#role of torture in the story

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

He was just being a silly little guy!

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[whumble-beeee]

Hermanitos

The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping | Cont'd from Part 16

Content: mentioned drugging, mentioned torture, mentioned murder, begging, guns, lady whump kinda?

* * * * * * * *

Excerpt from: The (Un)Official Guide to Hero-Keeping; a self-help guide for villains and bounty-hunters

[‘But what about the police?!’ you may ask in your extreme naïveté. Don’t you even worry your silly little head about those ineffective dweebs! The police may be a problem for small-time criminals and villains who fail to think past tomorrow, but luckily you have the advantage of this book on your side! Simply make sure to set aside part of your budget to pay off the police, and they’ll gladly unsee any shady dealings they may have previously seen. They’re very good at it.

What do you do if you don’t have such funds? Worry not! While this does often muddy the waters and it is advised to simply pay off prospective arrestors if possible, it is not the only way! Overall, it’s very simple and easy to have the police on your side, and an invaluable resource when you find yourself in a tough spot; You may kidnap a loved one or otherwise blackmail a person in a position of power, seduce them, or any of the other very effective tactics! (Refer to Chapter XX: Blackmailing and Manipulation for more information!)]

* * * * * * * *

For this chapter, dialogue translated from Spanish to English will be bracketed and italicized [like this] for ease of understanding.

Also, I made Officer Kalis Brooks and Officer Frida Galleta girlfriends now, instead of Kalis having a one-sided crush like I hinted in the previous chapter :D I might go back and change the previous chapter to reflect that. Eventually. Probably.

* * * * * * * *

“DECLAN CANSANO, WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!”

The bounty hunter groaned next to Kalis, cowboy hat flown off somewhere into the aether. “Aughhh, fuck me… Fri–Frida?... What're you–...?”

Shouting, spotlight, police sirens, sounds and colors and oppressive darkness all melding into one. 

Was Kalis dead? 

That car must have hit her. Yes. Because otherwise that meant that the bounty hunter had saved her WHILE trying to kill her.

And that didn't make any damn sense.

She couldn’t keep track of what was going on around her anymore, the world spinning much too fast for her to comprehend, blackness crushing her in on all sides, threatening to swallow her whole as it crashed over her in tumultuous waves. 

She laid her head down on the pavement with a small groan.

She'd just… sleep for a moment. 

Frida was here. 

Everything would be okay now…

Officer Galleta slid over the hood of the car with practiced ease, shouting and swearing like a sailor as she landed on top of the bounty hunter, literally straddling his legs while still pointing her gun at his head. He dazedly tried to shove back from her.

“I cannot believe you!” she bellowed. “Out of all the selfish, horrible, ungrateful things you've done, that has got to be one of the worst! Killing my girlfriend?! You absolutely dense motherfucker, you bitch, you–”

“Is… is that… Frida?...”

“Si Cabrón, obviously! Who else would it be?!”

“Frita-hermanitaaa~” he giggled in a daze. “Since when do you have a girlfriend?”

“Don’t you ‘Frita-hermanita’ me, you fuck! Take that stupid fucking bandana off, you look like you’re wearing a Halloween costume!” Her voice shook with barely kept-rage, teeth bared and eyes fiery red as she plopped down on the stomach of the bounty hunter and ripped the bandana off his face with venomous fervor. He let out an ‘oomph’ as her knee dug into the soft flesh of his stomach, along with a whiny ‘go away, leave me alone.’ Although the hunter didn’t seem particularly disturbed by it. More… pissy.

“Stop wavin’ that thing around, you’re gonna shoot someone,” the mercenary groaned. He made a half-assed attempt to grab at the gun just as the muzzle shoved into the vulnerable underside of his chin, another hand pinning him to the ground by the lapel of his shirt. He grew still.

“I should be so lucky,” Officer Galleta growled.

God, she’s so hot, Kalis oggled. Pretty pretty.

“I should shoot you right now for what you almost did,” she hissed.

“Oh calm down, you and I both know I wasn’t gonna actually kill her, ya baby. Your fuckass car definitely would have though. I saved her ass. You’re welcome.”

“Right! And now I get the honorable privilege of shoving my gun down your throat instead of watching you slit hers. So yes, thank you Declan, for your extreme altruism.”

“That’s how I roll. I’m sure your girlfriend is grateful too! You should take her out to a lovely candle-lit dinner while I finish my job and take a 20-hour nap. Now let me up.”

Officer Galleta let out a sharp laugh into the chilly night air, bouncing off the trees around them, crystal clear and all-encompassing. “You want me to just let you go? After all that?!”

He opened his mouth, only to stop short, eyes flashing briefly over to Officer Brooks’ half-conscious form. He propped himself up, wholly disregarding the gun shoving into his trachea as he leaned in closer to Frida’s rage-etched features, voice dropping to a gravelly fast mumble.

He whispered, “[Frida, what’re you even doing here? You know what will happen if my boss finds out we talked to each other.]”

“Oh that's rich–”

“[No, Frida!]” he urged. “[Look, I know you’re angry and I’m sorry I made you come all the way out here, but you know what Lana’ll do if she finds out! You’ve seen what will happen, you’ve felt–]” he reached up and gently grasped her shoulder, where Frida immediately slapped his hand away and gripped at the site defensively. “[–what will happen! And look I’m sorry for scaring you and your girlfriend, but whatever you decide to do tonight, I’m leaving with my hostage, because I’d rather not see anyone maimed again, or KILLED, by some cutesy pastel psychopath–]”

Frida shoved her gun further into his neck. “[Shut UP, Declan, I know! I’m gonna let you go, I was just… ]” She took a deep breath, barely restraining her anger. Then she didn’t. She slammed her fist down on his chest, hard. 

“[GOD, FUCK YOU and your terrible life choices!]” 

Declan barely flinched. His hand fell to the melted and twisting flesh that shined off his cheek, his jaw, his neck, his arm in the spotlighting headlights of the police cruiser. Eyes vacant. He sighed, letting himself look past the Frida and stare dead-eyed upward at the cloudless sky. 

The stars look so pretty tonight.

So far removed from the torment of humanity…

“... Can’t say I disagree.”

Frida’s gaze softened slightly. 

He shoulders untensed

She sighed. 

“[Deccy, we… you can’t keep doing this.]”

His gaze flicked downward. He sighed. “[Can you get off of me?]”

“[What would it take? How do I get that woman off your ass?”]

