises + bright flashing lights = Literal torture. To this day I can't go in MRI machines without being knocked out (But I secretly love it because I get to play a little game I like to call 'Resist'. It's basically the game they have you do where you count up to or down from 100, only you ask the Anesthesiologist to push the anesthetic in as slowly as possible, and start counting. When you start to feel it kicking in, you count as fast as possible. My record is 128 bitches <3).

They were only able to get 15 minutes of an MRI with me, before the panic and pain were too much for me and I started convulsing. After that, they checked me into the hospital overnight while they went over the results.

You know that shit's bad when the next day the ICU Oncologist comes in at 7 am the next morning to tell your mom that you need emergency surgery right away, but don't tell you why.

It turned out that I had stage 4 (better known as terminal) Neuroblastoma. There were three main problematic tumors; one that was slung over my left shoulder and attached to the upper left lobe of my lung (bigass motherfucker holy shit it was enormous. They had to cut out a piece of my lung to get ride of (most) it.), one the size of a softball pressing on my brain, just above the temple (They drilled my skull open, and scooped it off my scalp like a blob of strawberry preserves, which is what it looks like anyway btw. They were nice enough to honor a request I made, and take a picture of the tumor. BUT THEY DIDN'T FUCKING SEND IT TO ME, THEY SENT IT TO MY DAD VIA TEXT, AND WE ENDED UP LOSING THE DAMN THING >:O), and then the worst one; the mac daddy of Neuroblastoma tumors.

It was a long, thick, malignant tumor that had infused itself with my spine, and was subsequently cutting off my spinal cord – thus causing all of the pain and the paralysis and numbness. It gave me a hella sweet scar though, shit looks like a zipper along my spine!

After they removed what they could of the spinal tumor (which still to this day causes me a great deal of pain. I'm on 10 mgs of Oxycodine up to 6 times a day, and more often than not I need 7 pills in one day.), they told my parents that I had maybe two months to live. That they were going to send me home with them with a car full of all the medical supplies they could spare us, and that I was going to be very dead, very soon.

Needless to say, everyone was shocked when the third month rolled around and I was still alive – and learning how to walk again. It's taken me 6 years to be able to walk up and down stairs, and depending on the treatment or how long they keep me in the hospital, I occasionally still need my walker. (Sparkly red thing with little stickers all over it. I think we gave it to my grandma, but I'm not sure?) They upped my prognosis to 6 months and then it would be all over, but by then Obamacare went into effect, and that got the ball rolling for CHIPS, and that little thing that so many Americans hate because they “don't want to pay for a stranger's abortions!” (actual reason I was given once. I know that there are real reasons, but I still am okay with paying a little bit extra each month so that another kid who's like I was six years ago today, might have a chance to beat the odds in an overwhelming way. Again, that's just me, and I'm probably over simplifying the matter.), is most likely the main reason I'm still alive.

See, because I was accepted into two (or maybe three, I'm not sure?) forms of health insurance because of the Obamacare plan, I was able to begin treatments within almost a month of diagnosis. After four months passed, they began to fit and train me to use a wheelchair at home, as it was an impossibility that I would ever walk again (or use fine motor control for that matter).

Two months after that, just six months after being told I was already dead; six months of hellish PT and OT; six months of taking chemo and painkillers and throwing up blood – and I fucking walked out of that God forsaken hospital with my walker and my family.

That was six years ago. My body is still healing, and I've had plenty of physical and psychological horrors since ( ie. Kathleen aka 'The ex that raped me last year', my mother becoming even more abusive towards me, to the point of egging me on in cutting myself, and losing most of my cats because they were outdoor and we weren't around enough for most of them to want to stay, for starters. Fortunately, the one that did stay was my kitty, Alice. She moved into my current house with my dad and I after my dad won sole custody of me during their divorce (those two NEVER should have gotten married, they hate each other so fucking much.), and she's been a driving force in my will to live and fight ever since. The week she went missing was the most miserable week of my life.) the beginning, but I've got something I never had as a child now; a will to live. A reason to live. It's honestly the reason I still believe in God, as twisted as that sounds. I had actually been begging God to just kill me and get it over with in the weeks leading up to my diagnosis, and though it seems like being told you have terminal (which, just incase some of you guys don't know this, does not actually mean that you're totally deadsies; it means that there are no approved treatments or treatments that are proven to be effective, so you have the two options of going home or staying in the hospital while they make you as comfortable as possible as you wait to die a slow, horrible death of cancer; or you subject yourself to potentially deadly, painful, and horrible experimental trials to try and find a cure for yourself and others like you. Guess which one I picked! Ahh, the stories I could tell you... I'd be willing to write another one of these if anyone is interested in my hospital horror stories.) cancer would be your answer in the affirmatory. But for some reason, that's not how I took it. I took it as a sign that I'm supposed to live, at least for as long as I'm needed to do something to make the world better. It sounds crazy; superstitious; egomaniacal to say this, but when I think about everything I've been through, the multiple attempts at killing myself yet living through each time, and the overwhelming feeling I got when I was told I was as good as dead, but I honestly feel like I'm supposed to do something big, even mildly so. I don't know what, but that thought drives me every day to quite literally be that change that I want to see in the world.

