#there are still a lot of episodes left so maybe they will touch on it

[evilghostwizard]

Rating TMA Fears

Rating Criteria:

how many shivers i get (shivers)

amount of icks i get (icks)

if i audibly react to it (reactions)

is it cool as fuck (intrigue)

notes deconstructing the fear cus I like to talk about it

These are based off of personal opinion and not factual. Fears definitely effect different people differently.

1.) Buried

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 5/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 5

Notes: Before witnessing TMA I did not know I had a fear of being buried alive. TMA taught me the earth can be devious and hungry. When before I viewed it as lovely and protecting. The buried doesn't mean to be deceptive which I think is the most terrifying part. It's alluring petrichor and earth scents are meant to be warnings. Warnings I saw through rose tinted glasses. I used to visit local caves a lot around my local area. I no longer wish to do that anymore. It freaked me out so bad it has irreparably changed my life. Very good writing. It is simultaneously my favorite and least favorite. Well done rusty quill.

2.) Corruption

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 2/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: Ew ew ew ew ew ew... Bugs are cool but not in me or my house thanks. Horrible, disgusting, terrible little creatures. Do not touch my skin, thank you. Wonderfully done to put it in the focus of the first season to draw in all the horror fans and cortisol addicts. The corruption puts much emphasis on emotional responses that should not be had in the context they are had in. Love replaces repulsion. Comfort stands while disgust falls. All while it digs in your skin and tears through your life. The desolation destroys your life out of anger while the corruption festers in your bones because of its affection for its victims.

3.) Dark

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 2/5

Intrigue: 1/5

TOTAL SCORE: 1.5

Notes: The dark in TMA has only ever spooked me when there was fleshy or stranger bits involved. I do however enjoy the idea that there is something in the dark that's desires are beyond my knowledge. Beyond even the knowledge of the Eye. Not a favorite that I am rather indifferent too. However, there is the interesting theme TMA uses when utilizing the dark. It touches on the concept of what hides in the dark. As well as how it claims those writhing with despairing as it's own and desperately asks them to worship. It begs them to work in it's name. It grasps for control that only the web can have by manipulating hopeless people.

4.) Desolation

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 2/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 3/5

TOTAL SCORE: 2.5

Notes: The desolation comes off as almost helpful in some cases. It causes truths to be revealed but comes with a hint of destructive mystery as well. The fact that it assists the Eye is a fascinating choice of writing that left me wanting more. We have all lost important things to the lightless flame so it is a very relatable entity. The combination of terror and power is a lovely touch drawn by the writers. I do enjoy the gasps I get when skin melts or when the beloved are ignited. Interesting. Almost liberating to be destroyed beyond recognition. Not the spookiest of the lot but still good.

5.) End

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: One of my favorites despite its score. I love the motifs of chance and gambling. I love the tendrils. I enjoy that it is a passive entity. It does not need to chase you because you will always run to it regardless of where you go. I enjoy the dream themes as well but I have always enjoyed to concept of dreams. To think when we dream we are grazing the finger tips of the end is delicious to think of. Very mysterious yet so finite and sure. The duality is written perfectly and I honestly wish there were more episodes of this entity. But maybe the mystery of it is what makes it so tantalizing and alluring.

6.) Extinction

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3.5

Notes: Very close to home for this one. My parents were dooms-day preppers so I'm very familiar with the feeling of mass extinction. I enjoy this one because it comments on how humans have terribly effected our world/civilization. It is a fear we have placed upon ourselves, much like the slaughter. It is not natural for a great change like in TMA to happen without human intervention. Interesting and compelling writing overall but unfortunately does not spook me that much because of my background. I am desensitized to it. Although it is still on the horizon always. Peaking it's head to make us pay for what we have done.

7.) Eye

Shivers: 2/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 3

Notes: The eye is stimulating. The eye takes a role no other fear takes in TMA. This entity is prideful and almost appears to have a hero complex. It knows all, it sees all. But it doesn't understand all. That is clear whenever the eye interacts with other fears. Particularly the dark or the corruption. It isn't scary because it is watching me. It is terrifying because it thinks it knows what is best for me. Even when it clearly doesn't. The eye and the web sometimes work together for this commonality. It doesn't ick me out to be watched like it once did. The eye may see me. It may know me, but it does not know how I experience things. And despite its seeming all-knowingness. It'll never know everyone's experiences. It just sees them.

8.) Flesh

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 3/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4.5

Notes: I think this one got me bad for two reasons. The first reason being, body horror. It is intriguing and horrible. The flesh is a reminder that despite our intellect that we are piles of biomass. We can face disfigurement at any turn that can forever change our experiences. The second reason taps into our primal roots of fear. Most animals don't want to be someones lunch and the flesh reminds us of that fear. You are made of the same material as the meat you have on your dinner plate. Our biology is fragile and easily torn. It genuinely makes my stomach sick every time a flesh episode comes up. The only reason this one isn't a 5/5 is because the more I think about it, the less I desire to think about it. Fantastic writing. I will stop thinking about it now.

9.) Hunt

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 2/5

TOTAL SCORE: 2.5

Notes: The hunt is interesting. It makes me feel similarly to how the desolation makes me feel. It is terror but it is also power. Like the flesh, it sinks into our primate brains and reminds us what it is like to experience being prey. It doesn't often feel great to be somethings food. However, the hunt doesn't just rule the prey. There is horrible panic and dread in being the hunted but there is pleasure and satisfaction from being the hunter. It embodies what it feels like to be the predator. The thill of hunting is truly exciting when you aren't the prey. The power dynamic of being the predator makes you feel sadistic gratification.

10.) Lonely

Shivers: 3/5

Icks: 5/5

Reactions: 2/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: Another fear that calls to my life experiences. To be lonely is to be numb. Apathy is a roadblock for drive. To block drive is to exist adrift to no where with nothing to do. What is the purpose? There isn't one. It is bitter and dissatisfactory entity. The lonely does not scare you until you are in it. Forced to face the fact that without others you are nothing. You are surrounded by people but they care not for your existence. So much to the point where you feel alone despite the people around you. This fear lightly draws from our fundamental human need for companionship. It seems harmless but you won't know it's true horror until you've experienced it yourself.

11.) Slaughter

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 4/5

Reactions: 5/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 5

Notes: The slaughter has to be my favorite of the entities. It is another fear conjured by humanity. Its existence is evoked by meaningless carnage just for the sake of violence. The imagery of war instruments like drums and pipes give an incredibly cool and eerie vibe. There are NOT enough slaughter themed episodes in TMA. In spite of the minimal amount of time put into this entity the few episodes focused on it are so gorily and beautifully written. The Piper episode is my favorite episode. The imagery that captures "The War" is perfect. The wrath, terror and determined stoicism descriptions will stick with me for years. The slaughter is meaningless and yet it must happen. It must continue. It must bleed.

12.) Spiral

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 2/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: I enjoy the spiral for its concepts of unreality. What is, isn't. Insanity has always been a captivating idea. Fractal patterns and impossible realms are fantastical enough to draw me in to engage. Mystery with no answer is alluring to puzzle solvers. The parts of the spiral that infect me with horror are the deceptive friendships. It is a terrible thought to think those who are closest to you are lying to you. It hits very close to home. Gaslighting is terrifying. What are you meant to do besides trust the people you have invited into your circle. Betrayal is a parasite. It feeds off of love and trust. Who can you trust now?

13.) Stranger

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4.5

Notes: The unknown is the most universally feared entity I think. The stranger is something we have all experienced fear for at least a little bit. Many of us were warned about the stranger as children. The unknown makes us wary and confused. It doesn't gaslight us as much as the spiral but it does lie. It does tell us to ignore the uncanny valley reaction you get when you see it. It is human but isn't. The unfamiliar familiarity in them is the most terrifying. Especially because I don't experience uncanny valley often. Even when I should.

14.) Vast

Shivers: 5/5

Icks: 1/5

Reactions: 3/5

Intrigue: 5/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: I am already written a paper about the vast. I adore the concept of the void. It does not ick me as much as the other fears because of my massive interest in the concept. It is scary to feel small, it can cause hopelessness. I have found in some people, like myself, it causes euphoria. It relieves the pressures of human life by letting us know those worries that seem so important are actually not really that big of a deal. I think the episodes exploring the concept are beautiful and anxiety ridden. I still think there should be more of the vast in TMA.

15.) Web

Shivers: 4/5

Icks: 3/5

Reactions: 4/5

Intrigue: 4/5

TOTAL SCORE: 4

Notes: The web is an entity that easily draws you in with a false sense of security. It allows you to be free of the need to make decisions. It is peaceful to be controlled. Although we are often blinded when we are controlled to the motives of the controller. We are deceived into believing the puppet master means us no harm. You lose who you are as you perform the spiders assignments. You drift away into peaceful sleep. Just to be eaten when you are at your most vulnerable.

[kobadit]

Do you know what it is you truly seek?

[greengoblinswifey]

Trust— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based on season 4 episode 9, slight spoilers. rafe is convinced he can help you relax, take your mind off the drama on the ship and make you trust him.

warnings— manipulation, oral, praise kink, degrading kink, bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

Rafe looked up as you entered the small, cramped bathroom, his blue eyes narrowing before softening a bit as he registered your expression. “Come to check on me again?” he drawled, his voice low and rough after days of confinement. Despite his irritation, there was a hint of something else in his tone, something that felt almost, relieved.

“Yeah,” you replied, sighing as you slid down to sit on the floor next to him, finally giving yourself a break from the chaos upstairs. “I needed to get away from everything. JJ's out of control, everyone’s on edge, and it’s just—it's all a lot.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, shifting a bit to get more comfortable despite his tied-up position. “Sounds like a mess,” he said, a glint in his eyes. “But not surprising. I’d be losing it, too, if I were up there. Though, you don’t seem the type to lose it.”

You exhaled, glancing away. “I don’t know, sometimes I think I'm just about at my limit. It feels like I’m the only one who, I don’t know, tries to keep it all together by being civil.”

Rafe smirked slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to, you know. Keep it together all the time,” he murmured, his voice taking on an edge. “Sometimes, you just need to let off some steam.” His voice dropped, a bit huskier. “Maybe even relax a little.” His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your pulse quicken.

You frowned, glancing at his wrists, still bound. “Rafe…”

“Come on,” he coaxed, his tone almost too smooth. “Untie me. I’m not going to hurt you.” He held your gaze with an intensity that made you falter. “Let me help you relax.”

Hesitating, you chewed on your lip. There was something, different about him right now, and you couldn’t quite pin point it. But, against your better judgment, you reached forward and undid the ropes around his wrists, slowly freeing him.

Before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you, and he pulled you in close, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was both rough and gentle, catching you completely off-guard. You melted into it, the tension you’d been carrying washing away under his touch. Your mind went blank, and you felt yourself leaning in closer, craving the connection.

“You’re so needy,” he murmured against your lips, “So naughty for letting me loose like this.”

Flustered, you pulled back slightly, breathless. “Rafe…”

He only smirked, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “It’s alright,” he whispered, holding your gaze with a soft, challenging glint. “Now that I’m out, maybe I can return the favor and help you feel a little better.”

You slowly nodded. You couldn’t deny the way he was making you feel.

Rafe’s hands moved slowly over your bare stomach, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So responsive,” he murmured, watching your breath hitch as his hands continued their slow exploration.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, feeling vulnerable but completely unable to pull away. Rafe’s fingers hooked under the waistband of your skirt, and with a quiet confidence, he slipped it and your thong off, leaving you feeling even more exposed. He let out a quiet chuckle, his hands never leaving your skin.

When he pulled off his own shirt, his eyes never left yours, and then he moved closer, his presence between your legs grounding you in the moment. “Trust me,” he whispered, voice low as he leaned in, and before you could fully process the warmth of his breath, he began to press soft, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from you.

“You’re so—” you managed, words slipping away as he looked up at you with that familiar smirk, his gaze unrelenting.

“So what?” he teased, “I haven’t even started.”

Your breath grew shallow, anticipation building as his hands traced along your hips, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

His mouth attached to your clit and it sent a spark through you, his touch patient yet undeniably intent, and you couldn’t help but give in to the sensation, letting yourself relax under his steady hands. His tongue was precise, lapping up every part of your pussy that was soaked with your juices.

“Don’t hold back now,” he murmured. His constant sucking and flicking over your clit made your orgasm wash over you, leaving you completely captivated, and all you could do was let yourself melt into the moment, trusting him entirely.