[“Frida, there is no ‘getting her off my ass.’ She knows everything about me, she knows all my secrets, she knows who you are, she knows who I am, what I am... She’ll tell everyone.”]

An unbearable pause.

[“Would that really be so bad?”] Frida finally pleaded. She had no other solution. Declan shot her a look.

Yeah…

“[I’d have to shoot her dead to get rid of her,”] Declan resigned. [“And her bitchy little boyfriend, and whatever fail-safes they have in place. You know that the police won’t help me–]”

“[But I can help you!]

“[–and YOU’RE certainly not allowed to help, because before you say anything, I’m not letting you risk your life for me like that. Period.”] 

Frida went to argue with him, but she just barely caught that stupid little sparkle returning to his stupid red eyes. God dammit. “[Your girlfriend, on the other hand… I mean if you were willing to hit her with your car, maybe she–]”

And Officer Galleta’s spirited anger returned tenfold, voice soaring high above the trees. “You really don't know when to quit, do you?!”

He laughed. “Nahhhh.”

“I’m just trying to help you!”

“Don’t need it, thanks. Let me up.”

“What if I shot you right here and now?”

“Fuckin’ do it! Finish the job your girlfriend couldn’t! Shoot me. Be her knight in shining armor, you won’t!”

Officer Brooks’ eyes shot open. What was all the shouting about?

“All this talk about saving our lives, and you don't even want to save yourself!!”

“Wait, wait, so… huh?” Kalis tried to interject. God, her body hurt so much. Were they… Were they whispering at each other just now?  “What is happening, I don’t– Why were you speaking Spanish?” Kalis groaned, forcing her head to leave behind the cotton balls and clouds. “What did you say?”

“Look, either shoot me or let me up, Frida,” the man deadpanned. “Kill me. I know you want to.”

Frida growled, every muscle in her body tensed, on fire, shaking as she shoved the muzzle of the gun even further into his chin, forcing his head back to grind further into the asphalt. She kept it there for a long while. 

So long. Too long. Holy shit was she actually gonna–

Officer Galleta suddenly yelled out, an enraged howl, and bounded off the bounty hunter, kicking a couple of rocks into the ditch sidelining the road. “Augh, this is just like you! Every single time I try to talk to you, you deflect and refuse to talk even though you’re– AUGH!! I just want to help you Declan! And you pull me into your illegal, unethical bullshit–...” She charged back over to him, holding out her hand for him to grab. “Get up. Now.”

He grabbed her hand back and popped right up to standing, dusting himself off as Officer Brooks stared at them, mouth literally agape. She hadn’t– She just– 

“You look like shit, by the way,” Officer Galleta commented. 

“I feel like shit," Declan chuckled. "Haven’t slept in like three days–” 

“And you’re fuckin’ high, too.” 

“Ehhhhhh, you caught me.” 

“Frida?... What’s going on?” Kalis tried to interject again. Her voice felt so small. She could barely hold back her tears, her chest felt like it was splitting open. 

Frida was a dirty cop…?

“Can you at least pretend to care about your own life as much as I do?” Officer Galleta snarked.

He scoffed. “Yeah, care so much that you’d pull a gun on me and threaten to kill me?”

Her mouth fell open, speechless for a moment. 

”I– I–... You–”

“Wouldn’t have actually died? Just like your girlfriend wouldn’t have?”

“No! I-I wasn’t actually gonna shoot you!”

“Right,” the mercenary deadpanned. “You were just gonna hit us both with your car so I couldn’t even save her.”

“Well it worked, didn’t it?!” Galleta cried. “You saved her from getting hit! And no one had to die at all! This isn't just about your life, asshole! It’s about mine, it’s about my girlfriend’s, our family’s, the people that you kidnap and torture!”

“Oh fuck off, Frida. Having to deal with you is worse than having to torture people, truly.”

“Stop doing it and you won't have to deal with either!”

“Or,” Declan spat. “YOU could leave me alone. Like I keep asking you to!”

Frida’s jaw might as well have been on the floor. “I'm not leaving you alone just because you can't get away from some psycho bitch you fell for ten years ago!”

The bounty hunter’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Sorry for thinking I could actually love someone countless years ago! So sorry for my naivete! Maybe you should inform your secret girlfriend of the Cansano family curse before she gets tortured and murdered too!” 

“Oh no, you’re the one who let her get into your pants BEFORE you knew she was fucking insane and then find out about your stupid little secret–” 

“No, I’m the one trying to make sure you don’t get turned into a lab rat or brutally tortured and murdered because you don’t understand how fucking insane she can be–” 

“–and saw an opportunity to exploit your ‘oh I can’t actually KILL people, I’ll murder them with my stupid little cowboy gun–” 

“– even though you were literally there when she threw acid on us and I protected you–” 

“–then make them feel better’ BULLSHIT WHEN WE BOTH KNOW IT COULD BE USED FOR SO MUCH GOOD BUT INSTEAD–” 

“–because that’s what family DOES INSTEAD OF BECOMING A FUCKING TRAITOR–” 

“–YOU BENT TO HER WILL UNTIL I LITERALLY HAD TO CHANGE MY NAME–”

“–WHO SELLS OUT YOUR HER FAMILY JUST TO WORK FOR THE GOVERNMENT–”

“SHUT UP!!” Kalis screeched out, hands pressing into her ears to block out the dizzying noise. Both their attentions turned to her at once, their childish shouting match thankfully screeched to a grinding halt. A dirty cop and a bounty hunter, staring at her. Enemies. Villains.

“Frida!” Kalis cried. “I-I– I don't– what's going on with you?”

Frida’s face melted into a mask of terror as she took in Kalis’s prone form, still sprawled out where the bounty hunter had dove them both out of the way of her oncoming car. “Kalis! Oh my god, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”

Kalis skittered away from the cop. “What is happening?! Why– Why are you talking to him like that?! Why were you yelling?”

“I–” Galleta’s breath petered out. “Kalis, I know this looks bad–”

“You’re a dirty cop!”

“I��m not a dirty–”

The bounty hunter scoffed under his breath: “You kind of are though–” 

“Shut up!” The two cops yelled at him in unison. He flipped up his hands in surrender and turned to walk away.

“Hey, no, get back here!” Kalis yelled.