I haven't made a suicide attempt ever since diagnosis; I rarely try or succeed to hurt myself anymore, and when I get in that state, my first move is to call up my sister Lilly, or talk to @typical-atheist-scumbag, or even talk to my dad nowadays, rather than just go ahead and grab a razor blade. I'm entirely about absolution and forgiveness as long as a person is genuine, and I try to be as passive and understanding – yet not quite neutral – to other people's beliefs as I possible can be. I stretch myself thin trying to help other people, but I honestly feel all the better for it.

This lovely little “inspirational” (*eyes roll into the back of my head*) piece isn't even half of it, but it's the major stuff. I included that bit at the end to show that even though I've had a pretty bullshit lot in life, I absolutely refuse to let it kick me down.

You may laugh at how stupid and pretentious I sound now.

#inspirational #Sini's Backstory #Cancer #Neuroblastoma #Religion #Religious #Christian #Lutheran #Self harm #Self-Harm #tw #abuse #rape #mental abuse #mental disorder #terminal cancer

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shima-draws · 8 years ago

Note

OH MY GOD those ocs of yours are so cute! Can you tell us more about them??

AAAAA THANK YOU!! And of course I can omg! Sorry for the late response btw typing this out and drawing stuff for it took longer than I originally thought

There’s actually three separate “phases” to their story arc, and during each of these phases their outfits and other things change.

This got to be extremely, extremely long like really REALLY long I am so so so sorrylol so–drawings and explanations are under the cut! :D

All of this is actually the very paraphrased version of what goes down lol. I don’t want to give ALL of my plot points away XD But yeah I have the real long version written out on my computer and it’s around 5k words. Wow.

Okay, let’s begin!

Phase one is the one I mentioned already–Gifre works for an underground crime organization known as the Python’s Blood. This organization is dedicated to research and experimentation on elementals. Thanks to his space elemental powers, he can “portal jump” in order to escape from any threatening situations. This ability to open portals and travel through them is a very rare skill among space elementals. This is extremely useful when he’s out on missions! He’s best at running away. This is the only reason he was allowed into the organization in the first place, because his shapeshifting abilities are…um, a bit lacking. Of course, very few space elementals can shapeshift, but those that can can transform their entire bodies, while Gifre can only change his arm.

Anyway! Meanwhile, we have Elias, who was found as a baby and taken into the guild. (Remember, it’s the sister guild to Shima’s.) Elias grew up with his caretaker who is also an inventor, so he was surrounded with machinery and engines all the time. He fell in love with tinkering and experimenting, and now he’s the guild’s official mechanic! Elias aspires to be just like the legendary inventor and sorcerer Elymas (who is another OC of mine). Elymas created hundreds if not thousands of inventions back in the day that are still being used now, by combining his talents of inventing and elemental magic (this is a very very hard thing to accomplish). He’s a freaking genius, and Elias adores his work.

Here’s phase one Elias! Before he loses his arm lol

Gifre is tasked with infiltrating Elias’ guild to basically keep an eye on all of them. The higher ups refuse to tell him why, but they pay him a lot of money to prevent him from asking questions so he just goes along with it. Gifre visits the guild on a daily basis, taking jobs there and chatting it up with all of the members. And then he meets Elias…and is immediately smitten with him. At first he just pesters him and bothers him with harmless flirting, to which Elias brushes him off, but eventually he develops deep feelings for him. Gifre starts avoiding Elias after overhearing him say he’s too overbearing and annoying, but Elias starts to worry about him after several weeks pass without him showing up. Gifre apologizes to Elias for his behavior, and they start acting better to each other. Slowly but surely as Gifre reveals more and more of his true character, Elias starts to fall in love with him as well…Gifre doesn’t notice of course lol, but he is happier about them becoming closer!

Skip ahead a month or two. The leaders of Python’s Blood reveal their true intentions for sending Gifre there…and they want Elias. Gifre of course is absolutely shellshocked and refuses to capture him (because he’s head over heels for the idiot, he’s not gonna give him up like that ya know). They decide they’re not gonna put up with Gifre’s shit and knock him out. When he wakes back up Gifre discovers they’ve kidnapped Elias and are preparing to begin an experiment on him. They reveal to Gifre what their plans are because they’re going to kill him shortly (because he basically betrayed them and he knows too much of their secrets). Turns out that Elias is actually an invention made by Elymas. Crazy, right? Elias isn’t entirely human, but he’s not completely “robot” either. So…it’s an inbetween sort of thing, and a bit hard to explain lol. But he functions just like a human and acts like a human, so nobody was ever able to tell the difference. Python’s Blood wants to take a sample of Elias and use it to create their own artificial humans, so they cut off his arm as the sample ;w; And that’s how Elias looses his arm. RIP. So then after an epic battle and rescue mission by the members of the guild, Elias and Gifre are brought back to the guild. Fast forward a couple weeks–Elias is almost completely recovered and is working on building himself a prosthetic arm. Gifre tells Elias he’s going to go on a journey of self-discovery, some cheesy cliche crap like that lol. Elias begs him not to go and asks him to officially join the guild, and Gifre says he will when he returns. He leaves, and that’s the end of phase one! Phewww!

Now for phase two! It takes place a year or two after phase one. Gifre’s “journey of self-discovery” is actually more of a manhunt. He’s going after members of Python’s Blood, trying to shut their operations down. He calls himself the Python Hunter, and he has a really nifty tattoo and his hair is grown out so he puts it up in a little ponytail. Every now and then he sends letters to Elias to keep him updated.