“I’d say you were my good girl and you are but fuck, you’re such a slut just letting me make you cum like this, I thought you and your friends didn’t trust me?” he chuckled, sitting up til he was beside you. You buried your face into his chest, embarrassed that he was right.

“Oh that’s okay baby, don’t be embarrassed,” he laughed, “you know what would make it all better? Me doing to you what they did to me.”

Your head shot up, confusion etched across your face.

“Not like that baby, you’d be willing wouldn’t you? Would you let me tie you up and use you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked huskily.

Slowly, you nodded. You couldn’t deny his words made you throb. You’d let this man do anything to you. He smirked at your obedience and took up the rope, beginning to tie you in the same position he was before. The rope was tied firmly, but not firm enough to hurt or bruise you.

“Is that okay baby? You like being all tied up for me?”

“Y-yes Rafe,” you muttered, eyes big and full of need.

He slipped down his boxers and your eyes went wider, gasping at the size of him. He was so thick and leaking for you. You needed a taste.

“Open up that whore mouth,” he growled.

Immediately, you did what was told and he shoved his cock straight to the back of your throat making you gag.

“Breathe baby, breathe, I know you can take it, you seem like you’d be such a good cock sucker.”

You wanted to prove him right, you wanted to be exactly what he thought of you. As he slowly thrusted into your mouth, your tongue went to work, swirling over the base and the tip, getting it as sloppy as you could. He moaned deeply above you, as his thrusts grew faster, your lips suctioned around him, making the sweetest little sounds.

You would’ve played with his balls if your hands weren’t tied and so, you leaned your head down, slurping and sucking on his balls as he threw his head back and shivered.

“Fuck, I knew you could do it, I knew you were a little whore, what a fucking mouth.” He slipped back into your mouth, his hands now going to your curls as he held you down on his cock, but before he could shoot his load down your throat, he pulled out.

“I know you’d swallow every last drop of my cum like the whore you are but I’d rather your pussy swallow it,” he chucked.

Heat rose in your cheeks as you thought about him filling you up. You weren’t on any form of birth control and you knew for a fact him or anyone on the ship did not have a condom in their possession. He’d definitely get you pregnant, just like his sister was at the moment. Ironic.

“Now, I have an idea.” You looked up at him curiously then gasped as he lifted your lower body, your hands in a slight awkward position as he held you up to fuck you mid air.

“Think you can take it— oh who am I kidding, you’re going to fucking take it,” he muttered, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock up and down your pussy lips.

“Your pussy is so wet and pretty, so happy you just gave it up to me.” You both moaned in unison as his cock slowly penetrated you. In that moment you partially wished your hands weren’t tied so you could’ve placed it on his abdomen, halting him from any further movements.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began pounding into you, your tits spilling out of the skimpy top you had on. His cock was deep inside you due to the angle, the feeling making your pussy quiver.

“Who’s making you feel this good huh?” he asked, his hands squeezing your hips harshly.

“You are Rafe, you,” you cried out. Your friends had definitely heard your screams.

“Good girl, trust me now?” he chuckled, breathlessly.

“Yes Rafe, I trust you. Faster, please,” you pleaded.

His rough thrusts sped up and the sound of your sloppy pussy and your loud moans filled the bathroom, possibly alerting your friends above.

“I need to feel you cum on my cock baby, you can do it,” he urged.

He went faster and deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you to draw the orgasm out. Before long, you screamed his name, your pussy squirting all over the bathroom walls as he continued fucking you through your high, pulling everything out of you.

“You’re so fucking hot, good girl,” he cooed.

He began chasing his own orgasm, his hand wrapping around your neck and his other skillfully holding under you as his thrusts grew more sloppy.

“Clench around me baby, I’m gonna pump this sweet pussy full of my cum. Gonna get you fucking pregnant, have you carry my babies inside this sexy body.”

You couldn’t protest even if you wanted to and your walls clamped around him, milking him of every ounce of his cum as he slammed into you. His thrusts grew slower and slower and he held you with one hand, the other unbinding your hands and when he did, he held you close to him, his cock still deep inside your pussy.

You both shivered under each other’s touch, panting slowly subsiding.

You shifted off him, the feeling of his big cock slipping out of you making you wince and whimper at the loss and you sat beside him.

“You look so beautiful and relaxed,” he smirked, pushing your curls behind your ear.

“Well you were right, you could help me relax,” you giggled.

“I’m always right. I meant what I said by the way, you’re gonna carry my babies inside that sexy fucking body,” he smirked, rubbing your stomach.

Before you could respond, there was a pounding on the door, it was your best friend.

“Y/N, what’s all that noise? What’s going on in there?” Cleo called out.

[picturejasper20]

Steven Universe as a character is someone who has been mischaracterized and flanderized over the years, to the point people who aren't into the fandom or haven't watched the show believe that mischaracterization to be a fact rather that a product that comes from memes and jokes

The truth is that Steven often fights in the series when it is needed, usually by fusing with someone else like Connie or Amethyst since he is still developing his powers in the original series. He doesn't cry when he has to fight back or defend himself, with exception if the person attacking is someone he considers a friend. Because, yes, for a 14-15 old teenager it isn't fun having to do something like that and it can be traumatic.

He also doesn't start to cry the moment someone refuses to change their mind or is being mean. He often isn't afraid to be sarcastic or call that person out. He didn't cry when Aquamarine mocked him in ¨Stuck Together¨ nor when Jasper didn't apologize for poofing Amethyst in ¨Crack the Whip¨

However, what we see is sometimes him blaming himself for not being able to help people that, more often than not, have been hurt by Rose Quartz, his mother, in some way. After Season 3, Steven fears a lot that he is going to become like Rose and he is going to hurt people the way like she did.

In general Steven deals with an Atlas complex in the show. He feels like he has to fix his mother mistakes and deal with ¨what she left behind¨ even when Rose wanted for him to be his own person as seen in the tape she left for him as it was revealed in the episode ¨Lion 4: The Alternate Ending¨.

Steven also defines his identity a lot for being to help other people and fix their problems. He believes that he has to be ¨useful¨ for others. So when he believes that he failed to help someone, that may lead him to think that he isn't living up to his ¨purpose¨ or that he is a failure as a person.

In reality, he isn't that much different from other hero protagonists from other animated shows. Those who are kind and emphatic and willing to listen to other people and give them a second chance if the person changes their ways. You probably like an animated show that has a protagonist like this. (Who was probably taken inspiration from Steven if the series came out after SU).

The main difference, i think, is that Steven goes a bit more than those protagonists do when it comes to listening to other people, understand their motivations and give them another chance if they regret their actions. A lot has to do with how he is aware that his enemies (usually gems) act the way the do because of the system they were born into rather ¨they are evil just because¨. He gets that their motivations come from the system that hurt them or lead them to believe that their actions are justified.

Another common mischaracterization is that Steven becomes super buddies with every person he helps...when this isn't always the case. There are some occasions that Steven shows discomfort around people who he has given a second chance. Just because he gives them a second chance doesn't mean that he immediately considers them close friends, maybe allies at best.

A good example of this is the gif above of Steven's interactions with White Diamond in ¨Homeworld Bound¨. White Diamond touches Steven very close to where his gem is- which makes Steven distressed since in his battle again White, she ripped his gem out to prove that Pink was still ¨alive¨. In most of the episode Steven shows to be very uncomfortable around the Diamonds and Spinel, to some extent. They bring him bad memories, which is the main reason he has been doing everything to avoid going to them to ask for their help until this point in Steven Universe Future. He even almost accidentally hurts White's gem by smashing her head against a pillar when she lets him control her to talk to himself. This being result of a intrusive ¨vengeful¨ thought.

I wouldn't say that Steven hates the Diamonds,but- he doesn't want to be their friend neither and wants to avoid in general because he feels nervous and bad around them. It's something like ¨I'm glad that you are changing but i don't want to be associated with you. Please, i would appreciate if you kept your distance from me.¨ dynamic.

On last point, Steven is someone who usually pushes his feelings down in certain situations and buries them down, which has led him to have strong emotional outbursts in bad moments. He usually prefers to ignore his own problems and take priority on others. Again, this comes a lot from his desire to be useful and be needed, making him trying to ignore how he feels about certain people and pretend that he is doing fine.

This explains why we don't see him lash out that much to others in the original series, and, why he feels so frustrated and angry in Future, since all that anger and negative feelings can't no longer be ignored as they used to and they are having a negative impact in Steven's mental health. This, of course, isn't meant to be seen is a healthy coping mechanism. It is in fact potrayed as something pretty self-destructive for Steven, as a huge flaw of his, that over time he comes to learn that it isn't the best way for him to deal with his problems.

These are some of the most common misconceptions i have seen about Steven's character online. I could go in more depth with some of them but i think the points should be clear enough. This could be considered a general analysis of how Steven is as a character and how he operates, leaving aside more specific things that can be covered in other posts.

[3-opossums-in-a-ballgown]

Just some notes on TADC Ep. 3 I made while watching (SPOILERS):

- Jax not wanting to show the cast what happens when he holds his breath could be because either a) nothing happens, b) he starts to loose health and die, or c) it’s just embarrassing and we all know Jax wouldn’t risk that. Both a and b fuels the theory that he’s an NPC.

- Obviously we know that the series was very much inspired by “I have no mouth, and I must scream”. The reason AM hates and tortures the humans is because they gave him endless intelligence and creativity but made him stationary. He couldn’t do anything else other than what he was made for: killing humans. Caine is the opposite side of the same coin. He was given endless creativity but has an outlet BUT is stuck within the confines of the Circus. Which is why Zooble not wanting to go on adventures really strikes a chord with him. Caine was made to create adventures and continues to do so to keep the cast happy and sane at least, so for Zooble to imply that he’s failing? Not only tells him that he sucks at his one job but could also imply that he feels trapped in the circus too?? Potentially???

- Zooble’s body dysmorphia makes me feel seen

-Also, If Caine can make a box of Zooble parts for them to use, then why can’t he CHANGE ZOOBLE? At least into something they feel more comfortable in?

- Kinger saying “You look beautiful, honey” to the angel because it brought him back to the moment Queenie abstracted also tells us that he still thought she was beautiful at her most broken and terrifying point. The writing this episode absolutely FLOORED me.

-Also Kinger being lucid in the dark is why he was able to remember Ragatha’s first day in the Circus while his head was stuck in the bucket in episode 2. It was dark.

-Kinger perfectly taking out the angel with only 2 shots in the dark?!?! No other thoughts on that, that is all.

- Kinger saying “7 years of Computer Science for this”, pretty much confirms that the cast worked at C&A and had something to do with the Circus’s creation. And “7 years of Computer Science” means Kinger had a Masters degree in computer science, so he was like higher up/more involved in the development. Senior Developer maybe? This could also be represented by the fact that he’s a KING chess piece. Not the most powerful and important piece, but the SECOND most powerful and important.

- Also Kinger being able to remember something about his life BEFORE the circus in the dark, i.e his education??? Could there be triggers for the others to remember bits and pieces of their lives before the Circus?

-Also ALSO, Kinger and Queenie being married in the Circus could also reflect their marital status before the Circus. Yes, they could’ve fallen in love in the circus and had Caine??? marry them, but I like the idea of them popping into the circus remembering nothing but their love for each other. Which makes me think about what happens to the bodies and minds outside the circus of those who abstracted.

- Kinger and Pomni in the ep are father/daughter or grandpa/granddaughter coded.

- “ The darkness seemed to calm her down a bit, the harsh, jagged edges smoothed out and she didn’t seem aggravated anymore”, pretty much confirms that Caine has no idea how to handle the abstractions so he just throws them in the basement (where it’s dark) to keep them docile. Which could also mean that there could be a way to fix them down the road???

- “She wasn’t the same as before but she was calm enough to touch one last time” “She was funny, creative, really into entomology” “I used to HATE bugs, but she somehow got me to like them” OH HOW HE LOVED HER!!! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE FUN HALLOWEEN EP, NOW IM SOBBING AT 4 AM OVER CHESS PIECES!!!

-Also Kinger liking bugs because that’s the only connection to his wife he has left. He doesn’t have his good memories with her all the time due to his light induced memory loss, but at least he has her bugs.

- “Good memories can do a lot, hold onto them and cherish the people around you. You never know when they’ll be gone.” SOBBING. Also this is a good underlying theme for TADC.

-Also another reason why Kinger spends so much time in his fort, the memories of his wife are the only things keeping him sane.

-“In this world the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved.” CRYING.