The hunter stopped in his tracks and sighed. “Can we please get on with this, I have places to–”

“No! You’re going to prison!” She turned to Officer Galleta. “Look, Frida, I don’t know what’s going on with you and him, but– but– He kidnapped and tortured a boy, Frida! You can’t tell me you’re on his side! I don’t care if he’s like, I don’t know, a love affair, or he’s blackmailing you, or whatever you’ve got going on, but you can’t just sit idly by–”

A barking laugh echoed up and down the highway, a sound that rang off the asphalt and successfully started fringing on Kalis’ absolute last nerve. “Love affair!” the mercenary snorted. “Fuckin’ love affair, holy shit, a love affair! She thinks I’m your boyfriend, Frida! God, no, that would be the day! Shit man, fuck that, fuck that…”

Kalis narrowed her eyes on the cackling man. “I don’t see what’s so funny.”

He shook his head. “She’s not my girlfriend, chica. She’s my sister.”

Another pause.

Oh.

Oh. 

Wait, no. 

What?

“I–...” she looked over to Officer Galleta. Frida. Her love. “Huh?” 

Frida took that small step toward Kalis. “I can explain. But I’d never hurt you, and I’m not on his side. I’m on yours. I promise.”

“I don’t–” She wanted so desperately to believe her. So, so bad. “Are you a part of a crime family?...”

“No, I’m–”

“Technically you are–”

“Declan!” Frida snapped. “I swear to god, shut the fuck up.” 

He rolled his eyes and turned his attention elsewhere, while his sister purposefully looked toward her baffled partner. “Look, please understand, I’m not letting him go because he’s my brother, there’s so much–”

Kalis’ eyes widened. “Who said anything about letting him go?”

The color drained from Frida’s face. 

“I– I mean… I’m not–...”  She took a deep, shaking breath, then started talking at about a million miles a second. 

“Look, just listen for a second, you have to understand, lives are at stake here, my life, your life, Declan’s, so many others, I need you to understand I’m trying to make sure no one gets hurt–”

Officer Galleta’s voice faded into the back of Kalis’ mind, static filling her head like thousands of angry bees, only directed by the thunderous pounding of her own heart. It was a strange case indeed, the case of the Traitorous Girlfriend and the Bounty Hunter. The facts and the lies were strewn up across the wall as one, connected haphazardly with spools of knotted red string. Too much, too fast, Kalis couldn’t handle it all, help help–

Stick to the facts, detective:

Frida had a secret villain brother. She was in a crime family? She was a dirty cop. She was a liar. She was just trying to help. Apparently. But what are the promises of a liar if not absolutely meaningless, that of a scoundrel, a fiend? She also wanted to send that boy to his death. She wanted to let a man who captures and kills and tortures set free. She wanted to let him go. She was a liar. She didn’t care that he tried to kill Kalis. She betrayed Kalis. She lied. She just wanted to keep her loved ones safe. She’s a liar. A dirty cop. A liar. A criminal. A liar, she lied, what else had she lied about, was she capable of more, was she capable of killing? Would she just stand by and let her brother kill her girlfriend? Would she help, would she help him torture, HAS she helped him torture, she would kill, liar, killer, betrayal–

Frenzy, frenzy, what was up or down, was was going in with the world–

Human life at stake?

Stan.

Stan was at stake.

Save Stan. That’s all that mattered. Who cared about her stupid life anyway?

She grabbed Frida roughly, desperately grasping at her shirt and yanking her toward the car that held the prisoner. “Frida! Please! He's a kidnapper!”

If she could just show her. 

If Frida could just see.

“He kidnapped a boy, he kidnapped a super, he tortured him, you should see the things that he’s done to that boy! You can’t let him go, you haven’t seen what he's done, he’s a monster!”

“Not a boy,” the bounty hunter lulled, popping back up from where he’d apparently disappeared behind the cruiser that almost hit them. With that stupid fuck-ass cowboy hat on again.

“Excuse me?” she asked incredulously.

“He’s not a boy,” he repeated, meandering back to them. “He’s 22. He’s an adult.”

No no no no no no no, Kalis, stay focused, he’s trying to throw you off your game.

She grabbed her love’s sleeve, pleading. “His name’s Stan, Frida! Stan! I met him, I talked to him, he’s scared, he’s hurt, he’s drugged, he doesn’t even understand what’s going on right now. You brother, that man right there, he tortured him, Frida! He’s bruised and bloody and he has broken bones, he’s collared so he can’t use his powers and your brother dragged him around by that collar he’s a monster Frida, please, we can save him!”

The bounty hunter’s face shifted in her periphery. Angry. Tense.

Focus on your love. You can save the boy, you can save them both.

Frida tried to reason with her, voice slow and pleading: “...Kalis… I know. I know what he does. What he's done–”

No no NO NONONONO!!

“What happens when I see that boy on the news one day?!” Kalis pleaded, literally grabbing Fridas hands and sinking to her knees. “That he was found dead, when I see the report of every gruesome torture he was put through before he was found, and I see him there and knew that I could’ve done something about it, but I let him go? What do I do then, Frida?”

No response. Not some smartass retort from the bounty hunter, not some vile, pleading words to understand from Frida. 

Nothing.

“I promised hi-im,” Kalis wept. “I promised him I’d save him. Please Fri-ida. I-I can’t do this without you, I can't, I need you.”

Frida stared at the ground. She shivered.

“I can’t–” Frida took a large gasp in, voice shaking almost as much as her body. “I can’t– Let–... You. Die.”

The wrathful bounty hunter himself piped up: “I’ll do my best to make sure he’s treated well, yeah?... That’s the best I can do. That’s all I can do.”

His voice was so gentle.

The voice of someone who cared.

The voice of someone placating.

The voice of someone trying to get their way.

Her jaw clenched, so hard she thought her teeth would shatter.

“You… are both… under arrest,” she whispered. 

She reached for her holster. Empty. Shit shit shit shit shit– she jerkily fumbled around her pocket and crashed up to her feet in a frenzy, barely managing to get a proper hold on the mercenary’s confiscated gun before brandishing it directly at the bounty hunter and the dirty cop, the traitor.

The mercenary’s eyes widened. Then narrowed. “That’s my gun.”

“You’re under arrest, you’re both–!” she pointed the gun at Officer Galleta, who took a few shocked steps back. “ –under arrest! For attempted murder of an officer, for aiding and abetting, for corruption, for betrayal, for lying, for everything! Both of you! On the ground! NOW!!”

Silence.

A look passed between the siblings, from the bounty hunter to his partner in crime.

A certain gleam in their eyes,

“Drop your weapons, and get on the ground. Now!” 

“[Frida, that gun doesn’t have any bullets in it,]” the bounty hunter muttered under his breath. 