And here’s what phase two Gifre looks like ;D

On Elias’ end of things, he’s pretty damn lonely without Gifre there. He gets letters of course, but he isn’t allowed to respond to them (safety reasons on both ends). Several of his guildmates come and try to cheer him up by showing him a flier for a robotics competition. Having nothing better to do, Elias decides to enter it and participate. He goes through several ideas that don’t work out, and after getting some advice from his best friend and fellow mechanic, Ava, about creating something inspiring, he decides to make a robotic version of Gifre, since Gifre inspires him the most (and he misses him severely). After a couple months and several tests, Gifre-bot is brought to life! (Gi-bot or Gibo for short hehe.) And I’ve already posted stuff about Gi-bot, so yeah :D

And this is what Ava looks like!

Now, unlike his original inspiration Gi-bot is stubborn, a trickster and absolutely refuses to speak, just to spite Elias lol. Gi-bot can speak but prefers not to, he’s pretty silent, unlike Gifre who enjoys talking. Gi-bot mainly uses tons of robotic noises to communicate–chirps, whirs, clanks, you name it. Gi-bot also extremely protective of Elias, and the only people he’ll let near him are a very few friends from the guild, otherwise anyone else who tries to talk to him gets growled at. He’s not the nicest robot around, he’s a bit of a hostile one. Elias tries to fix this but realizes this is just part of Gi-bot’s personality as a whole. Gi-bot has a lot of problems at first, like his fascination with water always shorting out his systems (he goes out in the rain several times and comes back with oil spurting out of his body, and his body itself starts to short-circuit and release little electric charges, which sometimes shocks Elias), and not listening to Elias’ directions all the time, and destroying any other inventions that may threaten his purpose…but eventually they come to an understanding, and Elias becomes very very fond of Gi-bot and vice versa. Gi-bot is actually revealed to have a very caring side, such as looking out for Elias when he’s not paying attention, and does several things to cheer him up when he’s depressed. One of my favorite scenes between the two of them is when Elias is having a really rough day, so Gi-bot and Ava team up (despite the fact that they kinda hate each other and are always getting into spats with each other lmfao) to cheer him up! Ava borrows an old phonograph and plays a song, which coincidentally is a song Gifre used to sing to Elias sometimes back in phase one. Gi-bot sings along with it, as best as he can without actually speaking lol, and dances with Elias. Elias gets super emotional and starts crying and the two of them flip out, Gi-bot gets angry at Ava since it was her idea and she apologizes, “I didn’t think it would make him sob like a baby! Geez!” Elias tells them how happy he is, and they spend the rest of the day all dancing together~ Lol they’re like my friendship OT3. Elias, Gi-bot and Ava

As for the competition! They enter that, of course. I’m not going to go into too much detail about that, but I can say Elias and Gifre do very well and impress the judges during every round, even though Elias almost fails the first round since Gi-bot decides to be a little shit and doesn’t listen to anything he tells him to do. But when Gi-bot notices people making fun of Elias for making a faulty creation, and Elias being the sweetheart he is is almost in tears, he gets pissed and shows off what he can do, impressing the judges and everyone in the room basically. (Then he gives El a big smooch on the cheek just to embarrass him and get him to stop crying lmfao) While the judges are blown away, some of the other competitors find this to be totally stupid and grow jealous of Elias. After the second round is over (they pass, of course) some of the others manage to get Elias alone while Gi-bot is getting a checkup from the robotics committee or whatever. They all start insulting Elias, accusing him of cheating and bribing the judges. One guy gets super pissed off since Elias denies all that, and tries to sic his own robot on him. Luckily Gi-bot comes to the rescue just in time! But he gets horribly “injured” and is in dire need of repairs. Elias is in tears, Ava is terrifyingly angry and threatens to tear the dude’s head off, and after the whole situation dies down the guy gets disqualified for trying to injure another competitor and for ruining Elias’ robot. Once Gi-bot is completely fine, Elias tells him that he’s dropping out of the competition, afraid that Gi-bot is going to get hurt again. Gi-bot gets upset and insists that they keep going, and eventually with enough persuasion Elias agrees, and then they pass round three and are up for round four! But before Elias and Gi-bot can think of something to do, out of nowhere someone arrives and kidnaps Elias in the middle of the night. Gi-bot comes online after hearing the commotion and manages to follow them to where they’re going just in time…

Back to Gifre! When he hears the news that Elias has been captured (again!) he discovers that it’s not actually Python’s Blood who kidnapped him, but something entirely different. One thing leads to another and Gifre actually ends up meeting and teaming up with Elymas (who is still alive after half a millenia–he’s a brilliant sorcerer, so of course he knows how to prolong his life). They find out that Elias has been taken into the Mirrorplane, an invention created by Elymas. So the second half of phase 2 is basically about Gifre and Elymas’ adventures in the Mirrorplane trying to save Elias! (Technically this should really be phase 3, maybe I’ll change that lol)