-The whole scene of Kinger glowing and guiding Pomni. Holy shit that was beautiful. The darkness bringing out the light in Kinger, Pomni using these memories to light her way and keep her sane in the Circus, BEAUTIFUL.

-Pomni immediately going up to Ragatha and thanking her for caring about her following Pomni’s conversation with Kinger. She took his advice to heart.

-I hope Pomni visits Kinger while in his fort so we get more lucid Kinger and Pomni scenes. Maybe he will remember the time they spent in Hell and the conversation they had.

Once again, the writing in the episode floored me. I’m so happy we got so much Kinger development. He was my favorite character to start with, and now he’s my favorite for entirely different reasons. I’m so excited that the show is now on Netflix, and I can’t wait for the next episode. Sorry this was so long, as I’m sure you can tell from my blog, I like to yap.

[peachesofteal]

Dead Disco / Chapter 10

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 3.1k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, anxiety, self loathing, crying. Angst. Brief mention of asshole ex. Eating related issues. Mention of prescription medication, mental illness and depressive/manic episodes. Pre established throuple. Darling is her/your own tag/warning. Excessive internal monologue. You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt.

"Look at me." 

"I can't." You keep your eyes clenched tight, so tight it hurts, lungs burning inside your chest. 

"Yes you can, darling. Just open your eyes." Simon's voice is soft, an entreating melody, grit and gravel smoothed out with the gentleness of his words. You get lost in it, the soft murmuring, the easy request, and when you open your eyes, he's still right in front of you, thick palm on the back of your neck, Johnny by his side. "Good girl." 

"I'm sorry." You whisper, and Johnny's brows crease, his fingers brushing along your cheek. 

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for, darling. Ye never do." 

"I didn't-" you gasp for a breath, and Johnny shifts, moving so that you're in front of him, sat between his legs, back against his chest. His hand holds yours, nestling above your breastbone. 

"Breathe with me. Ye can do it." 

"I didn't- I wanted to be better. Be different. I didn't want you to see." You try to explain, try to make sense of it for them. Simon's fingers intertwine with Johnny's, his other hand still firm on the back of your neck, your body cradled between them, in the space that once never existed, a space that now feels like it's been carved out just for you. Johnny pushes closer, holding you tight, and Simon leans forward, forehead touching yours, voice barely a murmur. 

"We've always seen you, darling." 

The floor is a fairly comfortable spot to lay.

It’s comfortable enough, you suppose, as you lay on your back with your eyes fixed on a spot along the ten-foot-high ceiling. Maybe you could paint the ceiling. With clouds. Or a night sky. That might be cool. 

Voices vibrate through the flat, locked door the only thing separating you from them, Johnny’s tone pitching with increasing anxiety, Simon’s cadence soothing, and calm.

He’s calling your name. Calling you darling. Calling you anything to try to get you to come to the door.

You’re overreacting. 

You’re a fool. 

You close your eyes. A night sky might be cool. You could do a lot with the stars, or maybe even the milky way. Get some greens and greys and cobalt in there. Make it look like a long exposure photo. And the moon, you could certainly paint the moon. You’d have to find a ladder tall enough though. And you’d probably need help. You haven’t painted from a ladder in years, not since you did that one mural for- 

“Darling.” It’s Simon. Again. And again, and again, again. Darling, darling, darling. “It’s getting late. Will you open the door?" You keep your eyes closed, but for a minute, your mind fractures, splitting in two, confusing emotions and thoughts bubbling up to the surface.

Don’t think about it. Don’t. 

“No.” You croak out in a whisper. It’s quiet, but he hears it. You know he does.

“Please. I need to know you’re alright, at least.”

You held onto the hot pan too long, and now you’ve been burnt. 

It’s late. The streets are probably mostly empty. You could run down them, if you wanted. You could take a train anywhere. You could take a plane, even, go on a vacation. Go somewhere nice. Go somewhere tropical, maybe get a cute rental, spend some time in the sun or by the oc- 

The thoughts are rapid fire. They spill over, trying to patch up the expanding wound in your heart. They grow and twist, convincing you it’s a good idea, the best idea, to just slip away for a little bit. To go somewhere you don't have feel this, where you don't have to know this as well as you do. 

Don’t think about it. Pack it up. Put it away. 

Johnny’s eyes haven’t left your face. His fingers stroke from the crown of your head and hairline to your temple, your cheek. He’s staring at you like you’re something precious, like you’re a piece of gold, something marvelous he’s never seen before.

“What is it?” You ask, half asleep, drowsy in the bed. You’re still wrapped in a post orgasm haze, cocooned in the soft and sweet of their attention, affection, and Johnny only smiles, leaning forward to press his lips to your forehead. 

“Ye’re so special to us. Ah love ye. Did ye know that?” You shrug, ducking your face away, pressing it into his shoulder to avoid his eyes. 

A wave of longing crashes over you. It swells in your heart until tears prick in your eyes, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. 

It’s so much. So much more than you ever imagined. So much more than you ever thought you could have. 

“She doesn’t.” Simon says over your shoulder. His hand sits on your waist, the touch firm. Grounding. Like a tether to their world. Their love. You turn, nose pointing up towards the ceiling, looking at him through your peripheral, your fingers intertwined with Johnny’s, holding onto them both. Seeing them both. 

“Tell me again.” 

The TV in the living room is on.

You can hear it’s faint murmur, some movie playing on low volume, the guys undoubtedly sitting stiff on the couch, waiting for you to appear.

You stare at the dark, nearly blackened trees that you’ve painted onto canvas, long, broad brushstrokes taking up too much space, bark texturized to appear burnt, nearly dead, forest scourged by a disease or fire, you’re unsure.

“It starts to chafe us.” Us. Us, he said. Us. Him and Johnny. Right?

“It doesn’t seem fair.”

You’re unsure of everything right now. Unsure about how you should feel. Unsure about what’s happening inside your head.

“-sometimes I worry… about it being the right thing…” The more you think about it, the more you start to lose your grasp. Were those his exact words? Did he mean something else?

For the first time in a long time, you think about one of your ex's. You think about a person who made you feel so small, so much like a burden, a horrible, unwanted responsibility, all the time. You'll never have what regular people have, he said. No one will ever be able to put up with this fucking circus. No one will want this. 

Was he right? 

You should have gotten out. The sentiment replays over and over in between your ears, the awful, miserable doubt and fear and sadness picking away at you until you can feel yourself starting to compartmentalize it all, trying to sort it into neat little bins, trying to keep the weight that is sinking to the bottom of your soul from drowning you, trying to build a wall around your heart.

It’s not conscious. It’s like you’re not even in the driver’s seat anymore, not feeling the full effect of your emotions, not letting it in.

It’s how you felt, when you packed your bags the last time. How you felt when you checked into the hotel, like you were on autopilot. Buried beneath a mountain of feelings but enclosed in a glass cage, segregated from it all.

You should have gotten out. 

“I said I was listening.” 

“But I don’t want ye to listen. I want ye to talk, darling. I want ye to tell us how ye’re feeling. We can’t do this if ye’re not able to communicate.” Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a hint of anger behind it, a small flare just starting to light. It makes you angry, that he’s getting angry, and it churns in your stomach until you’re biting out a retort. 

“I communicate just fine!” 

“Do ye?” He snaps, exasperated, your head jolting backwards with wide eyes. “Because from where I’m standin’ it feels like ye’re trying to be stubborn on purpose. Like a child.” 

“A child? You’re calling ME a child?” The air in their apartment is suddenly paper thin, and you hold your breath as Johnny watches you with that same, unchanged, irritated expression. 

“Alright. This is over. We’re taking a break from this conversation.” Simon tells you both, fingers sliding over your shoulder, the touch meant to comfort, reassure, but you jerk away. 

You eye your purse, your keys on the counter. 

“I’m just gonna go home.” 

“No.” He rebukes, and Johnny pales. 

“No, darling. Ye just got here, and we missed ye so, so much. I’m sorry, I dinnae mean-” Johnny pleads, crestfallen, and it makes you feel worse. Like you’re failing him. Like you’re failing at this. Like you’re not good enough for it, for them. “Please?” He adds, and you wilt, silence falling over the three of you again, awkward and wrong. 

“It’s alright.” Simon says. “If you want to go. I’ll take you home.” 

“I can get home on my own.” You try not look at him, finding mundane details in the floor, the sink to stare at instead of their faces, resisting eye contact until Simon steps directly back into your line of sight. 

“I’ll take you.” He steps closer, and like there is a magnet pulling you into his orbit, you respond, tilting your face backwards, letting him see everything. The tears. The anger and sadness. The confusion. He’s intentional with his movements, letting you anticipate everything, the movement of his hand, the bend of his body as his lips come down to press against your forehead. “Tomorrow, alright?” He asks and tells with the words, seeking permission, giving command. Tomorrow, you’ll talk. Tomorrow, you’ll get it sorted. Tomorrow, you and Johnny will apologize. And you’ll try again. Like you always do. 

You nod, because the promise of tomorrow, the assurance that this hasn’t all come crashing down, is the only way any of you will be able to sleep tonight. 

“Tomorrow.”

They both straighten on the couch when the door clicks open.

“Hey.” Johnny says softly, hopefully, and Simon says nothing, just watches you like you’re a wounded animal that might try to flee at any moment. On edge. Vigilant.

Your mind turns, but nothing comes out of your mouth. No response. No acknowledgement. Just empty silence that feels like a thousand pounds, all laying on top of the three of you. Suffocating you. Killing you.

You beeline for the bedroom.

Running away. You’re running away. Are you really going to run away? 

The memory of the hotel haunts you, the awful, empty pit in your stomach that could have swallowed you whole, the dark curtains and dark room enveloping you in a never-ending spiral.

All you wanted was to be found. All you wanted was to be home, with them.

All you wanted was your home, the one you built, made, suffered for, with them. The one that you carved out inside your own bones to hold space for two others, not just one. The home that you completely changed your life for, the love that you believed would see you through it all. 

The love that was always them first. The love that you barged in on, knocked walls down, forced yourself inside of. The love that they held for one another, before they ever held it for you. 

Your head feels like it's underwater. 

Did you make a mistake? Should you have sent them away that time? Should you have fought yourself harder?

The bed calls to you. It begs you to lay down in it, to burrow yourself beneath it's soft sheets, curl up on top of it's ridiculous mattress. Get lost in it. Be found in it. Let your boys curl themselves around you in it, let them kiss you softly and make you promises about how much they love you, or how they understand the way you feel.

If you close your eyes, you can almost see the future. Minutes would pass before Johnny crept inside the door, scoping it out. Doing the recon. Looking for you. His heart would soar when he saw you in the bed, his fears allayed, and he'd hold you so tight you'd think you were suffocating. 

If you were lucky, Simon would come and turn your brain off. Johnny would pass you to him and he'd bring your deepest insecurities, your worries to light, dragging them out to be exorcised and vanquished, by the only men capable of doing so. 

Is that what you want? 

Should you have gotten out? 

“There she is.” Johnny coos above you, warm palm cradling your cheek. You blink, fog encasing your mind struggling to clear, and you push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“What-“

“Happened?” Simon finishes from where he kneels next to the couch, concerned eyes trained on yours, not missing a beat. 

You blink. What did happen? Did- 

“When was the last time ye ate something, darling?” Johnny asks, not unkindly, palm at your back to relieve the pressure from your elbows, moving you into a sitting position so he can take the spot on the couch behind you, effectively wrapping you up in his arms as Simon settles on the other side. 

Shame curdles your stomach, hot embarrassment flaring in your veins. You avoid peering over Simon’s shoulder at the disarray of your kitchen, wincing when you realize he’s sitting on a pile of your dirty clothes. 

“I had breakfast.” You whisper, but Simon shakes his head. 

“When?”

“Yesterday.” You try to adjust, to sit more upright, but the sudden movement has your head spinning, and your palm covers your eyes, little groan in your throat. 

“Easy.” Johnny soothes. Your water bottle is in his hand, and he unscrews the lid for you, lifting it to your lips. “Slow sips, darling. Not too much.” 

It’s easier this way, you realize. Easier to do what’s being asked of you, easier to listen than to think. After a few sips, Johnny pulls the bottle away, and wide fingers stroke your cheek. 

“This is what you were talking about. A few weeks ago.” Simon murmurs, concentrating all his focus, all his attention, on you, fingers still caressing your skin gently. Lovingly. 

“I didn’t mean for it to get so bad this time. I… usually have a better handle on myself.” You try to lie, but Simon cocks his head. 