Officer Galleta’s eyes went wide. She looked to her brother. He nodded. 

She knew that sparkle in his eyes.

God. Fucking. Dammit.

“[I better see you again. Fuck you.]”

“[Love you too. Thank you.]”

“Shut up!” Officer Brooks shouted. “No talking, put your hands–”

Officer Brooks screeched in surprise, in fear, in heart-pounding, blood-racing fear as Officer Galleta broke into a sprint and lunged at her. 

And she accidentally pulled the trigger of the deadly gun grasped in her hands.

At the one she loved.

No.

NO. 

NONONONONONO–

She screamed.

Click.

And she slammed into the ground, all breath knocked out of her violently, her girlfriend scrambling on top of her to pin her down, Kalis scrambling and screeching under that to get up, grappling and shrieking until the muzzle of a standard-issue police gun dug into her chest.

She froze.

Done.

It was over so quickly.

From so close, Kalis could see the tears in Officer Galleta’s eyes.

Her voice cracked.

“Frida… Please… Don’t–”

The bounty hunter swooped by, crouching down just enough as he sprinted to grab his gun and kept running toward his truck. He didn’t look back.

“NO!!” Kalis screamed into the inky black nothingness of the night, into the ghostly white and shadowed and tear-stained face of the person she had trusted most in this world, loud enough that it woke Stan up from his drug-induced haze for the shortest of moments and made him look around in confusion at the sorrowful screams that surrounded him, make him struggle as the driver side door slammed open and shut and Declan scrambled with almost unbelievable abandon to get the engine to turn over.

And Stan cowered away from him, insurmountable fear worming through his mind: He’s going to hurt me again.

“Frida!” Kalis gasped. “Frida, Frida, please, we have to save him, we have to save that boy, we still have time we can still save him let me up let me go please please PLEASE DON’T DO THIS I PROMISED!! I PROMISED HIM FRIDA! I PROMISED I WOULD SAVE HIM I PROMISED PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME A LIAR–”

Officer Galleta didn't say anything. She couldn't. She was frozen to the spot, paralyzed. Except for the minute shudder of her chest, except for the tears that started to fall.

And they stayed like that until the truck of Declan Cansano rumbled to life and screeched off into the night.

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Next (when posted)

AND if you'd like to know what's happening in the sludge that is Stan's mind during this scene, check out this drabble!: This Edible Ain't Shiiiiiii~~ (*enters warp space*)

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[greasydumbfuck]

watched the 2004 punisher movie yesterday with pixie and honestly i had fun 👍 some stuff was good some stuff was eh some completely irrelevant stuff made me mildly annoyed. but most of all it was funny and they had frank hang around with his tits out for multiple scenes so i mean how could i not have a great time tbh

[andi-o-geyser]

The desire to write a 200-page-long dissertation on Percival de Rolo’s journey and the deep importance of how trauma presents itself and isn’t easily healed and on the meaning of vengeance and the trials and crushing guilt that manifests which one must fight through to truly forgive themselves and learn to live again baked into his story Vs. my biological requirement of sleep to be a functioning human being: FIGHT

[meowsticmarvels]

chat while we are at it im busy rn but would anyone care tk hear about my mcsm persona au. lol...........

[forcedhesitation]

why should it just be steve who has all the torturous purgatory realm fun?

[trensu]

chrissy the vampire slayer

Chrissy screamed. She KNEW taking the shortcut was a bad idea. A cheerleader in the woods after dark by herself? That's the start of at least three different horror movies, she's pretty sure. But Jason had ditched her after winning the game for some victory party with the rest of his basketball buddies and he had been her ride home.

A hulking man pounded after her. Chrissy pushed her legs to run faster, faster. It was a miracle she hadn't tripped over a branch or gotten her foot caught in one of the many hidey-holes the cute little forest critters burrowed into ground. This was a stupid way to die, she berated herself. Jason hadn't even gotten the winning shot in, the dick. It was the upperclassman, Steve Harrington, who did that but Jason was such a suck up that of course he immediately followed Steve to the stupid party like the world's stupidest dog.

How had the man not caught up with her yet? He easily had a foot on her in height. She chanced a look over her shoulder and screamed again as she saw he was still determinedly chasing her.

She broke into a clearing. Except it wasn't a clearing, it was a graveyard because why not make it easier for the creep to hide her body after murdering her? A hysterical giggle got caught in her throat as she quickly came up to a gravestone. Her momentum was not going to allow her to swerve around it without toppling over and then it would be lights out for her forever.

She took a wild leap, closing her eyes in an effort to brace for the inevitable collision, but shockingly she bounded over it like a freaking star track runner. The man behind her crashed into it but before Chrissy could thank her lucky stars for the reprieve, the gravestone instead of tripping up her pursuer freaking broke in half under the force of his impact.

Chrissy sobbed and continued to run blindly through the empty cold graveyard. How was she still running? She was panting for breath but out of sheer fear rather than exhaustion. The man didn't sound out of breath at all as he came after her with the doggedness of an oncoming training. If she didn't know better, she'd say he wasn't breathing at all.

She hastily scrubbed her arm over her eyes to clear the tears away and in that moment of temporary blindness, crashed into the side of the mausoleum with a pained grunt. She scrabbled to stay on her feet. The man, seeing her cornered, slowed to a stop before her and she turned to see him clearly for the first time in the clear full moon light.

Chrissy shrieked when she saw his face. It was...wrong. His brow was deformed, making his sickly yellow eyes look sunken into his face. He grinned at her, revealing disturbingly pointed teeth. He chuckled.

"Poor little girl," he said. "All alone after dark."

He prowled closer and Chrissy felt panic overwhelm her. But then another voice broke the night.

"Hey, cheer queen, catch!"

Chrissy and the man with the deformed face both instinctively turned to look at whoever spoke. Something was thrown at her and Chrissy caught it right out of the air like some kind of major league baseball player. Her hand wrapped around the object and some part of her recognized the feel of it.

It triggered something in her mind and, with no input from any higher thought process, Chrissy twirled the thing in her hand and threw herself forward at the man that had terrorized her. The thing pierced right through the man's rib cage like a hot knife through butter. The man only had enough time to look at her with surprised, widened eyes before he burst into a cloud of dust.

She gasped, accidentally breathed in some of the dust, and devolved into a coughing fit. By the time she was able to catch her breath, the person who had thrown the thing at her, had reached her side.

"So, you're the new slayer."