And this is what Elymas looks like c: He’s the best cutie sorcerer njgfnjgnfj

On Elias’ side of things, he meets the Mirrorplane version of Gifre, and is tricked into believing that he’s the real Gifre. Gi-bot apparently malfunctioned, so he’s off being fixed somewhere. Elias worries for him. Of course after seeing the other inhabitants of the Mirrorplane and how different they are from the counterparts he knows, Elias eventually realizes that Mirror!Gifre isn’t the one he knows and loves. Elias tries to escape from him, but unfortunately Mirror!Gifre has developed a very unhealthy and possessive obsession of him and absolutely refuses to let him go. He sets up his sentry robot, Mirror!Gi-bot, or going by his nickname, Error. Error was originally created to be a fighting robot, but did not obey any of M!Gifre’s orders and there are tons of flaws and errors in his system (hence the nickname). He’s actually very gentle and not as hostile as the original Gi-bot, and he is tasked with watching over Elias whenever Mirror!Gifre isn’t around. Soon, through some coaxing, Elias comes to discover that Mirror!Elias is dead, and has been for a very long time. Mirror!Gifre didn’t even have the opportunity to meet him, for he died years and years before he was even born (remember, Elias was created by Elymas, so Mirror!Elias was probably also created by Mirror!Elymas but did not survive…) Mirror!Gifre begs him to stay in the Mirrorplane, having been watching him for quite some time from inside that world, and only wanting his happiness. He had seen how upset and depressed Elias became after Gifre left, and promises him he won’t ever leave him and will always stay by his side, sappy crap like that lol. Elias hesitantly agrees to a sort of bet with him to get him to shut up (“If your Gifre doesn’t come to get you by the end of the week, you stay with me forever”). Elias feels really bad for the guy, because he has a very compassionate nature;; At the end of the week, Gifre miraculously shows up with Elymas in tow. Mirror!Gifre sends several of his underlings including Error to prevent them from getting to Elias, who he has locked up in a magical darkness chamber thing. I haven’t really figured out what to call it. Eventually they break through. (Error gets totally destroyed and Elias cries like a baby over that, but he’s repaired later in phase 3, no worries!) Mirror!Gifre throws an enormous hissy fit and his powers go berserkers, destroying half of his palace. Gi-bot manages to escape his prison and eventually reaches the whole gang. Elias tries to reason with Mirror!Gifre and notices that he’s very off; his eyes are bright red and he doesn’t seem to be listening to anything he’s telling him. Elymas tells him that Mirror!Gifre is so attached to him because he’s directly connected to Elymas himself, who discovered the existence of the Mirrorplane and connected it to it’s parallel world. So Elymas is sort of the Mirrorplane’s “god” and basically everyone who exists there all have a connection to him. I hope that makes sense? Then Mirror!Gifre’s powers go out of control and he really isn’t himself anymore because of Elymas’ and Elias’ presence. In one last desperate attempt to get Elias to stay with him, Mirror!Gifre attacks Gifre, trying to kill him. Gifre gets really badly injured, like half of his face gets totally wrecked and his throat too and it’s. Very bad. He almost dies ;m; Mirror!Gifre immediately shuts down after seeing what he’s done, and Elias leaves him with some pretty sweet words of advice before kissing him goodbye. So yeah, Elymas, Elias, Gi-bot and Gifre escape the Mirrorplane and rush to save Gifre’s life ;w; Lol these phases seem to end with somebody getting hurt.

Phase three begins with Gifre’s recovery! Elymas lends a hand with mending his injuries, and makes it so his face doesn’t look as marred. (Bless you Ely.) Unfortunately they weren’t able to salvage everything; Gifre’s right eye was torn out and his ear was ripped to shreds, and the injury on his throat was the worst–his vocal cords got so messed up that he can’t speak anymore. Eventually he wakes up and realizes he can no longer talk. Or see or hear from one side. Poor…poor sweetheart. Luckily after he recovers Elias makes him a mechanical eye and a special earpiece thing, but there’s still the problem of his not being able to talk anymore. And that’s really hard on both Gifre and Elias…eventually they learn to communicate, Gifre normally uses a mini chalkboard where he writes things out, and sometimes they try to use sign language lol. Buuut after some time, Elymas helps Elias invent a device that attaches to Gifre’s throat and allows him to speak again! But not with his mouth, more like his brain sends signals down to the device and his voice comes out that way, so he doesn’t even have to move his mouth at all. (He thinks it’s the coolest shit ever.) And yeah I really like drawing phase three Gifre, he’s smol and soft and injured and I just want to hold him.

Poor, poor son ;m;

Continuing forward, Elias, Gifre and Gi-bot work to upgrade their living quarters and Elias’ workshop. Lots of goofy shenanigans go down between Gifre and Gi-bot, since they’re finally sort of meeting and getting used to each other. Elymas is also staying with them, since he and Elias are sort of like brothers but not exactly? But yeah he sticks around, showing up every now and then, along with Ava. Finally, the upgrades are complete! Things start getting busy for Elias, who has somehow become famous after mysteriously disappearing during the robotics competition (he vanished into the Mirrorplane before round four, don’t forget! And this caused a huge uproar since everyone predicted he would win so they freaked when he disappeared). Gi-bot helps him with repairs and building new things, while Gifre tries to help them in his own way. As a thank you to Gi-bot for all of his help, and also as a way to make things easier on their busy lives, Elias creates a robotic version of himself as a companion, Elias-bot, or Eli-bot (Eliot) for short hehe >wAnd yeah, I’ve already drawn them quite a bit! Here’s their concept sketch:

BABIES

And then we go back…to the Mirrorplane. Le gasp! You thought Mirror!Gifre is done? Nope! After that terrible experience with nearly killing his counterpart and greatly upsetting Elias, M!Gifre feels extremely guilty and lonely. He repairs Error, who starts avoiding him and not answering his orders out of spite for all that he’s done lol. Missing Elias, M!Gifre attempts to copy what Elias has done and make his own Eli-bot, failing several times. After a massive failure with trying to create an Elias-bot, he completely scraps that project and decides to seek out Mirror!Elymas instead. He asks him if there’s any chance of being able to bring Mirror!Elias back to life. M!Elymas tells him it’s impossible, he’s tried. But, M!Elymas is different than the other Elymas in that he specializes more in magic than in inventing, and says he may be able to grant a wish to M!Gifre. M!Gifre wishes to have his own Elias, and M!Elymas warns him that the Elias he gets might not be the one he’s thinking of (since the Mirrorplane counterparts are different in personality from their originals). M!Gifre says he doesn’t give a shit lol, and M!Elymas grants his wish. And so…a new Mirror!Elias is created! Unlike Elias Mirror!Elias is a total asshole, arrogant, and altogether a huge jerk. But he has a softer side as well. Even still, M!Gifre is in love with him anyway, despite all of his faults. M!Elias hates his guts at first but eventually warms up to him. AND MEANWHILE! With the help of Mirror!Ava, who works for M!Gifre, Error somehow finds the discarded Eli-bot M!Gifre had tried to create a while back. Using his robotic knowledge, Error brings M!Eli-bot to life. M!Eli-bot is riddled with more glitches and bugs than Error, and has a very hard time speaking, but Error develops a fondness for him anyway, and with M!Ava, decide to dub M!Eli-bot Glitch. (Get it? M!Gi-bot has an E name, and M!Eli-bot has a G name! Genius~~~) So yes…now we have:

Elias,Gifre,Eli-bot (or Eliot),Gi-bot (or Gibo),Mirror!Gifre,Mirror!Elias,Mirror!Gi-bot (or Error),and Mirror!Eli-bot (or Glitch).

Lmao I know that’s a lot to keep track of. And yes, all of the other ATS characters have mirror counterparts as well, I just haven’t really thought too hard about what they’ll be like yet.

Hmm…idk if I’m going to make anything else happen after this–they all go through enough shit and phase three ends pretty happily, with Gifre being able to speak again and him getting into an official relationship with Elias, and the bots also happy with each other, and the mirror counterparts all set and good, so yeah!!

Alright, that’s all of it!! If you read all the way through you’re really awesome omg. I really hope you enjoyed reading about my boys’ difficult yet inspiring journey~And yeah, please don’t steal this idea? It’s mine, I worked hard on it and this is probably one of my favorite story arcs in ATS now, even though it won’t be a part of the main storyline I definitely want to do something for it in one way or another. :D

Feel free to make fanart! I highly encourage it and it would make my day if someone drew my sons! Just make sure you tag me if you post it on your own blog, or submit it here! There’s nothing an artist loves more than getting art of their own children ;w;

And here’s some extra doodles hehe

Elias gets a nifty labcoat in Phase 3 lol

Also, a bit of extra information:Gi-bot runs on pressurized air, making him a pneumatic robotAnd Eli-bot runs on oil and pressurized liquids, making him a hydraulic robot c: (Yes, I actually went and did research on this lol)

AND DONE! That’s all!

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ashtonkutchermustdie · 8 years ago

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TOP 10 BEST & TOP 5 WORST FILMS OF 2016

BEST FILMS OF 2016:

1. HUNT FOR THE WILDERPEOPLE Following the unexpected death of his Foster Aunt, chubby, rebellious foster kid, Ricky Baker runs away into the New Zealand Bush, followed by his cantankerous Foster Uncle (Sam Neil). They presently get lost and a nationwide manhunt is organised to track them down. Since its release I have watched this film a few times and it gets better on each viewing. Director Taika Waititi has produced a work that is a wonderful concoction of dry humour, farce, pathos, charm, sweetness and heart. Hunt for the Wilderpeople is truly “majestical”.

2. THE REVENANT In the 1820s, frontiersman, Hugh Glass (DiCaprio), sets out on a path of vengeance against those who left him for dead after a bear attack. Immersive, beautiful and masterful filmmaking from a director at the very top of his game. Backed by an Oscar winning performance by Leo and Oscar nominated performance by Tom Hardy (who was robbed, by the way). Very edge of your seat stuff from beginning to end. Two hours of overwhelming visual and sensory brilliance.

3. SING STREET An uplifting and heart-warming (I know, I’m sorry!) coming of age tale set in Dublin during the 80s. A young outsider starts a band in order to impress an older girl, along the way learning about The Clash, Joy Division, The Cure, New Order et al. The soundtrack was enough to entice me but the film goes beyond expectations and is a beautifully crafted triumph and a return to form for writer/director John Carney.

4. THE HUNTING GROUND Whilst it may not be my best film of the year, The Hunting Ground is the most important. A startling expose of rape crimes on US campuses, their institutional cover-ups, and the devastating toll they take on students and their families. This shit happens. And more people need to realise it and do something about it. Affecting, alarming, distressing and frustrating. A must watch for everyone. This stuff needs to be heard and discussed.