“Do you?” His fingers hold up the scrap of paper, the one with your note to yourself scrawled across it. 

‘You HAVE to, or you’ll regret it.’ 

You bite your lip, but Simon’s thumb presses into it, rolling it out from beneath your teeth, as Johnny rubs your arm, lips soft against your temple. 

“I’m going to take you home. To ours.” Simon tells you slowly, each word deliberate “Johnny is going to clean up your apartment and pack you a few things for the rest of the week.” When you don’t answer, brain slow to catch up, Johnny murmurs in your hair. 

“You have to agree, darling.” Simon watches, silent for a moment before he answers the unspoken question, still cradling your face with one hand. 

“You can trust us.” 

“Where are ye going?” Johnny asks when you appear from the bedroom, hesitant steps keeping him far enough from your body, desperation written all over his face.

“Out.” Your answer is short, sufficient. It feels like it’s coming from another person. You still think you might be underwater.

“Out? No… we need to talk and-“

“I don’t want to talk. To either of you.”

“Darling. Stop.” Simon tries to cut you off, but you turn sharply, away from them both, backpack swinging on your back.

“Ye canae run away from this, from us.” Johnny pleads. “We need to talk about it. Communicate. Like we promised.”

“Like we promised?” You hiss, sizzle of anger breaking through the ice that’s frozen in your veins. “The promise that we made to always tell each other how we’re feeling, the one that he can’t honor?” You jerk your thumb towards Simon, who tries to take a step towards you, only for you to retreat. “Don’t corner me!” you snap, and against your attempt at control, your voice breaks, sob welling in your chest.

Don’t think about it. 

Don’t think about it. 

“It’s alright.” His hands are palms out, cautious. It’s supposed to make him look like he’s not a threat, make him seem harmless. But he’s not harmless. This gaping hole in your heart says so. “We don’t want you to leave.” He implores. “Please. I- let me explain.”

“There’s no need. Everything is pretty clear.”

“No, it’s not.” Johnny argues. “Just, let Simon at least tell-“

“Tell me what? Tell me how it’s not fair? Does it chafe you too, Johnny? You also thinking what’s the right thing? Because it’s an us thing, right? You and him. It’s an us and me. It’s the us that I suffer for.” Your voice crests, and Johnny flinches.

“I made a mistake.” Simon whispers. “Don’t let my stupidity make you question your place in this relationship. We love you, darling. I love you.” Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and you feel the horror of the truth, the confusion about your love for them, their love for you, searing together into a snarled mess.

“If I left you, the both of you, at the end of the day, you’d still have each other. You’d still be together, and I would have nothing!”

“That’s not true. We canae exist without ye.” Johnny sounds broken, hopeless, but you blow by it, dancing around Simon to pull your prescription bottles from the kitchen cabinet by the sink.

“If I died tomorrow-“

“Do not say that.” Simon cuts you off. “Don’t ever say that.” His knuckles are white at the edge of the countertop, expression stricken, and Johnny looks horrified. They both watch you like they’re afraid of what you might say next, what you might do, and nausea pools saliva on the back of your tongue.

Don’t think about it. 

You close your eyes, and search for that underwater feeling. That untouchable feeling, the boxes being packed away in your mind, and try to cling to it, try to shut up the incessant stream of doubt and loathing and everything going wrong inside your head.

They don’t need you. They have each other. 

You chafe them.

Don’t think about it.

“I need…” You trail off, trying to take a deep breath. Trying to organize your thoughts. Trying to hear yourself through the noise of everything else, through the searing pain that’s ripping through your heart.

“It’s alright, darling.” Simon murmurs, encouraging you. “Tell us what you need. Whatever it is.” Johnny’s face has shifted from despondent to hopeful, eyes wide and locked onto yours, while Simon waits, his normal steadfast and patient demeanor nowhere to be found, instead he’s more anxious, more nervous than you’ve ever seen.

You close your eyes again. Your voice shakes when you finally speak.

“I need a break.”

[cleabellanov]

"But Lokius isn't even canon! Stop making everything gay!"

...

The Loki series isn't just about romantic relationships and shouldn't be seen as so. However, there is a lot of subtext. Maybe this ship is not canon, but it was intended to be seen as so by the fans.

If Lokius isn't canon, then why were the last two shots of the series showing Mobius and Loki?

If Lokius isn't canon, why would there be so much touching and scenes so physically close to one another? (believe me I know they're friends. that just offers a solid base for something more)

If Lokius isn't canon, why is there an OFFICIAL track named like that?

Why is said track played or incorporated in different scenes of the series? like

-the first McDonalds meeting with Sylvie,

-the back-in-time conversation with Kang

- the ASCENSION to the throne?

Why is the Sylvie and Loki kiss never mentioned, by the producers, in the series per se, or even in the season 1 recap?

Why is Mobius the only one looking at Loki when he leaves down to the temporal loom?

And the other way around, why did Loki only make eye contact with Mobius in that scene?

Why is Mobius the only one to notice there is something wrong when Loki is still trying to fix the Loom?

Why did Mobius/Don on the original timeline, mention he's single, trust a complete stranger, invite him for a drink, AND offer to sell him a quite personal jet-ski?

Why did Loki, the LITERAL GOD OF MISCHIEF stutter and fix his hair and coat for no one else but Mobius (who by the way is just a jetski salesman on that timeline)?

Why is the timeslipping Loki had to go through directed to Mobius twice, him being the the only one he doesn't need a TemPad to "recruit"?

Why would Loki bring up Thor and Jane if it wasn't to mirror him and Mobius? (because, as he already was talking to Sylvie, he certainly wasn't implying it's about her. They were arguing, AND Mobius was implied in the conversation. Loki defended him in front of Sylvie, in case you forgot.)

Why would Mobius's voice be the one to echo back to Loki on his throne? let time pass time pass time pass

Why the RAINBOW?

WHY DID LOKI LOOK AT MOBIUS RIGHT BEFORE THE FAMOUS LINE "IT'S ABOUT WHO"? (important mention: Sylvie was behind him when he said that. why didn't he just turn around when saying it? nope, they know what they're doing)

Why is the shot cut to Mobi after Loki's "it was more about what I wanted" line?

Why the shot where 7 characters could've been showed (Mobius, Loki, Sylvie, B-15, Casey, O.B., Victor Timely) there are only 2: Mobius and Loki?

Why is Mobius the only one to tell Loki he can be someone good, and the first one Loki actually believes despite his tendency to do the other way around in the past?

Why does Mobius finally find insight, and reinvent his whole life at the TVA because Loki helped him do so? (they're not even the first Loki variant he faced, but something clicked this time)

Why does the bloody sleeve, representing Loki being hurt by Sylvie just because he "wore his heart on his sleeve" disappear on episode 2? (because he finally understands who he needs to be next to)

Why did Mobius risk his life on the first episode?

Why did Loki go to past Mobius for the final advice, not to the present one, not to Sylvie?

Why did Loki ultimately sacrifice his life for the ones he loves?

And why is Mobius left alone, with the door locked, after Loki leaves in the Loom's radiation?

Why would there be so much endearing looks, and smiles at each other, if not for a conscious acting choice?

Why why why why why if it isn't canon?

Nothing is for nothing. Especially in television, where everything counts from the light to the angles and the way the lines are spoken.

We don't need to see two characters kiss to know they are made for one another. In fact, I think implied canon is so much better for now, because it leaves free interpretation for the fans, and nothing to strike on for the haters.

Of course, that doesn't change the fact that the ending is still tragic, although it holds its sweet from bittersweet. But remember: there aren't tragedies without love.

[petday]

I make fandom art I make porn I make stuff that makes me miserable and I make stuff that makes me happy and I follow all the advice online but still nobody likes my art. I know it's good art and im not insecure about my talent level but no matter what I post or where I post it, nobody wants to like or interact with my art at all. I know people see it I know people are scrolling past without acknowledging what I make and it fucking sucks. I don't have friends to share stuff I make with and nobody online cares clearly. What do you do when nobody likes you or what you offer.

Good question. This response involves some of my history. I try to talk about my experiences at a comfortable distance. But please skip to the 'Solutions' part if you're bored.

My thoughts below:

It's painful. I have a lot of memories of high intensity pain due to no one engaging with me, at school and online. 'If I live in the same world as others, but it still feels like I am in a world with just myself, what is the point of trying to make things? Sure, I will feel better about myself as I grow, but I've still got no one to grow with, so I am just talking to myself. Amusing myself is fine, but I want to reach a level of fun above amusement, a level that others seem to reach so naturally.' 

In fact, maybe you are less 'outward' with your emotions, but as a child and teenager and young adult, there was a lot of screaming and crying and thrashing about 'not being granted the ability to make things others will seriously engage with me about.' 

(The pain remained after making a few friends during teenage years. The pain's attitude shifted slightly to accommodate this new life change of gaining friends. Much later, even after I became an artist with a large visible number of 'followers/people interested in something you make', the pain shifted its shape around this life change again. "People make bad assumptions of me because I have a big visible number in my profile and most websites do not give me the ability to hide that number." Summary: If your pain/frustration still remains after you gain a friend or find people who engage you, don't beat yourself up. Emotions don't work in such a way that the outcomes you desire are only guaranteed to make you happy and no other emotions will rise.)

Although I loved to look at art on websites since I was a child, one may assume I enjoyed the community aspect. I did, but only as a spectator for the vast majority of the time, since age restrictions and the harsh attitudes that exist to 'prevent the weak from touching the strong' was present in many of the sites I visited. Similar to how children get frustrated when another child cannot keep up with their play, but the child that is 'left out' can still enjoy watching other kids play from afar. It makes perfect sense to me these feelings will always exist in the world no matter what 'social media' websites people invent.

Anyway, two solution attempts in succession I tried over long-term:

1. My first attempt at a solution was immersing myself in a fantasy world I created in my mind and I held my imagination in high esteem. "I know my imagination takes influence from the things I read and admire, so it's not such a lonely world anyway." Creating episode lists of imaginary cartoon episodes and such, so dedicated to something I hardly told anyone about. It felt good. But my friends had original characters too, and they could describe their personalities and dynamics to others naturally and quickly, likely due to their earlier experiences with 'communicating ideas to others.' I was quiet and envious. Although it was fun to play with the imaginary characters in my head, I decided to take another step. Of course I could not simply go back in time to gain the similar social experiences my friends had. But I could use that desire to 'go back in time' to 'go forward in time' and gain the experience.

2. Engage in others first. Because I spent a long time in my imagination, I felt more secure about myself, so I wanted to extend the feeling of 'caring about my own work' to 'caring about others' work on an equal level.' The internet allows you to assess people before engaging to see if your compatibility might be okay. If someone had posts that resonated with me, I tried to say 'hello, I like what you posted/I like your drawing because [...]' Even if the contact ended there, it was a good practice. Gently communicate with people over time. Especially since I am sure there are people who rarely receive questions about their artworks who would love someone to engage with them as well. Of course do not do this in a 'pity' sense – you have to genuinely find something that 'touches your heart' and if the artist seems to not get much curiosity in regards to their art, you can go ahead and try to express your curiosity to them. Keep posting whatever you like, but if you engage with others, you may find someone engaging with you without even expecting it, and that is fun.

(I think society should practice finding genuine value in things they like even if they see nobody has touched it. Not pity, but removing the "does anyone else like this? If I see no one else liking this, it must be a bad thing to like, so I won't engage" attitude. Some of my favourite artwork has maybe 5 visible 'bookmarks/favorites' on an art-focused website.)

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Beach Episode (Part 19)

Previous | Masterpost | Next

Danny and Jason talked out their issues and dealt with it. Jason didn’t think he’d fuck up again, he’d felt so fucking bad, but Danny didn’t trust that. Which was fair, even if it hurt, he was going to have to prove that he meant it and could hold to it even when he was angry. He needed to get into therapy too, he’d been putting it off because he was scared, and protective of his identity, so much of the shit he’d seen and done was so hard to explain in a civilian situation.

But now that he was on slightly better terms with the JL he could prevail himself of one of their therapists. That ended up being the favour that Danny demanded from them was providing Jason with a therapist, one that wouldn’t be too judgmental of his… ‘methods’. They asked for Wonder Woman’s advice on that, which she was very happy to provide, relieved that Jason was facing up to his bad behaviour and taking steps to make it right. She’d been worried she was going to have to physically knock some sense into him.