Chrissy looked up to see Eddie the Freak Munson. Her grip on the thing in her hand tightened as her whole body tensed again. Eddie noticed and hopped back hurriedly with his hands raised up. He smiled benignly at her.

"What is this? What did you call me?" Chrissy asked, gesturing the thing in her hand.

"That," Eddie said in a tone far too chipper for the graveyard and pile of dust nearby, "is a stake, commonly used to fight vampires. And you, cheer queen, are now the slayer. Congrats! Now c'mon, you should talk to my uncle."

Eddie bent down to pick up a black tin lunchbox he must've dropped earlier and then started to saunter off.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Chrissy squeaked. "Are you kidding me? I just got attacked and I stabbed someone and, and, and what the fuck is a slayer?"

Chrissy was not proud at how her words ended in a shriek, but the last hour had been very very stressful and she thought she was entitled to a little hysteria. Eddie halted and turned around. His face softened for a moment.

"I get it, it's been really scary so far," he said, more kindly than before. "Being a slayer is no joke, I know, but you'll feel better after talking to my uncle. Hopefully."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chrissy hiccuped. She felt her eyes get teary again. Eddie huffed, his patience clearly wearing thin but trying to keep it under wraps.

"Look, do you want to stay here all alone? In a graveyard? At night?"

"N-no."

"Then let's go."

Eddie stalked off. Chrissy hurried after him, a deathgrip still on the stake he had thrown at her.

"What were you doing here anyway?" she asked. Eddie rattled the lunchbox he held.

"The ambience here is good for business. Jocks keep their transactions short, with minimal threats. Especially after a winning game. Your boytoy do you proud?" Eddie slanted his eyes at her and waggled his eyebrows. Chrissy grimaced at the phrasing but shook her head.

"No, Steve scored the winning shot. I think he's in your grade?"

"Steeeve Harrington," Eddie drawled with derision. "Of course he did. Douchebag's going to be insufferable."

"Hey," Chrissy protested. She liked Steve. He was funny and he treated all the cheerleaders respectfully, unlike some of the other jocks. "Steve's a nice guy. He's sweet."

"Ha! Hate to break it to you, cheer queen, but there's no way a guy that loaded and that pretty is anything but a douchebag," Eddie snorted.

"So you think he's pretty?" Chrissy snarked back, feeling oddly defensive of Steve. True, Steve could get...prickly...sometimes, but she'd also seen him stop to help a middle school kid find his missing lizard or whatever it was, so she knew he wasn't all that bad.

Eddie stumbled and his cheeks pinked.

"I never said that," he spluttered, eye darting at her and away very quickly. "It's, it's just what all the girls say about him. And he's always strutting around everywhere expecting everyone to fawn over him like he's some kind of Prince Charming. It's distracting. Uh, annoying, I mean."

Oh. Chrissy thought of the trumpet girl in the school band and how she always managed to catch Chrissy's attention no matter what she was doing. The way the girl smiled at her bandmates, the way her brow furrowed while playing...Chrissy felt herself flush, too. Well, that was something to tuck away in a mental box to think about later. Much later. Like, maybe in ten years later. She wondered if Eddie the Freak Munson had a mental box like hers too.

The silence stretched awkwardly between them as they exited the graveyard. Eddie opened the door to his van and bowed dramatically at her as she levered herself in. He made his way around the vehicle and clambered into the driver's seat. The old thing started up on the second try. As Eddie jolted them along the empty road and headed towards the trailer park, it occurred to Chrissy she should ask.

"Why would your uncle be able to help me?"

"You mean aside from being the best guy in all of Hawkins? He used to be a Watcher. He knows how all this goes."

That answered absolutely nothing. Chrissy frowned but kept quiet. She had a feeling Eddie wouldn't say any more about it until they'd met with Wayne Munson anyway.

[miraluking-respectfully]

man while i'm on my felix kick it fucking sucks that they keep not knowing what the FUCK to do with this character when he's actually very strongly characterized. i went off about this last night but like, underutilized aspect of felix: he's like, a really good leader?? and i'm not talking an uber-inspiring protagonist-type leader like the PC; i'm talking an extremely functional organizer of people that you especially need in a military context. it's kind of hard to clock at first if you're not paying attention, especially because you're introduced to him while he's desperately trying to stave off a mutiny; but considering he's on a shithole iceball with a group of restless 18-to-25-year-old recruits who, as far as they're concerned, are trying to kill an immortal enemy, the fact that only one of them winds up ultimately raising a hand against him is impressive. he boosts morale, he makes good tactical calls on his own while not being too proud to take assistance, he metes out swift discipline without being needlessly punitive. and when the squad splits up, people keep in touch with him!!!

like, felix is extremely good at his job, and that aspect of him kind of deepens the tragedy of his permanent stagnation in rank when you compare him to other soldier comps like Rusk or even early-game Jorgan. i'm not a fan of fictional or real militaries but this character's skillset as an officer has been a repeatedly underutilized resource narratively & it makes me want to eat glass

[vaugarde]

i know i know typical shounen issue but man. misa amane deserved better

[omarwolaeth]

thinking 'bout how the lads interact with what the bracelets represent, especially in their decks

[whump-captain]

- Day 21 -

Prompt: “Please”

---

@crash-bump-bring-the-whump​ i believe u said u wanted to see Ethan begging? here he is begging (◡‿◡)

this is probably longer than it needs to be but i had lots of fun writing the dialogue for once lol

---

CN: restraints, broken bone (pre-established), interrogation, strangling, torture, cutting, scalpels, hair grabbing, tape gag, bag over head

---

Ethan gasped when the bag was ripped off of his head. The light, though dim, was enough to make him wince after what felt like hours in the dark. He blinked quickly, trying to force the world back into focus.

The first thing he felt clearly was a grip of rope around his arms. His stomach sank. He lurched forward and the chair scraped on the bare floor. Pain shot through his arm, dispelling the haze completely. On instinct, he raised his right hand to shield himself and froze in surprise when he succeeded.

He was only tied to the back of the chair, not the armrests. The rope went around one of his biceps, then behind his back, and then around the other. It wrenched his shoulders back uncomfortably but still, a wave of nauseating relief washed over him. They didn’t tie down his broken arm.

A shadow fell on him and drew his gaze up. Ethan shuddered when Linde gave him a tight-lipped, professional smile.

“Good morning, Ethan,” Linde said. His voice was smooth and amiable but in his eyes was a glint of something cold and dangerous, like frostbite creeping through dying tissue. Circling the chair, he nodded his head towards Ethan’s arm. “I’ve done you a favour, as you can see. I’m hoping we can have a constructive conversation.”