5. 10 CLOVERFIELD LANE Waking up from a car accident, a young woman finds herself in the claustrophobic bunker of a man (John Goodman) who claims that the outside world is now uninhabitable. The reliably brilliant Goodman gives a career best, is he/isn’t he, performance. A fantastically tense, thrilling and almost flawless little movie that is thankfully not quite ruined completely by the ill-advised last five minutes. Other than that though, wonderful.

6. THE LOBSTER Greek director Yorgos Lanthimos' The Lobster is one of the strangest comedies in recent memory but also one of the best. In a dystopian near-future, a single man (Colin Farrell) checks into a hotel where, by law, all singletons must find a mate within 45 days or be transformed into the animal of their choice. A hilariously deadpan examination of love, relationships, marriage, and the basic human need for connection. Not for everyone’s tastes, but certainly for mine.

7. SWISS ARMY MAN To say that Swiss Army Man is not going to be for everyone is an understatement. However, if the concept of Daniel Radcliffe as a loveable, flatulent corpse is something that sounds somewhat appealing then there is an awful lot to truly enjoy in this bizarre, unique and idiosyncratic film. Equal parts low brow and high brow, stupid and touching. Just go with it.

8. GREEN ROOM In the aftermath of a murder, a young punk rock band find themselves trapped in a secluded venue run by neo-Nazis. The most hardcore and relentless thriller in years, and exercise in extreme, nail-biting suspense, anchored by a terrifying and understated performance from Patrick Stewart as head honcho Nazi man. Lean and mean B-movie brilliance.

9. CREED Nobody was really crying out for a seventh film in the Rocky saga. Certainly not one that would replace Stallone with a younger model. It would never work! Creed, however, certainly does work and works wonderfully. Never straying too far from what made the original Rocky films great but also adding in grit, heart and true power. Stallone’s Oscar nominated return is affecting, Michael B. Jordan continues to exude charisma and ability in every performance and I am becoming increasingly impressed with director Ryan Cooler, who after Fruitvale Station and now this, is proving to be a true talent.

10. I, DANIEL BLAKE The lives of two people struggling on benefits in modern Britain intertwine as the help each other to simply get by and get on. I, Daniel Blake’s depiction of life on the dole makes for a brutal, often uncomfortable watch. As well it should. But it is also full of humour, hope and wit. At 80 years old Ken Loach has still very much got it.

WORST FILMS OF 2016:

1. GHOSTBUSTERS When this film was initially released I held off reviewing it for political reasons; there was so much furore around the fact that the cast was all female that anyone who spoke out against it was immediately labelled a closed minded misogynist. Now, I think enough people have seen it to realise that this is just a really, really terrible movie. The fact that the cast are all women is of no consequence, the fact that they are the WRONG women along with the WRONG script and the WRONG director, kind of is. Headache inducing, depressing and maddeningly dreadful.

2. SAUSAGE PARTY I like me some Seth Rogen, though the films he puts effort into and the films he makes while stoned are becoming increasingly obvious. This is clearly the latter. A dumb concept can’t cover the fact that this is simply not funny or entertaining. How it got made in the first place is beyond me.

3. SUICIDE SQUAD It should have been easy. David Ayer, Jared Leto and Margot Robbie? They should have knocked it out of the park! What happened?! As it is, Suicide Squad is barely a movie. With so much to work with and so many characters everything is glossed over and the whole thing comes across as a 2 hour trailer for a film that we are never getting… and doesn’t look that great anyway.

4. INDEPENDENCE DAY: RESURGENCE When I was 11 or 12 one of my best mates at school was very much into video games, I never really have been. He always had the latest consoles and games. When I went round to his house after school, if it was raining or dark outside I used to have to sit quietly and watch him play on this PlayStation, or whatever, for hours on end. Politely staring blankly at the shapes, colours and noise whilst actually taking very little enjoyment from the experience. This is what Independence Day: Resurgence is like. That they managed to gather the majority of the old cast is incredible. This is really an embarrassment for all involved and everyone should be thoroughly ashamed.

5. LIGHTS OUT A horror movie should be scary right? That’s kind of the point? An interesting concept (ghost can only been seen in darkness and disappears in the bright) is bogged down in unnecessary context and exposition. Dull.