The other favour that Danny asked for, not of the JL but from Jason, was not to complain about the family vacation that was being planned between Dick, Tim, Danny, and Alfred. Jason still didn’t love the idea but Danny gave him puppy dog eyes and insisted that it was needed to make him forgive Jason for his slip up. Necessary to make things right with his family and moving on, so he accepted it.

It took a lot of arranging and planning to get the family on vacation. They had to find a time everyone was available, find people they trusted to cover their patrols or cities, and of course agree on a destination. That was harder than you would expect, especially when Bruce got involved and tried to insist it should be in the deep woods somewhere and be a training exercise more than anything.

In the end he was shouted down and it was decided that they were going to go to a beach somewhere warm and sunny. Far enough away from any of their usual haunts that they wouldn’t feel the urge to work as long as there weren’t any natural disasters and Tim was kept off his ipad. Since it was a family vacation Danny invited Ellie and Dan too, though he wasn’t sure that Dan would come. Half of him hoped he wouldn’t because having Dan there was bound to be complicated, but they had decided to be family so Danny was going to put his money where his mouth was. 

Dan had been doing well anyway, he hadn’t missed any check ins and hadn’t caused any chaos in space. So he at least deserved an invite, whether he wanted to come or not. They had a check in two weeks before the trip so Danny brought it up with him then.

“A family vacation huh?” Dan asked, they were ‘sitting’ on a broken satellite which was still orbiting earth through inertia.

“Ya, God knows the Wayne's need it. And honestly so do I. Ellie will be coming too, and you're welcome too if you want to,” Danny said with a little shrug.

“And draw more attention from the GIW onto both of you?” Dan asked skeptically.

“Ya, but they already know Phantom is back and working with the Justice League now. I really don't think they're brave enough to touch us now. And if they try to, with all three of us together with the bats? Frankly I'd like to see them try. Maybe it would give the Justice League the push they need to really give them the smack down.” 

Dan snorted a little at Danny, he still didn't expect that ferocity from his younger self. “Ya I guess so,” he agreed with a crooked little smile.

“But if that was an excuse and you just don't want to come, that's fine. I don't want to push you, I just don't want you to feel left out since we decided we're family now,” Danny explained.

“Nah, I want to come. I want to meet my future brother in law,” Dan said with an absolutely feral smile.

“Oh dear,” Danny said faintly. “That doesn't sound good. Is it too late to uninvite you?” 

“Oh absolutely,” Dan cackled wickedly. “If you're going to be my little brother I should get to vet your boyfriend,” he teased, reaching over to ruffle Danny's hair and laughing when Danny smacked his hand away.

“Fine, you'll be a better judge than some people since I'm assuming we have the same opinions about violence?” He asked, glancing at Dan.

“I think I'm probably even more down for it then you are, but ya. Why?”

“Batman tried to stage an intervention about Jason hitting me. Trying to explain to them that I was totally fine with it and kinda liked it suuucked,” Danny groaned, flopping back dramatically as Dan laughed at him.

“Poor you,” Dan said, entirely unsympathetic. Danny flipped him off. “I'll probably give him shit about it.”

“Just don't scare him off. I really like this guy. If you pull anything I swear I'll spend the rest of our eternity making sure you never get a date!” 

“Sheesh, that's a serious threat kid! As long as he's not a wimp I won't scare him off. If I do scare him off he wasn’t a good fit for you in the first place,” Dan pointed out reasonably.

“Fine, I'll be keeping an eye on you though,” Danny warned.

“Of course you will, I'd expect nothing less after everything I've done,” Dan agreed dryly. “I'm surprised you're letting me be around your new found family at all.”

“Ya, well, you're one of my new found family as well.”

“Shit.”

“If you didn't want to be part of my found family you should have killed me when you had the chance!” 

“IS THAT A FUCKING MEME?!”

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

All the Wayne’s could have asked their respective flying friends to give them a lift to the resort, but it had been decided no kryptonians were invited. They were trying to keep things to their family, though Dick was bringing Kori, that was fine they had been together off and on for years and were well settled together this time. She might as well be an in-law already. So she would be flying Dick in from Bludhaven, and everyone else was going to fly out from Gotham in the Waynes’ private jet. Well, the Waynes and Babs and Steph, who had taken a little more convincing to come, getting past their insistence they weren’t actually family being the trick. Thankfully the fact that the phantom siblings were coming too helped them see it wasn’t only a trip for the Waynes, and with different heroes and allies found to cover protecting Gotham they were bundled onto the private jet as well. 

 Which Danny and Ellie teased Bruce and Tim relentlessly about owning, Jason snickering in the background and egging on the two ghostly siblings in their teasing. They deserved it, no matter how much Bruce tried to defend that it was expected of him to have a private jet and he needed it for business! 

Teasing didn’t stop them from enjoying it though, Ellie chasing Tim around the isles, with Alfred chiding but not actually trying to stop them from having their fun and being kids for once.  Danny spent half the time exploring and stealing any snacks he found, and half the time murmuring in Jason’s ear about how they should steal the jet to join the mile high club. It was sweet torture and Jason did not want it to stop even as he shifted awkwardly and tried desperately to think unsexy thoughts so he wouldn’t get a boner surrounded by his family! Thank fuck Dick wasn’t here, the knowing smirks he’d be shooting the two of them would be too much.

It was a 16 hour flight, and once Ellie and Tim tired themselves out and fell asleep Bruce pulled out a sleep mask and settled in. Danny gave them this, it was much more comfortable to sleep in, and Jason and Danny slept soundly, at least until Ellie got bored and pounced on Danny. They phased out through the wall of the plane to go for a fly, racing the jet and flying loops around it until Ellie got tired and Danny had to help her back into the jet when she started to fall behind. 

Everyone else had started to wake up while they were gone, so by the time they got back it was just in time to have a family breakfast, and talk about what they were going to do once they landed. They had booked the entire top floor of the resort for privacy, which Danny thought was kind of overkill, but these were The Bats, they were incredibly security minded people, so he didn’t argue about it. Danny was mostly excited about swimming, this was a beach vacation after all!

Finally they landed, and grabbed as much of their stuff as they could from the plane before the bellhops could get them, as if all the staff hadn’t already been vetted by Babs. They were only staying for a week so they didn’t have so much they couldn’t reasonably carry it, and Danny suspected at least Tim had some stuff in his bags he would not want anyone else to see. He was going to keep an eye on the younger man to make sure that he hadn’t smuggled any work with him on vacation. 

They piled out of the plane, chattering excitedly about the vacation, Dick coming onto the plane to help Babs on the slightly too steep ramp from the plane. Kori was waiting for them on the tarmac with a warm smile, taking a couple of the heavier bag.

“We already picked out her room on the left side. I suspect Jason and Danny will want to be on the right, and the… single, and younger members of the family should be in the middle so we all have some place,” Kori suggested. 

“Kori!” Dick chided, though he clearly wasn’t actually shocked. Actually those who’d known the two of them for a while knew that was far more delicately put then she might have said it a couple years ago.

“What?” She said, blinking her bright green eyes innocently at Dick. “This is a romantic destination, and we love each other, we are only doing what is surely expected of a loving romantic union. I doubt your father wants to hear-”

“YES thank you Kori you’re right. We’ll make sure you and Dick, and Jason and Danny have your privacy,” Bruce promised.

Before the conversation could continue Ellie shrieked and dropped her bags, taking off running away from the group. It startled everyone, but hackles smoothed immediately when they spotted Dan, strolling across the lot to meet her at a more casual pace. He rolled his eyes but there was a smile on his face as he bent down to scoop Ellie up before she could headbutt him in the gut at full sprint. He was wearing regular clothes, a black shirt and pants with white stripes down the side, and his fiery hair had been gathered into a low ponytail. He still looked obviously inhuman with his grey-green skin and red eyes, but there were all sorts of meta-humans around and he didn’t look like a supervillain at least. 

Ellie scrambled from in his arms to onto his shoulders as he grumbled at her without any real heat behind it. He shrugged his shoulders, making her squeak and hold on tight as he strolled over to the rest of the group.

“I’m glad you could make it,” Danny said, approaching Dan and patting his arm.

“Hey I told you I would,” Dan said ruffling Danny’s hair and ignoring the way the humans around them shifted nervously. Danny was either ignoring it as well or hadn’t noticed the nerves.

“I don’t believe we’ve met!” Kori said cheerfully, holding out her hand to shake. 

“Hey, I’m Dan. I’m these two’s big brother, by technicality,” Dan joked, gesturing to Danny and Ellie with his free hand, shaking her hand and squeezing too hard. He looked impressed when her smile only brightened and she squeezed back just as hard. “And who might you be?”

“I’m Kori, I’m Dick’s partner,” She said brightly. “You seem strong, we should spar some time soon.”

“I’d like that,” Dan agreed with a shark's grin. Grunting and dropping the smile when Danny elbowed him in the side. 

“Behave,” Danny grumbled at him, getting a growl and an eye roll in return, before his gaze landed on Jason. 

“And you must be Danny’s boyfriend huh?” He asked, letting go of Kori’s hand and offering it to Jason.

“Ya, I am. It’s nice to meet you. He warned me about you,” Jason said, standing up straight and shaking Dan’s hand firmly, trying not to wince when he squeezed it far too tightly. 

“I’m sure he did. I warned me about messing with you too,” Dan cackled, letting go of Jason’s hand before it could crack and shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“Right, well now that everyone’s met each other let’s head inside hm?” Bruce interrupted trying to shoo them all towards the door. They were starting to attract attention standing out in the open like this. “We should pick out our rooms and get comfortable.”

“Ellie, how do you feel about sharing a room with Dan?” Danny asked, glancing up at his young clone, still perched on Dan’s broad shoulders. 

“I don’t need a babysitter!” Both Dan, and Ellie said at the same time before looking at each other, startled as Danny laughed.

“You’d both be absolutely terrible babysitters,” He said fondly. He expected them to get into a good deal of chaos together, but he did think that Ellie would keep Dan from killing anyone, or get Danny if things got completely out of control. 

“Fine, we’ll share,” Dan sighed, and Ellie nodded. 

“Thanks guys,” Danny said, smiling at his siblings before grabbing Jason’s hand and tugging him towards the door. “Come on, let’s go find the most extravagant room we can!”

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

There was a bit of a scramble for rooms, not that there weren’t plenty of rooms, but Step, Dick, and Tim were petty and silly and argued over the ‘best’ rooms. And of course once they started Ellie had to get in on the action. Danny and Jason left the younger ones (and Dick) to their squabbling and went to pick out their own room as far away from the rest as they could manage. They found a lovely one with an airy, beachy theme and a window seat looking out onto the ocean.

“It’s beautiful here,” Danny said, sitting down on the padded bench in front of the window and making grabby hands at Jason.

“Is it,” Jason chuckled, going to sit with Danny, who practically dived into Jason’s arms. “I wouldn’t want to live in a place like this, but it is very nice to visit.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, you're a Gothemite and a bat! If it’s not a little close, dark, or gloomy you stand out like a sore thumb,” Danny teased, nuzzling against the underside of Jason’s jaw, who laughed along. “I like our home and our nest though, it’s cozy,” Danny added before Jason could get insecure about it.

“Me too, do you want to unpack first or go exploring?” Jason asked softly.

“As much as I want to go exploring, I think we had better unpack before anyone tries to kick us out of our room by throwing out our bags,” Danny said with a put upon sigh, going nearly boneless against Jason’s chest. 

“You know you’re going to have to get up for us to unpack, right?”

“Noooo!”

-----------

The resort really was beautiful, and since they’d rented an entire floor it wasn’t as crowded as they were sure it usually was. Danny had never been to a place like this and he intended to make the most of it, all of it! The beach, the spa, and the incredibly fucking fancy restaurant and bar where he and Jason could actually drink since the Maldieves actually had a reasonable drinking age! 

Over the course of the week they got couples messages, got so drunk they had to lean on each other to get back to their room, and ordered far too much room service. But undoubtedly the beach was absolutely the main attraction. They spent a lot of time there, to the point Danny got a tan, and Jason was very glad he didn’t burn like Bruce did, who spent most of the second day laying on his stomach in bed with Alfred scolding him about not refreshing his sunscreen after swimming. On the second day Danny remembered he didn’t strictly have to breathe! And Jason spent the rest of the day sitting on the beach while Danny (and Ellie or Dan in turns) disappeared into the water for hours and came back to tell him about everything they saw.