Anger lit up in Ethan’s chest and made his face flush. How dare this man say that to him? After barely letting him speak the last time, after causing him so much pain?

“Me, too,” he hissed.

“Constructive and honest,” Linde added. “Lying only wastes both of our time.”

“Yeah.” Ethan’s voice shook like the rest of him. But behind the cracked lenses of his glasses, his gaze was hard. “But you’re the one who’s lying.”

Linde stopped his pacing. “Excuse me?”

“You don’t really believe I’m a spy. If you did, you’d turn me over to someone, or you’d- you’d kill me.” Ethan barely managed to get those words out. “It doesn’t make sense.”

Linde regarded him, his face unreadable. Ethan fought to keep his breathing even, hating how clear it was that he was afraid. He set his jaw tight and met the other man’s eye defiantly.

Finally, Linde turned. He tapped his fingers together behind his back, falling back into his slow prowl. 

“You’re perceptive,” he said. His small smile almost looked satisfied. “No, I don’t believe you’re a threat. If I did, you’re right, I would eliminate you.” He took a step forward and Ethan flinched. “But I see through you. You think that you’re above the consequences of what you do. You’re arrogant.”

“What?”

“You really thought you could infiltrate one of the most secure places in North America. You thought you could just… Walk in. And lie your way out of it.” Linde sounded almost offended. He lifted his chin slightly. “It’s about the principle of things. If I allowed something this brazen to go unaddressed, what kind of officer would that make me? Hm? If I didn’t find out the truth before turning you in?”

He leaned in close and all air seemed to leave the room. His shadow on Ethan’s face blacked out reality and pulled Ethan back through time, into the memory of agony.

“You’re wrong,” he managed through gritted teeth. “I didn’t infiltrate anything, you brought me here!” His voice rose and then cracked as his throat constricted. “You’re the one who’s arrogant because you refuse to listen to anything I say! I told you the truth, you’re just too stubborn to realise it.”

“Brazen,” Linde repeated. He seemed to savour the word. “I told you, I can see right through you. No matter how well you lie.”

He drifted to the other side of the room, where shadows outlined the shape of a table. Even though the distance between them grew, Ethan’s heart beat even faster now.

“Why do you need me to say anything, then?” he asked. He dug his fingers into the armrest to hide their trembling. “You made up your mind, you’re happy with your story, just turn me in, then. Let me talk to someone above you.”

“Like I said.” Linde ran his hand along the table’s surface and something clinked. “Principle. I don’t just want the truth. I want it from you.” 

The sudden force of his stare made Ethan recoil. Something cold crystallised in the air between them. He recognized the cold in Linde’s eyes and it made a hollow pit open in his stomach.

“Let’s start simple,” the captain said, taking a leisurely step forward. His hands were behind his back again. “How did you get to this island, Ethan?”

“On a boat.” Even the short sentence made Ethan’s breath come heavy. “It’s on the eastern shore, you can check.”

“Good. Now, how did you know where to find this island?”

“I- I followed a radar.” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his breathing even. “There was an anomaly registered by a weather station on the mainland and- I followed that. It didn’t lead to the island but the- the area around it. I- I didn’t know it was here. I almost crashed.”

Linde lowered his head and gave a quiet sigh. ”Weather station,” he repeated, almost amused.

“Yes! You can call them, they’ll tell you what time I left, which boat I took out, it’s all on the record.”

“You’re very thorough.”

“And you’re not!” The chair scraped forward with the force of Ethan’s shout. “Because you refuse to do the bare minimum to verify your claims and find-”

Linde seized his throat. The impact strangled Ethan’s words and pushed his head backwards.

“I was honest with you,” Linde said quietly. “Civil. And in return, you don’t just lie to me, you start insulting me.” His grip tightened. “I thought you were a smart man, Ethan, don’t make me change my mind.” 

Ethan couldn’t struggle. The rope held him fast, Linde’s fingers dug into his skin. With every torturous second, his lungs compressed, fighting, until it felt like they were on fire. His mouth moved soundlessly around smothered cries. Burning white danced in his vision, blurring everything into a cacophony of melting colours. A horrible buzz filled his ears - his own rushing blood. He barely heard Linde’s words:

“Let’s move on.”

Ethan strained pointlessly, he couldn’t reach the hand choking him. His fingers clawed at the air. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t run, he couldn’t breathe. 

Linde spoke loud and his voice ripped through the static in Ethan’s head: “You think I’m wasting time, let’s cut straight to the chase. Who sent you here? And choose your answer very carefully because, believe me.” He leaned in closer and squeezed Ethan’s throat, fingers like iron bars. “My patience is running thin.”

Then he released him. Ethan choked on a gasp and immediately convulsed in a coughing fit. Air forced itself back into his body and every breath made his chest feel like it would burst. He couldn’t stop his voice escaping, he wheezed and groaned with every involuntary, fitful exhale. Linde stood motionless, watching him. Waiting. 

“I wasn’t- sent here,” Ethan choked out finally. His throat burned, the pain of the forming bruises enclosed his windpipe and made every word hurt. “I’m not here for- whatever this place is. It’s the truth.” It wasn’t a shout anymore, but a plea. He fought for breath, fought to stay afloat in his own battered body. 

Footsteps made him look up. Linde’s silhouette doubled and swayed before him, turning back towards the table. When he came into focus, he was holding a scalpel.

 “Wait.” Ethan’s voice cracked. “You- you don’t have to-” he stammered. “Please, I don’t know what you want me to say.”

Linde grabbed a fistful of his hair and wrenched his head sideways. “I thought it was simple.” He brought the scalpel close to Ethan’s neck. “I want you to tell me who sent you.”

“I was- I’m- I-” The metal reflected in Ethan’s wide eyes. He was shaking so much his glasses slipped down his nose. “The- Th- The CIA! Fine? The CIA sent me, you don’t have to- Please, don’t do this, I’m-”

“Now you’re just making things up,” Linde said.

He sliced down, across Ethan’s clavicle. The blade parted fabric, skin, and muscle like paper. Ethan screamed, his body twisting with tension. Linde pulled his head back by the hair and cut open his shirt, exposing the deep wound. 