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wintershoujo · 8 years ago

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That means if you own the farm, you own a lot of food, which is something everybody needs to survive. So that makes you king. Rice farming and rice kingdoms spread across the land, all the way to here. The most important kingdoms were here, here, here, here, here, here, and here. But this one was the most most important, ruled by a heavenly super person, or emperor for short. Knock knock, get the door, it's religion. The new prince wants everyone to try this hot new religion from Baekje. "Please try this religion," he said. "No," said everybody. "Try it," he said. "No," said everybody again, quieter this time. And so the religion was put into place, and all the rules that came with it. Then, the government was taken over by another clique, and they made some reforms. Like making the government govern more, and making the government more like China's government, which is a government that governs more. "Hi China," they said. "Hi dipshit," said China. "Can you call us something else other than dipsh!t?" said Japan. "Like what?" said China. "How about ♫ sunrise land ♫ ?" said Japan. And they stole China's alphabet and wrote a book, about themselves. And then they made lots of poetry and art and another book about themselves. Then they stopped moving the capital every time the emperor died and kept it in one place for a while. Right here, and they conquered the north, finally. Get that squared away. A rich hipster named Kūkai (空海) is bored with modern Buddhism and learns a better version which is more ♫ spiritual ♫ comes back, reinvents the alphabet and causes art and literature to be ♫ great ♫ for a long time. And the royal palace turned into such a dream world of art that they really didn't give a shit about governing the country. So if you live outside the palace, how are you supposed to protect your shit from criminals? ♫ hire a samurai ♫ Everyone started hiring samurai. Correction: rich, important people hired samurai. Poor people who could not afford to hire samurai did not hire samurai. The samurai became organized and powerful. More than the government, so they made their own military government here. They let the emperor still be "emperor," but the shogun is actually in control. Breaking news: the Mongols have invaded China. "We have invaded China," said the Mongols. "Please respect us, or we might invade you as well." "Okay," said Japan. So the Mongols came over, ready for war, and then died in a tornado. They tried again, and had a nice time fighting with the Japanese, but then died in a tornado. Then the emperor overthrew the shogunate, then the shogunate overthrows him back and moved to Kyoto and makes a new shogunate, and the emperor can still dress like an emperor if he wants, that's fine. ♫ now there's more art ♫ Like paining with less colors, collaborative poetry, plays, monkey fun, tea parties, gardening, architecture, flowers. It's time for Who's Going To Be The Next Shogun? Usually it's the shogun's kid, but the shogun doesn't have a kid, so he tries to et his brother to quit being a monk and be the next shogun. He says okay, but then the shogun has a kid. So now who's it gonna be? Vote now on your phones! And everyone voted so hard, that the palace caught on fire and burned down. The shogun actually didn't care, he was somewhere doing poetry. And the whole country broke into pieces. Everyone is fighting with each other for local power, and it's anybody's game. Knock knock, it's Europe. No, they're not here to take over (yet). They just wanna sell some shit. Like clocks. And guns. And ♫ Jesus ♫ So that's cool, but everyone's still fighting each other for control, now with guns. And wouldn't it be nice to control the capital, which right now is puppets, with no one controlling them. This clan is ready to make a run for it. But first, they have to trample this smaller clan which is in the way. Surprise! Smaller clan wins, and the leader of that clan steals the idea of invading the capital, and invades the capital. It goes very well. He's about halfway through conquering Japan, when someone who works for him kills him. And then someone else who works for him kills him. And that guy finishes conquering Japan. And then he confiscated everybody's swords. And made some rules. "And now I'm going to invade Korea, and then hopefully China," he said, and failed, and also died. But before he died, he told these 5 guys to take care of his 5 year old son until he's old enough to be the next ruler of Japan. And the 5 guys said "Yeah, right. It's not gonna be this kid, it's gonna be one of us. Because we're grownups. And it's probably gonna be this guy who happens to be way more rich and powerful than he others. A lot of people support him, but a lot of people support not supporting him. They have a fight. He wins! And starts a new government right here. ♫ Edo ♫ And he still lets the emperor dress like an emperor, and have very nice things. But don't get confused, this is he new government, and they are very strict. So strict, they closed the country. No one can leave, and no one can come in. Except for the Dutch, they want to buy and sell sh!t, but they have to do it right here. Now that the entire country was not at war with itself, the population increased a lot. Business increased, schools were opened, roads were built, everyone could read, books were published, poetry, plays, sexy times, puppet shows, and Dutch studies. People studied European science from books they bought from the Dutch. We're talking geography, skeletons, physics, chemistry, astronomy, and maybe even electricity. Over time the economic and cultural prosperity began to gradually slow dow- .....Knock knock. It's the United States. With huge boats. With guns. Gunboats. "Open the country. Stop having it be closed." said the United States. There was really nothing they could do, so they signed a contract that lets United States, Britain, and Russia visit Japan when they want. Chōshu and Satsuma hated that. "Hat sucks," they said. "This sucks!" And with very little outside help, they overthrew he shogunate, and made the emperor the emperor again, and moved him to Edo, which they renamed Eastern Capital (東京). They made a new government, which was a lot more western. They made a new constitution, that was pretty western. And a military that was pretty western. And do you know what else is western? That's right, it's conquering stuff. So what can we conquer? Korea! They conquered Korea, taking it from its previous owner, China, and then go a little bit further, and Russia rushes in out of nowhere and says, "Stop, no, you can't