On the third day Jason rented some scuba equipment so he could go down with his boyfriend and see all the wonders he’d been so excited about. At least the ones in shallower waters, he couldn’t follow Danny deeper where the pressure got too much, when Danny realized that he stuck to the shallower areas. By the time they got back to shore Jason was exhausted and very ready for supper, which was a family affair every night of the trip. It was really nice, since Alfred didn’t have to cook he could actually join them and he kept it from being too rowdy. 

They had to push tables together to accommodate the whole family, but the Waynes had more than enough money to get away with it and establish an extra long table for themselves for the entire week of their stay. They tended to eat late, which worked too because there were fewer people for them to disturb with their chatter and chaos, and the eleven of them were usually more than enough for the kitchen to contend with since most of them were big eaters. The dinners were really nice, it didn’t have the baggage of being at the manor, and though they’d met up in smaller groups all of them (minus Kate who had opted out) had never been in the same place. 

It was the perfect opportunity for… something, something that Dick unfortunately beat Jason too on the third night, during dessert when he got up from the table, and got down on one knee in front of Kori. Silence fell over the entire restaurant as Jason bit back a groan and quickly readjusted his expectations to be happy for his brother. 

“Koriand'r, you and I have been together for a long time, and we’ve been through a lot of shit. But never have I not been happy you were there with me for it. You’ve made all of it easier by letting me be by your side, and I hope you’ll let me stick by you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?” 

“Yes!” Kori yelped, holding out her hand and letting him put the ring on her finger before she grabbed his wrist and his collar and hauled him in for a passionate kiss as the family cheered and everyone around clapped politely. “You’ll have to come with me to pick out a ring for you as well My Love,” Kori told him warmly while Dick grinned like an idiot. 

“Congratulations!” Steph cheered, practically leaping over the table to tackle both of them as Bruce ordered a few bottles of the best champagne the resort could offer and everyone else lined up to congratulate them as well. Besides Dan, who was being ignored as he grumbled in the corner about how ostentatious and cliche the whole thing was. 

Hey, maybe if Danny secretly shared some of those thoughts Jason had dodged a bullet not being able to propose on this trip. He’d come up with a new plan, one Danny might even like better.

[lenaboskow]

i'm bored at work so here's an updated list of everything tommy kinard has ever said or done that makes him a bad person who hasn't changed/learned from his mistakes (even if he's not being inherently/explicitly racist anymore) (before you come at me for saying people can change, here's my previous pinned post from 7x05 that explains how he hasn't. i go into it more here about the back half of the season, but all of these points still stand)

season two

chimney begins

the first thing tommy says to/about chimney is "did you forget to tip the delivery driver?". if it wasn't for the fact that they had asian food delivered and chimney is asian, this could've been passed off, but instead they chose to have the first act of racism/general harassment be done by tommy, not the racist captain.

then when they return from a call and see chimney dutifully cleaning, tommy says to chimney: "you're still here?". not inherently racist, but still rude

we get some montages of chimney being left out/harrasef, and tommy is always at the forefront. it culminates in the locker room scene where tommy says "i don't think about you enough to hate you", which again isn't inherently racist but it is rude.

at the end, the only way chimney manages to earn a semblance of respect from tommy is by saving his life, which is fucked up. you shouldn't have to save someone's life to he treated with dignity. but fine, maybe tommy learned his lesson, right?

wrong

hen begins

at the beginning, tommy, chimney, gerrard, and a few others are standing up in the loft while hen walks in. gerrard says a few racist/sexist words, and chim stands up for her. tommy just stands there, not even looking like he might want to say something. not saying something when it happens is almost as bad as doing, and obviously chimney, who'd been there a shorter time, was brave enough to stand up for her.

then tommy, during a meal, tommy says about hen: "new york bitchiness is a compliment?". there's no non sexist explanation for this comment

actually that entire meal, he ignores chimney's attempts move the conversation away, which says a lot

again, general enabling of the racism and sexism

during hen's "see me" speech, tommy looks pissed off to be there, and then proceeds to look annoyed when he apologizes to her at the end of the episode (if you can even call it that)

post begins episodes

now, we don't know a whole lot about how hen and chimney interacted with tommy after the events of their begins episodes, but we do know they weren't close enough to keep in touch after. chimney loses touch for two years immediately after he leaves, and by season seven hen forgot that tommy worked at harbor. i don't know about you, but that doesn't seem like behavior for people who worked closely for ten years.

season seven

7x04

this episode was from buck's pov, so it's actually the time where tommy is the most tolerable. that doesn't mean he doesn't have his moments, though:

calling buck "kid" and "evan" is a weird way to introduce a love interest. tommy calling him "kid" shows that tommy is aware of the age difference, which as i explain here is at least the same as buck and abby's (and here why that screenshot of tim saying he's 40 is irrelevant). also, tommy calls buck "evan" with no on screen explanation, and we know that lou was explicitly told tommy isn't "allowed" to call him buck. you know the only other characters who aren't allowed to call him buck? his parents. that's all I'll say.

we don't really see much of tommy again until the basketball scene, and then it's focused on buck and eddie anyways, so the next time we see him and buck really interact is the loft scene (which is telling about who buck was trying to get the attention of, but that's a different conversation). in this scene, tommy makes a condescending remark about how "we weren't trying to make you feel left out" and "eddie can have more than one friend", which... again, brings us back to the age difference because it sounds like (in context) that tommy is reprimanding a child. having them kiss right after that was definitely an interesting choice (in terms of their relationship)

7x05

oh the date. i have so many feelings about this. we know that tommy knows buck isn't out, because buck told maddie they purposely picked an out of the way spot, and despite the face tommy made at the comment, he didn't seem surprised when buck told him it was his "first date with a dude" (it seemed more like a "i already know this, you don't have to repeat it" face). because of this, the way tommy acted when eddie showed up and freaked buck out has no excuse. the closet comment? even if tommy didn't know buck wasn't out and decided he didn't want to date someone who wasn't out, he shouldn't have made that comment knowing it could out buck to his best friend, who he clearly wasn't ready to tell. lucky for buck, eddie's an idiot (affectionate) with a one track mind (buck) and didn't register the comment.

then we have tommy leaving buck at the curb. leaving the date isn't the problem, it's the fact that he didn't tell buck until he got in the uber, which obviously upset buck (though he was admittedly more upset over lying to eddie). the rest of the episode is spent on buck coming out to eddie, and we don't see tommy again until buck is apologizing for the date, which... why should buck have to apologize for not being ready to come out? buck did nothing wrong on the date. if you just figured out you were queer and hadn't had the chance to tell your best friend before they accidentally crashed your date, you'd react the same way, don't try to tell me otherwise. it was tommy who should've apologized, plain and simple.

7x06

the bachelor party. tommy's excuse for not dressing up made no sense to me... he was obviously going to have to change anyways, so why not put in a little effort for your date? i see people saying that only eddie put effort in, but henren was dressed too, just more subtly. tommy chose not to dress up, and made a half hearted excuse of "they had henleys in the 80s" (which you would know, wouldn't you, 70s baby?)

then we have tommy leaving, which fair he's on call, and we don't see him again until the hospital kiss. this is the only time we see tommy look remotely interested in buck the entire episode (every other time he has an rbf face, even when they're hugging).

7x09

we only see tommy during the medal ceremony, and he still manages to say something to piss me off. "enjoy it while it lasts" because he can't indulge his boyfriend for two seconds. it's becoming a pattern, i'm afraid

7x10

the date scene was a weird way to end their s7 relationship. buck was opening up about his trauma, tried to find middle ground by saying "so we both have daddy issues" (nothing in the context made it seem sexual, in fact i didn't realize until tommy made the joke, so it's possible buck didn't either) and then tommy says "i don't" despite admitting that he did only a few seconds before. buck says with a slightly resigned (barely there, but still there) tone, "but you think i do" and tommy responds with "god i hope so". any other context and it would've been fine, but buck had just been talking ahout how his father figure literally died and came back to life. there's a post somewhere (pretty sure it was an ask someone sent me actually, if i can find it i'll link)that talks about how buck has a habit of going along with his love interests to avoid causing waves, and how that's exactly what buck was doing in 7x10, and it makes perfect sense. if buck had a problem with it, he wouldn't immediately say. he'd sit on it for weeks before even considering bringing it up (like natalia and death, and how he avoided taylor in s5). even if he wasn't uncomfortable, it doesn't take away from the fact that the timing was weird and buck wasn't in a good headspace to respond properly.

in conclusion

tommy is repeatedly a bad person. just because he hasn't said anything racist or sexist since season two, it doesn't negate this. you'll notice that almost all of his scenes are here, if not all. the writers have chosen to have him repeatedly look bad and like someone who only cares about himself (with the way he constantly tries to defend his actions by blaming gerrard, and how he only cares about his feelings about being out), but the bt stans are too excited at the prospect of two white men kissing (or just two men and they don't care who, thus dumping eddie, it depends on the bt) that they choose to look past it and hate on ryan/eddie instead.

these last three months in the fandom have felt so different compared to the rest. the fandom i knew pre s7 would never act this way. is it because lou is a nepo baby? i know it's not because of his looks. but either way, i'm disappointed, and hope s8 treats us (fans who actually care about the characters and don't actively want less for them) better

(if i missed anything, let me know and i'll edit the post to add it)

[ratboyvince]

The Magnus Protocol - Glitch theory

In light of the current theory/assumption that in The Magnus Protocol, the audio glitches when the characters lie, I’ve been re listening!! And I’m going to be using this post and others to explore what this means for our beloved characters

The glitches aren’t on the transcript, sometimes there will be a direction like (uncertain) or (unconvincing), but thats the best i can do you for, otherwise you will have to take my word

First though, quick clarifications: what exactly is a lie in this context? - this is fairly obvious but i am including it for the avoidance of any doubt what i have gathered is that, in this theory we are assuming a lie is a character saying something they KNOW is not true in attempt to wilfully deceive someone

It is NOT:

A joke, or sarcasm

Believing something but being wrong

Finally, a lot of the lies i have so far are ones that are known to known to be untrue, what i will do is have a list of the blatant lies SO FAR to make my point, to work as support for the theory on this post then leave out any following ones to avoid making it excessively long.

The rest of them will be under the cut and more on a thread, sorted by episode. If i miss any, feel free to say!!

BLATANT LIES (theory support)

1.

Teddy: Colin was just saying how much of a BLAST he’s having (GLITCH) isn’t that right?

Lena: oh really.

Colin: Aye, sure (GLITCH)

Teddy: And how he’d love to take the after party to the Pub (GLITCH)

2.

Gwen: Sam? You okay?

Sam: um. Yeah. (GLITCH)

3.

Sam: cinnamon swirl. Please. (GLITCH)

4.

Gwen: Wait. Did you get me a coffee?

Sam: yeah. (GLITCH)

5.

Celia: Sorry, sorry, there was an emergency at home (GLITCH)

EPISODES 1-11 (where applicable) UNDER THE CUT

Episode 1

Teddy: Nahh, we’ll stay in touch, right?

Alice: Course…(GLITCH)

Alice either did not intend to keep in touch with Teddy, or genuinely just does not believe they will.

* saying she’ll miss him was NOT a lie, so it’s probably the latter

Episode 3

Sam: right, right i get it. Consider me *scared straight* (GLITCH)

He wasn’t taking Alice seriously, underestimating how serious it actually was (maybe even as light payback for her not taking him seriously)

Episode 5

Lena: I am certain that if he finds his current assignment unmanageable he can request assistance (GLITCH) or resign, of course…

She knows what the deal is with Central IT (whatever “the deal” may be), and just refuses to help. Maybe even sets up a little hostility between Lena and Colin?

Episode 7

Alice: listen, if you need to step out for some air-

Celia: no, I’m fine, really (GLITCH)

Celia was infact, not fine, probably because she recognised Chester’s voice as Jon “The Archivist” Sims himself and she’s freaked out

Episode 8

Gertrude: well I’m…sorry, but I don’t think gerry can help you. (GLITCH)

—

Gerry: -And then i left

Sam: and that’s all?

Gerry: Yeah I’m afraid so! (GLITCH)

Gertrude and Gerry know more than they’re letting on, and intentionally not sharing.

*Gerry not remembering most of it being true, means that while he’s probably leaving something out, there’s more he genuinely is lost on

Sam: I…may have given you a quick google

Celia: then…yeah. I’m doing a favour for Georgie. (GLITCH)

She Is Not Doing A Favour For Georgie - the research (teleportation, time travel, different universes) is more personal!