“That’s the first,” he said. He sank the scalpel into Ethan’s shoulder and dragged it slowly down. Metal scraped against bone. Pain burned through Ethan’s mind, forced a ragged, stuttering howl out of him. His breathless groans almost drowned out Linde’s ice cold voice when he finished:

“And that’s the second lie you’ve told me.” He tilted the scalpel and more blood poured out of the widened cut. “Are you still with me?” He brought his face close to Ethan’s. “Is this a waste of time?”

“Stop,” Ethan gasped. “Please. This is all- a mistake.” His breath hitched, words fragmented into high-pitched, desperate noises of pain. Linde’s eyes shone like a snowstorm.

“I’m losing my patience.”

The next cut was diagonal, crossing over the already damaged skin. Ethan’s scream rose and then faltered, he convulsed in the restraints. The blade tilted again and ran slowly just under the skin, slicing it away from muscle - one side, then the next. Lines of living fire spilled through Ethan’s body, one after the other, emerging with each new stream of thick blood pouring out. He could only sob now, his throat raw and lungs empty. He had no time to breathe between the cuts.

“Tell me.” Linde’s voice was no more than a hiss. “Anything.”

Ethan could barely see. The pain blurred everything into a red haze.

“Please,” he whispered.

The grip on his hair tightened. The added tension made him groan as the scored skin shifted. Then it disappeared and his head lolled forward. The room spun. Footsteps mixed with the pounding of Ethan’s heart in his ears.

Something made a loud scraping noise and then Linde said: “I’ll let you think about it.”

He pressed a strip of tape over Ethan’s mouth. Ethan wheezed desperately, his breath hitching against the barrier. Another cry died in his throat and only made it out as a muffled whimper. 

Then Linde put the bag over his head again. He said: “This can come off when you’re ready for a constructive conversation.”

When the next incision came, Ethan couldn’t even brace for it.

[llycaons]

tho I've also seen ppl say jc isn't an antagonist bc he's not completely evil and there are other bad guys but that's just not true from a literary perspective. an antagonist is, objectively, anyone who opposes the protagonist, which IS his role for much of the story. and there can be multiple of them in a work, they don't need to be on the same level of opposition or aligned at all. a school bully and a megalomaniac who wants to conquer the world are both antagonists

[good--merits-accumulated]

back on that fair folk au and i've got to say that these daddy issues are becoming steadily more apparent by the day

(some context for this scene: Todd has a run-in with Neil's dad, and it goes... not as badly as it could have been. but he still walks out with a busted face and a leetle bit of murderous intent. inspiration for this doubtless came from that one niccolò rising scene because dorothy dunnett's prose is so so marvellous... i haven't stopped thinking abt ribérac's hand "bursting" its way down claes' cheek since i read it)

[soundcrusher]

Two sad birds singing a song

Part 6 of the Spinoff set in the normal sentient Lost Light au ffrom @cuppajj is finished.

This time, it's just a bonding time between all the Phoenixes and Rodimuses.

Just as a small reminder, I'm calling sg/Rodimus in the spinoff 'Convoy'. (It's one of his aliases whenever he needed a name.)

.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.:():.

Phoenix was happily skipping down the halls, some paint buckets in his arms as he tried to figure out what to do with them. There was, of course, always the option of using them to prank Getaway. That self-absorbed mech who reminded Phoenix too much of Second Fiddle sure enough deserved another one. Especially after he tried to convince Snow to do something stupid.

Yea, maybe he will use some of the paints for a prank on Getaway, but most of it he’ll probably give to Snow. His counterpart seemed to also enjoy a few hobbies he also liked, painting being on top of it all. So, maybe the white and blue youngling would love to have some? But before Phoenix could truly make up his mind, Snow was already coming his way. Wings lowered, as he himself was looking like something was bothering him. Walking past Phoenix as if he didn’t see him, before stopping, muttered something very quietly, as if he was afraid someone could hear him, and continued walking after he looked around.

Now, that was something that caught Phoenix’s attention and he quickly stored his paints in his subspace, before following his counterpart. Being extra quiet as he followed him towards his and the other Rodimus’ ship. “Huh… weird…” Muttered Phoenix as he put both of his servos on his hips, while tilting his head. Snow is really a weird mech at times, but that still didn’t stop Phoenix from investigating, as he followed the other into the ship he himself could only describe as a ‘camper’. And in this ‘camper’, he found Snow sitting in front of a painting. One that reminded him of a painting he had in his own room. One he made himself and that depicted his family.

“You know… it’s weird…” Whispered Snow, as he placed a servo over the painting of someone who looks eerily like Lightlost, only darker, and Phoenix got the feeling that this might be his Lightlost’s evil counterpart. “They’re… nice… I… don’t know how to feel about it. It’s nice to have someone again who cares about you genuinely and who isn’t Roddy or anyone else who’s taking care of you. It’s… It’s like with Old Man again. It’s a warm feeling, a good one, a happy one but…” Snow let out a soft sigh, before looking over at Phoenix with teary optics. “There's still the shadow of ‘Their’ memory over me and I can’t… I can’t keep it from overshadowing everything. Sometimes, when I see Lightlost, I don’t see them. I see mine and… and…”

“And you feel sorry for not seeing them, but someone else whenever you look at them.” Finished Phoenix, as he sat down next to Snow. Wrapping an arm around his whimpering counterpart because he knew how he felt. Sometimes, it was hard for him to look at some of his new crew too. Especially Rodimus. Not because of him looking like a mech who hurt him, but rather because of the things he had to go through because of them sharing a resemblance. Things, he still didn’t feel comfortable talking about to anyone. At least with anyone from his new crew that is. Lightlost and Rodimus might know a few things, but Phoenix found out that it was easier talking with Snow about what happened with their past crew, because their experiences were almost the same. Of course, there were differences like Snow having Old Man as the only one who was kind to him, while Phoenix had Fools Shot, but Runningway and Second Fiddle being afts to them seemed to be a universal thing. And them being forced to change their paint to resemble Rodimus more whenever their crew were hunting Autobots also seems to be something the two had to go through. That and the feeling of abandonment when their crew left them behind in a dark place without even caring about what could happen to them, or the beatings for failing their missions, or the feeling of helplessness as they, yet again, tried to hide from their past crew, only to be dragged out of their hiding place, only to receive a ‘punishment’ for having a face they didn’t even want in the first place.

Primus, thinking about how they understood each other despite coming from different universes, caused Phoenix to let out a choked sob as he hugged Snow closer. Almost as if he wanted to protect his counterpart from all those painful memories, because he knew how painful they were. He knew what they can do to one's spark. Phoenix has felt it himself, after all. How the words and actions of his past crew, together with his own memories slowly broke him. Made him into someone who seeks out trouble, because everyone said that it was the only thing he was good at. Be a bother to everyone, because it kept everyone away as long as they didn’t need a punching bag. Something that carried over to his new life on the Lost Light, but only in the form of pranks.