take that. We were gonna build a railroad through here to try to get some warm water." And Russia builds their railroad, supervised by a shit ton of soldiers, and when the railroad was done, they downgraded to a fuck ton. Did I say downgrade? I meant upgrade. And Japan says, "Can you maybe chill?" And Russia says, "How about maybe YOU chill?" Japan is kind of scared of Russia. You'll never guess who's also kind of scared of Russia. Great Britain. So Japan and Great Britain make an alliance together so they can be a little less scared of Russia. Feeling confident, Japan goes to war against Russia, just for a moment, and then they both get tired and stop. ♫ It's time for World War One ♫ The world is about to have a war, because it's the 1900s, and weapons are getting crazy, and all these empires are excited to try them out on each other. Meanwhile, Japan has been enjoying conquering stuff and wants more. And the next thing on the list is this part of China and lots of tiny islands. All that stuff belongs to Germany, which just had war declared on it by Britain, because Britain was friends with Belgium, which was being trespassed by Germany in order to get to France to kick France's ass because France is friends with Russia, who was getting ready to kick Austria's ass, because Austria was getting ready to kick Serbia's ass, because someone from Serbia shot the leader of Austria's ass, or actually he shot him in the head. And Britain is currently friends with Japan, so you know what that means. Duh! ♫ Japan should take the islands ♫ Which they wanted to do anyway. So they called Britain on the telegram to sort of let them know. And then they did it. And they also helped Britain a little here and there with some errands and stuff. Now the war is over, and congratulations Japan! You technically fought in the war, which means you get to sit at the negotiating table with the big dudes, where they decided who gets what, and, yes, Japan gets to keep all that shit they stole from Germany. You also get to join the post-war mega alliance ♫ the League of Nations ♫ whose mission statement is to try not to take over the world. The Great Depression is bad. Japan's economy is now crappy. But the military is doing just fine, and it invades Manchuria, and the League of Nations is line "no, don't do that, if you're in the League of Nations you're not supposed to take over the world," and Japan said, "♫ how about I do anyway ♫" and Japan invaded more and more and more and more of China and was planning to invade the whole entire east. You've got mail! It's from Germany. The new leader of Germany. He has a cool mustache and he's trying to take over the world, and he needs friends. This also got forwarded to Italy. They all decided to be friends because they had so much in common. ♫ it's time for World War 2 ♫ Germany is invading their neighbors, then they invaded the neighbor's neighbors. Then the neighbor's neighbor's neighbor's who happens to be Britain said "holy shit" and the United States started helping Britain, because they are ♫ good friends ♫ and started not helping Japan because ♫ their friends and our friends are not friends, plus they're planning on invading the entire ocean ♫ The United States is also working on a large and very huge bomb, bigger than any other bomb, ever. Just in case. But they still haven't joined the war. War looks bad on tv, and the United States is really starting to care about their image. But then Japan spits on them in Hawaii, and challenges hem to war, and they say yes. And then Germany, as a symbol of friendship, declares war on the United States also. So the United States goes to war in Europe, and they helped he gang chase Germany back into Germany. And they also start chasing Japan back into Japan, and they haven't used the bomb yet, and are curious to see if it works. So they drop it on Japan. They actually dropped 2. The United States installed a new government inspired by the United States government. Just the right ingredients for a ♫ post-war economic miracle ♫ and Japan starts making TVs, VCRs, automobiles, and camcorders as fast as they can. And also better than everybody else. They get rich, and the economy goes wild. And then the miracle wears off. But everything's still pretty cool, I guess. ♫ bye ♫ Good Evening Twitter, this is your boy EatDatPussy445, and about like 30-45 minutes ago, I beat the fuck out of my dick so god damn hard that I can't even feel my left leg, my left leg has went totally numb. And, my dick has also went totally numb, to the point where it feels fucking weird when I go and take a piss. Dr. Pepper. The famous 23 flavor soda, has a lot of spinoff products, such as Diet Dr. Pepper. That’s not the topic here today. No we’re not talking about Diet Dr. Pepper barbecue sauce. But what we are talking about, is hot Dr. Pepper. That’s right, hot Dr. Pepper was originally introduced in the 1960’s as a winter beverage. Here’s some advertisements from the 1960’s showing about about Hot Dr. Pepper. However, it was short lived. But you still don’t believe me? You think this is a joke? Just go to the facts and questions article on the Dr. Pepper website. Anyway, I’m going to teach you how to make it. All you need is a Dr. Pepper; a can or bottle will be fine. And just proceed to open it, but DONT blow it up like I did. Cuz’ you know, Bad Dr. Pepper right there. Anyway, you want to heat up a pan, or anything, and just pour a little Dr. Pepper in there, as much as you want. Alright, and as soon as we did that, we’re gonna take a lemon and a knife and make a small slice, and then put it into the glass that you’re gonna puor the hot Dr. pepper in. When the Dr. Pepper starts sizzling or steaming up… That’s it. Just take it off, and pour it in your glass. And if you’re using a glass glass glass made of glass like I am, put it very slowly. Like, wait five seconds between each… Each spill, so it doesn’t melt, cus you know, when glass melts… Glass… yeah. Also if you try this at home, and your lemon makes a popping bubble, comment or like, heh, cuz you know, thumbs up for that. Just some more footage of the popping lemon… Yeah, and basically, this is hot Dr. Pepper. It tastes just like Dr. Pepper, only it’s hot, kind of like tea. Brings out the cherry flavor. Little carbonation, and I’ll see you next time. Later! FINALS WEEK FINALS WEEK JUST DISTRACTING MYSELF FROM FINALS WEEK IM NOT STUDYING BUT ALL MY FRIENDS ARE AND IM FUCKIN' ALONE CAUSE IM LAZY BUT I WONT TAKE YOUR NOTES YEAH I WONT USE QUIZLE-T NO I WONT WATCH CRASH COURSE JOHN GREEN FUCKING SUCKS WHEN YOUR CURRICULUM MAKES ME HATE MYSELF MORE THAN I ALREADY DO~ THERE'S SOMETHING WRO~NG

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