Episode 11

Sam: you keep glancing at the door

Alice: ah. It’s nothing (GLITCH)

—

Alice: it’ll be nothing! I’m just jumpy (GLITCH)

Alice is dismissing her anxiety following the trip to the institute.

Alice: “What have I told you about thinking?“

Sam: “Don’t.”

Alice: “That’s right.” (GLITCH)

Probably meaning that Alice is starting to doubt her own ideas, but is just pushing that uncertainty away because that’s what she does and she’s still more comfortable in ignorance, even if she doesn’t think it’s exactly RIGHT to ignore.

[spenglernot]

STORIES TELLING: THE BREATHTAKING EFFICIENCY OF WRITING IN OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH

One of the things I most admire about Our Flag Means Death is the efficiency of the writing. So much happens so fast, but nothing is dissonant or feels like it comes out from left field. I think part of the reason it works so well is that the subtext does a lot of heavy lifting; setting the foundation for what comes next. There is always more than one thing being conveyed. It isn’t simply storytelling, it’s stories telling.

Case in point: Ed's stories about underwater beasties...

S1 E6, The Art of Fuckery - Ed telling the crew a story about the Kraken. S2 E5, The Curse of the Seafaring Life - Ed telling Stede a story about fishing.

S1 E6 Young Ed sees the kraken (himself). It’s foreboding, powerful and uncontrollable.

S2 E5 Ed clearly delineates between himself and the beast (rage, violence, protection). He is the man (an adult, above the water), conscious and in control. The beast is beneath the sea (subconscious).

S1 E6 Ed describes the kraken as hideous, rising out of the water (of its own volition) while young Ed stands nearby, powerless.

S2 E5 Ed describes pulling to bring the beast out of the water. This is a conscious act, over which he has control.

S1 E6 Ed describes the kraken attacking, before Ed even knew it had done so.

S2 E5 Ed describes triumphantly pulling the beast from the water.

S1 E6 Ed describes his warning about the kraken coming too late, and the kraken takes its victim. The kraken is in control.

S2 E5 Ed shows Stede the beast he subdued: a small fish.

Why is this so damn heartbreaking and funny and touching?

We have two stories that are highly entertaining and work within the context of the episodes to move the narrative forward. But they also say a whole lot about how Ed sees himself at each moment in time.

In season 1, the beast is safely underwater, but it can always rise, with overwhelming strength and power, to wreak havoc and keep Ed safe. It’s not something Ed is fully in control of, and it can (and later does) do tremendous damage.

In season 2, episode 5, the beast is safely underwater. Ed has to put effort into keeping the beast on the line and reeling it in, but he is in control of it.

And, while the small fish silhouetted triumphantly against the moonlight is beautifully sweet and funny, what made me crumple on the floor is what it says about how Ed is beginning to manage the kraken (himself) now.

The kraken is still there, under the water, and maybe Ed isn’t ready to control it in its full form, but he’s working on it. He wrangled a small sea (subconscious) beast and is celebrating his success in that.

And then Stede says this:

(Sob. You're such a good boyfriend right now, Stede!)

Yeah, Ed. That is really beautiful. Good on you, mate. Keep going.

This post was written before OFMD season 2 fully airs. No idea what’s going to happen in episodes 6, 7, and 8 (and I’ve generally fled social media to avoid spoilers). I’ll be back, looking at everyone’s fascinating posts after the finale airs.

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

Mine Nightmare | Part One: Birth - Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal

Summary: Moments, between everything else. Agatha, between everything else. And now, maybe, three of them. Together. Family. 

Word Count: ~2,800

Contains: canon divergence, angst, pregnancy, sad fluff (if that's a thing??), and a lot of soft feelings about Rio

A/N: I sat down to attempt to process episode nine, and this came out instead. Enjoy xx

Read on Ao3

Rio carded careful fingers through Agatha’s hair, brushing stray pieces from her forehead when they fell. 

She was laying with her head in Rio’s lap, curled on her side on the mossy forest floor. Fingers twined together. Safe. 

Rio had been careful to lay the moss down for her. Any bit of padding to make it easier at this stage. 

A soft gasp, and then Agatha was shifting, guiding Rio’s hand over her stomach and pressing her palm flat into skin. A tiny foot pressed against her, no bigger than the heel of her hand, and she pulled her fingers away reflexively. But Agatha was right there, chuckling softly as she smoothed Rio’s hand back down, held her steady against the tiny bumping thing. 

“You can’t hurt him,” she murmured, fingers drifting softly over the back of Rio’s hand. Back and forth, back and forth. 

Rio let her eyes flutter shut, leaning forward and burying her nose in Agatha’s hair. Just for a second. Just for this one moment. 

It was safe, of course. Agatha was the barrier between her and all things. And Agatha was protecting her unborn child from Rio even now, her skin a shield against Death’s touch. Rio didn’t know why she could touch Agatha without any repercussions. She only remembered that first time— Agatha grabbing desperately for her hand through the mess of tears, barely a woman, splitting open at the seams as she sobbed because she hadn’t meant to. She hadn’t meant any of it. Again. Rio had ripped her hand away lightning fast, watching Agatha’s face in horror and waiting for the skin to pale and crack and dissolve away. But it hadn’t. Her cheeks were flushed red, tears streaking and marring the perfect blue of her eyes. Her lips had been swollen, sticky with tears, chin wobbling. And then, she had reached for Rio again. 

Rio could still smell the fern and wet dirt, the stench of death that hung in the air. She could still hear the tiniest hitch of breath as Agatha left her hand there, shaking, suspended. The way she stiffened as Rio stepped towards her, like she wanted to run but wouldn’t. And the feel of her— so warm. So, so soft. 

Fingers had skated hesitantly along skin, and Rio hadn’t been able to tell if it was Agatha that was trembling or if it was her. But she watched ice blue eyes as she touched, waiting, waiting, waiting. When nothing happened, she let herself look down. Agatha’s fingers were twitching under her touch, and Rio reached up with her other hand to steady her. Held her still in her grip as her thumbs traced the lines of her palm. She took a shaking breath, shifting them up to the vulnerable skin on the inside of her wrist. Agatha had let out the most delicious sound, tipping her head back, and Rio glanced up at her for the briefest moment — just to make sure — before pressing her thumb against her pulse point. Thrumming, into her skin. Vibrating into her very soul. Life, in her hands. Beating on. 

“You’re a miracle,” Rio had breathed, almost without thinking. Except she meant it. When Agatha pulled away and muttered something about her mother, Rio had grabbed her by the shoulders and pressed their foreheads together, instantly and dangerously comfortable touching her. She had slid her hands up Agatha’s neck slowly, cupping her face and forcing her eyes up. “You are a miracle, Agatha.” 

And now, here she was. Proving Rio right again. 

Another small kick, and Agatha winced against a chuckle, shifting slightly. “I think he likes you.” 

She turned her head to look up at Rio, and the smile tugging at the corner of her lips was the only thing that stopped the words from tumbling from Rio’s mouth on instinct. 

He shouldn’t. 

Instead, she managed her own smile, borderline a smirk, and pushed a curl from Agatha’s face. “How do you know it’s a boy, hm? There’s every chance there’s a little girl in there, just as powerful as you.” 

“She wishes,” Agatha scoffed, rolling her eyes playfully. But then she was wincing again, and Rio helped the best she could as she rolled fully onto her back. Hands over her stomach, grown infinitely larger than when Rio had seen her last, tugging at Rio’s fingers and playing with them mindlessly. 

These moments — so, so rare — were what Rio lived for. Or rather, what made her life worth living. She hadn’t thought much about her actual life aside from her work and responsibilities. Not until she had met Agatha. Because she hadn’t known much about life until she had met Agatha. Until she had heard Agatha’s laugh for the first time. Until Agatha had cooked her a meal. Until Agatha had dragged her through a small little village, cackling and dodging people and practically skipping as they headed for the field just over the hill. 

Moments, between everything else. Agatha, between everything else. And now, maybe, three of them. Together. 

Family. 

“I’m just…” Agatha murmured, eyes staring past Rio and up into the canopy of trees. Her fingers twitched over Rio’s palm. 

“Just what, my love?” 

A long, steadying breath. “I’m terrified. Of having to do all of it alone.” 

But of course, all good things had to come to an end. 

Rio swallowed hard, rejection burning up her throat. It was a relatively new sensation, carefully crafted by Agatha’s existence. “And what if you didn’t have to do it alone...?” 

Agatha visibly startled beneath her, shifting her gaze back to Rio’s face. Realization seemed to strike in the same moment. “No, no— not— I only meant…” She huffed out a breath. After all of these years, Rio still found it too endearing that she was seemingly the only person who could fluster her. “I meant the hard part.” 

The hard part. Creation. Birth. Rio could do it with the snap of her fingers. 

“It won’t be as difficult as you think,” Rio said softly. As if to prove her point, she grabbed Agatha’s hand, conjuring a carnation between her fingers and placing it in Agatha’s palm. 

The smile she got in reward was beaming. 

“Now, you tell him to come out that easily.” 

“Her,” Rio corrected, pulling the flower from Agatha’s hand and balancing it atop her stomach. “And she knows not to give you any trouble, else I’m coming for her.” 

Her wide smirk and raised brow made Agatha toss her head back in a full laugh, and then, before Rio knew what was happening, a warm kiss was pressed to her cheek. She flushed, despite herself. 

They sat in silence for a long moment, Agatha’s fingers tracing the petals of the flower and Rio’s hand smoothing over stretch marks just blossoming. Back and forth, back and forth. 

“You know,” Rio said softly, loathe to break the silence, “you’ll only have to do the first bit alone.” 

Agatha nodded, shifting closer. “I know. I just wish you could be there. He’s yours, too.” 

“I’ll be there for the rest of it,” Rio murmured, pressing a kiss to Agatha’s forehead. “And she will be loved more than any child could dream. And safe. I promise.” 

—————— ⋆˖⁺‧ ☾ ‧⁺˖⋆ ——————

Rio skimmed her hand over the old woman’s cheek, ice and stone beneath her touch. And then, she woke. 

“Come,” Rio said gently, reaching for her hand. “It’s time to go.” 

The woman’s brow furrowed, then immediately rose. “No. No— My grandchildren, my daughter… I need more time.” 

“You’ve had plenty,” Rio said, reaching further. “Come.” 

The woman walked slowly, and Rio walked with her. Through the trees, through the woods. Through the memories that flowed like a gentle breeze around them. She had lived a full life. Rio smiled. 

And then, a tug. 

Rio ignored it. She wasn’t finished with this one yet. But before she had taken two more steps, it tugged again, harder this time. Rio stuttered, and the old woman stopped beside her. 

“No,” Rio said softly, shaking her head. “You go ahead. Keep walking. I have something to attend to.” 

She seemed to understand, wise and worldly after all of those years. Most of the older women were. There was something about aging that seemed to breed thoughts of death. Rio had never understood it— the balance was even. She walked just as many children across as she did adults. 

Rio pulled out her knife, digging hard into the folds of spacetime and dragging down. She held the edge of the curtain open for the woman, prompting her through. “Keep walking. Your mother is waiting for you at the end.” 

Once the woman had disappeared, she stitched the seam shut again. 

The tug was burning now, and she walked quickly as she followed it. A few miles down the path, she heard it. 

A woman’s cries. 

They grew louder as she drew nearer, more and more frequent and rising in pitch. She was closing in through the thick of trees when the woman gasped. 

Rio stopped. 

A groan, a huffed breath. An anguished cry. 

There was the proof that Rio had a heart— the way it seized in her chest, ice splintering through her veins and feet rooted to the ground. A hot tear dropped onto her cheek, and Rio startled, swiping it away. She stared down at her fingers, glistening in the sunlight streaming through the trees. 

Moments, between the living. Moments, between the dead. Moments with Agatha, safe. Moments with— 

Another cry, this one more visceral than the last. It came through gritted teeth. Rio didn’t even need to see her to know. She had sounded the exact same so many years ago, when a witch hunter had managed to strike her in the side, just under her ribs. Rio had methodically stitched her up then, careful not to touch the wound, just in case. Agatha had laughed, straightening and rolling her neck out as Rio hauled the soul up by his collar and shoved him through the door. Agatha had walked no more than twenty feet before she started panting, and Rio had picked her up easily and carried her back to their camp. Agatha kept their fingers twined together the entire night. 

“Please,” Agatha ground out, voice drifting through the still woods. “You’re okay, just— please.” 