And yet, despite their somewhat shared pain, Phoenix found himself jealous of Snow. Jealous, because Snow never got his dreams shattered. He still had the child-like innocence in his optics, while Phoenix wasn’t even sure if he still possessed it. His Rodimus said that it was still there, just very deeply hidden, but still. Phoenix was jealous of how Snow was able to still see the good in the world, while he always worried about the darkness lurking behind every corner. But he couldn’t hate Snow.

No, despite his jealousy, he couldn’t hate Snow. They had the same misfortune. The same pain, and it only made Phoenix more protective over his counterpart. Almost like a brother. Maybe that’s why they were here now. Crying in each other's arms, as they talked about their pain in the hopes of making it better, but it only made it worse.

That’s also how both of the primes found them. After having a lengthy discussion about some topics, and sg/Rodimus insisting on visiting Persecptor and Brainstorm in their workshop to see how far they were with returning them back to their universe, they have been stranded in this universe for more than two months already, both of the speedsters have noticed than none of their brothers have been seen anywhere and or bothered them for hours. By now, Phoenix would have usually set off a small prank that would get Rodimus out of his boring meeting while Snow would be seeking out Convoy for a hug and an escape from talking to the ‘undead crew’.

So, both of them decided to search for their little brothers, only to find them crying in Convoy’s and Snow’s little ship while hugging each other. And the sight alone caused both primes to jump into action. With Rodimus and Convoy trying to carefully separate them, only to find it to be an impossible task. Which left them no other choice to make a group hug, while they tried their best to soothe the upset younglings. With Convoy telling Snow that everything was okay, while Rodimus softly petted Phoenix’s head and held him tightly. And it seemed to help, because the two young sparks slowly let go of each other, only to cling to their respective brothers. Both seeking comfort in their own way,, with Snow burying his head in Convoy’s shoulder and crying, while Phoenix grabbed one of Rodimus’ servos and softly tugged at it before hugging it close to his chest, sobbing quietly. And that’s how they stayed for a while, until both younglings fell asleep from exhaustion. Or, at least it seemed like it.

“… I think this was the first time I have seen Phoenix cry like that.” Whispered Rodimus, as he adjusted the sleeping youngling in his arms while softly cradling his servo to his chest. “He doesn't like crying in front of others, not even me… Lightlost is the only one who sees him cry….” Whispered the prime, as he looked over at his doppelgäner. “Sometimes it makes me feel like I am failing him as a brother.”

Convoy could see in his counterpart's optics how much it was pulling at his spark that his brother didn’t want to see him cry. So, he let out a sigh, before shaking his head. “I think you’re forgetting that, apparently, our brothers seem to be more comfortable with mechs who have a certain… aura… even if it is fake in some cases.” Said the black and purple speedster, as he gazed down at his brother. Wiping away some of his tears, before hugging Snow tightly to his chest. “Unicron, I sound like Drift… But I think that’s the reason why your Phoenix isn’t crying in front of you. It’s either that, or he doesn’t want to bother you. You’re a captain and your whole crew is alive. You have a responsibility that I no longer have.” He sighed, before looking at the black and red youngling. Smiling softly. “Your brother probably doesn’t want to bother you, by putting more onto your shoulders. Even mine sometimes does it. You don’t know how long it took me to find out why he’s avoiding the medical exam after getting better…”

“Still… sometimes I think that I’m failing him. Especially after what happened with Overlord. I mean… look at him. He’s hurting, I can see it, but at the same time I can’t reach out to him. Everytime I try to, it’s as if he’s slowly drifting further away from me.” Rodimus sighed, before letting out a dry chuckle. “I’m sure that he hates me. I mean, I’m sure that things the past crew of your brother did, are the same his did to him. So… He must hate me, right?” The prime asked, but Convoy did not have an answer for him.

But the black and red youngling slowly opening his optics and reaching out to softly pat Rodimus’ cheek had one. And he said his answer with a smile as pure and innocent as that of a child’s. “I don’t hate you… Yes, my crew did bad things… and I was scared of you, but…. you wouldn’t be my brother if I hated you…” Muttered the youngling, before settling back down in Rodimus’ arms and snuggling closer to the primes body and the welcoming warmth it gave off.

And Rodimus could only glare over at his doppelgänger, as Convoy gave him a smug smirk that said ‘Told you so’, before sighing. “Yea, yea, I get it.” Was all he muttered, before the prime stood up with Phoenix in his arms. “We should better tug them in. There’s still work to do. And usually I don’t want to do it, but Ultra Magnus and Megatron will kick my aft if I don’t do it.”

“I know what you mean.” Said Convoy, as he stood up as well. Snow securely held in his arms, before both of the primes made their way out of the ship and towards their brothers rooms.

“Say, do you know about that one amusement park on that one planet with the neutrals?” Asked Convoy, after they tugged in their brothers and made their way towards the brig. “You mean the one with the roller coaster ‘Blitzflügel’? Yea, I do. Always wanted to visit that one, but never had the time.” Answered Rodimus, before he gave his doppelgänger a smirk. “Wait, don’t tell me we’re thinking the same thing right now, just because that planet is close and my crew and our brothers could need a small distraction.”

The darker prime only smirked back. Putting one servo on his hip, while doing a finger gun at Rodimus with the other. “Oh, we are totally thinking the same thing right now.”

“Field Trip!” Said the both of them at the same time.

And somewhere on the brig, Ultra Magnus and Megatron had a bad feeling without even knowing why.

[miithriin]

Thinking about Adar

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Does anyone else, like, entirely lack a belief system of any kind and just run on primal instinct? I’ll listen to multiple sides of an issue and understand every bit of nuance, get emotionally invested, and then not pick any of them, because I think the reasoning of the respective beliefs cancel each other out when compared side-by-side. Then primal instinct takes over and forces me into acting more adjacent to one side than the other, but my brain does not necessarily agree with the entire position— only a portion of it; while also believing a portion of the other positions.

Or perhaps I merely think I have no opinions because the majority of today’s belief systems are so one-sided, while my positions are four-sided, and therefore unacceptable because I’m “not allowed” to agree with more than one side in any capacity without being ostracized by all of them.

I am proverbially lukewarm and in the process of being vomited out of the mouth of Christ.