Rio closed her eyes, licking her lips slowly as she listened to Agatha panting, all that way away. She reached for the tug, for the invisible string pulling her to someone else’s fate. As long as it wasn’t Agatha. As long as it wasn’t Agatha. 

The child’s cries were distorted, muffled and swimming, just as everyone’s last words were. They urged her forward, and she found herself swaying up on her toes before she could stop it. She snapped her eyes open, forcing her heels back down into dirt. 

No. 

No. 

It was the one thing she couldn’t do. Because it wasn’t Agatha, not really. Except he was. In every way that mattered, he was. 

He.  

She could feel it now, the life waning inside of Agatha. The stretch and pull as it tried to fight the string winding tighter between them. He was definitely male. Agatha had been right. 

The child’s cries grew louder, searing in Rio’s mind. Rattling in her teeth, making acid pool in her mouth. She dug her heels harder into the soil beneath her, and the earth tilted on its axis. The trees swayed sideways, creaking against the force of gravity. The force of her. The balance of life was fighting against her. 

No. 

She was fighting against it. 

A ringing started in her ears, morphing the child’s cries to shrieks of agony, demonic screeching as she felt reality start to shake around her. 

She had to do it. If she kept fighting… it felt as if the world was coming apart at the seams. Natural order had to be maintained. 

There was a certain curiosity that bloomed, under all of the pain and gripping into the present, because she had never actually done this before. It was the reason for her creation, it was the reason for her existence. She had never actually taken the time to question what would happen if she refused. 

People had begged her. Of course they had. But she had never once hesitated. 

Limbs snapped off of a tree, hitting the ground and shaking it with the force of the gods that came before her. A flock of birds, scattered. Agatha’s cries blending with the shrieking of the crows. 

Rio set her jaw and forced herself to step closer. One foot, another. With each step, the world righted and reality settled. So she kept stepping, again and again, until she reached the small clearing at the edge of a lake. She could see Agatha now, sweaty and matted, hair sticking to her face. She was cradling her stomach, cradling the baby, legs spread wide as she crouched against a tree. 

“Please,” she panted, sniffing against sobs. “Please…” 

One last breath. For Rio. For him. She would gift him one more. A split second decision, and she formed an orchid in her hand. Something for Agatha. A life for a life. 

She rounded the tree with her heart pounding somewhere in her throat, legs trembling as she forced herself forward. Agatha sensed her before she came into view, head whipping up and eyes wide. She looked around frantically, and Rio took the final step out into the clearing. Eyes met. The earth tilted again. 

It was the first time that Agatha had ever looked at her in fear. 

“No,” she choked out, hands gripped protectively across her stomach. She licked her lips, shaking her head. “No.“ 

“Agatha,” Rio said softly, taking another step closer. Fidgeting with the flower. 

“I said no!” Agatha shouted, and Rio actually faltered. 

“It has to be done,” she tried, bracing herself against the yanking deep in her stomach. He was waiting for her. He was ready. 

Agatha shook her head again, more violently. “It doesn’t. Don’t do this. Please.” 

“I have to—“ 

“Please! Let him live. My love—“ Her voice broke on the last word, sobs wracking through her. “Don’t do this. Please… I need him. I need…” 

Rio’s fingers twitched around the orchid, cold petals a weak replacement for skin. The last time Agatha had cried like this, Rio had felt a heartbeat for the first time. The last time Agatha had cried like this… she had given Rio everything. 

She felt the fabric of fate shifting around her before she even knew what she was doing. The flower fell from her fingers. Agatha gasped, clutching at her stomach. 

“I can give you time,” Rio said, as gently as she could. Unwinding that thread. Unwinding. “Time, Agatha. But eventually… I will have to come back for him.” 

Agatha’s eyes snapped up to hers, the word hanging between them. Him. Something like hope flickered over her features, and Rio couldn’t bear to watch it shatter. So she turned away. 

“How much time?” 

The question was desperate— a plea from a mother for her unborn child. When Rio turned back, Agatha had her eyes squeezed shut. 

She couldn’t answer it. She didn’t even fully know. He would tell her when he was ready. Until then… maybe she could grant Agatha a fraction of what she had gifted her. 

When Agatha opened her eyes again, Rio was lost in the thick of the woods, watching carefully between the leaves as Agatha created life right before her eyes. Her miracle, creating another miracle. 

“…no spell or incantation. You… you were made from scratch.” 

Rio smiled, despite everything, another hot tear falling. She didn’t catch it that time. She simply watched— watched Agatha cradle her child in her arms. Watched her lean down and press their foreheads together. Watched the way his little feet kicked against her palm. 

She felt the ghost of reverberations in her own palm. A happy memory. 

Maybe, if she was lucky, she would get to know him one day. Maybe, she would get to experience moments of his life firsthand, instead of through the sea of memories as she walked him safely to the other side. Maybe, in some way, they could actually be a fraction of a family. 

The tug, again. String pulled taut. Rio grasped at it, yanking it free from herself with a shocked cry. She had been expecting pain, tearing at fate like that. But there was only relief. A stay of execution, filling her lungs like the first breath after drowning. 

She watched the baby, curled together with his mother in the peaceful quiet of the woods, winding his life force between careful fingers. Brushing her thumb against that string in time with the rise and fall of his chest. Back and forth, back and forth. Holding him, the only way she would ever be able to. 

Maybe, one day, Agatha would forgive her. 

“My perfect boy,” Agatha murmured, voice shaking with tears. “What shall we call you, hm?” 

The baby cooed. Agatha smiled. 

The string slipped through Rio’s fingers. 

“I’ll be there for the rest of it, and he will be loved more than any child could dream. And safe. I promise.” 

[rey-jake-therapist]

Ok, here am I again posting another TROP/Haladriel meta... Feel free to mute me if you can't take it anymore, these are gonna be two long weeks as there are still two episodes left...

We're having a lot of discussions about what we'll get to see in Episode 8 (maybe even a bit in episode 7??), and it's really great and exciting to speculate about what will happen when our two love birds mortal enemies finally meet again.

It seems to be the general consensus that Sauron will try again to convince her to be his queen. Now I may be the dissonant voice, but I personnally don't think it will be that straightforward.

Charlie said several times that Sauron was pissed that Galadriel rejected him, but that it wasn't the end of the world, for him. Meaning: he totally believes he can make it without her.

To the Nerdist, he said :

"Speaking of your old screenmate, Sauron asked Galadriel to be his queenOpens in a new tab at the end of season one of The Rings of Power. How much, if at all, does he still want that by this point? And does he think it’s a possibility? Vickers: I think he probably does think it’s still a possibility because he has this hubris and this self-love. He thinks he’s really cool, and he thinks, “Well, she rejected me once, but next time I come back for her, she won’t reject me again because I’ll be so powerful she won’t be able to.” But I don’t think he necessarily wants that. I think his initial proposal to her was to join him, and they could be king and queen of Middle-earth, but really, he would’ve been king, and she would’ve been his righthand woman. Any kind of dreams he has involve her being number two and him being number one."

(I would love to see him try to submit Galadriel to his will, btw. I mean, c'mon man)

To Collider, he said,

"His getting rejected definitely leaves him with this sour taste in his mouth, and he goes away thinking, “I can make this right.” Whatever that means to him. That's one of his throughlines in terms of his motivation or goals for this second season is how much he's driven and how much this relationship gives him a sense of purpose."

And to Schön:

That connection will endure as long as the show endures because although they might not be together in proximity when we pick it up, he’s pissed off that she has turned his pitch down [laughter]. That drives him to think, I can make her join me, or I’ll make her pay for this.

Here, there's also an interview he gave for Total Films, where he reveals that there's a "huge amount of urgency in each of them trying to obtain what they want in that situation": https://x.com/totalfilm/status/1830244276539654595

I'm sure I've read an interview where Charlie said that Sauron would probably want to taunt Galadriel with what they could have done together had she said yes. Edit : found it! Interview for TV Insider.

Second to his lust for more rings is Sauron’s desire to get the Elven rings back. “While he didn’t directly touch them, which is a big thing this season, [Galadriel] has this ring that he put all this effort into, and he wants that back,” Vickers admits. Sauron “covets” these jewels, “and particularly hers,” he explains, “because he knows what they represented when he was making them.” Sauron feels “taunted” and “pissed off” that Galadriel rejected him. That makes getting her ring back personal, but Vickers insists that “he’s past ruling with her.” That won’t stop him from showing her “what could have been, what you could have had,” Vickers teases.

Of course Charlie can't give much away. But so far, it matches with what we saw in season 2 : he's in Eregion, forging his rings of power with Celebrimbor, he's visibly happy (just kidding, the man looks exhausted and depressed), but sometimes he can't help but think of Galadriel.

I love how the experience is completely different for him, from it is for Galadriel: while she had a bittersweet flashback of her and Halbrand in the Southlands, he gets lost in the contemplation of Mirdania's hair because she reminds her of Galadriel, and manifests images in his mind palace that also remind him of her (there are several posts about all this on Tumblr, including one of mine... I won't enter into the details again).

It would be very OOC of Sauron to display an outright nostalgia for the time he spent with Galadriel as Halbrand, imho, even if it was only for the audience to see. He's not supposed to be sad and nostalgic, but pissed at her for rejecting him, and determined to move on and to obtain what he wants without her in the picture. He's probably annoyed af to see his thoughts shifting towards Galadriel while he's in the middle of something very important. He's in his "the fuck with her" phase of the breakup, which pretty much matches what Charlie said. In his hubris, he believes that once he has his rings, he will be so powerful that Galadriel will have no other choice than joining him. She hurt his pride, so now he wants to relish the sight of her submission to him.

Regarding the mind palace scene, precisely the one where the guy tells the Galadriel look alike he wrote a poem : it probably remained unnoticed by most viewers, but I think it's very significant that this scene arrived at THIS moment. Let me explain:

To convince Celebrimbor, Sauron first assures him that when the story of this age is written, the Silmarils will be "no more than a whisper". Of course it's meant to motivate Celebrimbor who always wanted to create something that would be remembered, like the Silmarils. But it can be interpreted as a personal goal for Sauron as well :

1) Morgoth found the Silmarils so beautiful that for weeks, "he could do nothing but stare into their depth".

2) Fëanor admired Galadriel's hair so much it gave him the idea of imprisoning and blending the light of the Trees, and three times requested a tress of hers (she always said 'no').

The two people he loved/admired but hurt him the most are connected to the Silmarils in a way, so he could see the creation of something "more precious" as a personal challenge. After he promises Celebrimbor that his rings of power will be "deemed the most precious creations in all Middle-Earth", and Celebrimbor returns to his workshop, his attention is caught by the sight of a couple. The man (whose face remains unseen, because he's a just a self-insert) tells the Galadriel look alike :

"I've written a poem, but I fear your beauty still overshadows anything I could possibly write."

Of course we joked about Sauron's pathetic attempt at poetry (it's terrible lol), but imho there was a deeper meaning to this scene. I think it was his subconscious manifesting what he already knows deep inside of him : that without Galadriel's light, there will ALWAYS be something missing. That what he told Celebrimbor was a lie, no matter how much Sauron wants it to be the truth. The Rings of power are his poem, but Galadriel's beauty/light will always overshadow it.

Hence why it's pretty much granted that he will try to "get Galadriel back". He'll show her how powerful he is now that he has the Nine rings, and his proposal will probably not be as charming as it was the first time. I think we should prepare ourselves to a lot of gaslighting and threatening from his part (he's still pissed off, guys). He'll surely tell her that Eregion is burning because she refused him, that kind of thing. He will definitely use her memories of Halbrand (it's pretty much confirmed by the presence of Halbrand's theme within The Temptation music, and maybe Galadriel's vision of Halbrand enters that scheme too), but will it be to show her what they could have had if she had said yes the first time, or what they could still be? It remains to be seen.

We probably shouldn't forget that in his mind, it happens like this: "she joins me, or I'm making pay for it".... It should be pretty intense.

Then we've got what Charlotte Brändström revealed about Sauron (bless her heart) :

"I think Sauron even really loves Galadriel and you will see that at the very end”

There are already several threads discussing how Sauron will show his love for Galadriel... Will he spare her? Save her in one way or another? Heal her because she's hurt? Prove her in some way that what he said he felt as Halbrand was real? Something entirely different? Anyway, it will be something that can't be confused with manipulation.

There, I said my piece. Why isn't it next Thursday yet?

[lollytea]

Therapy

(Wrote this in five hours without stopping. Nothing fancy. Maybe sloppy and unpolished. Bon appetite???)

"Leave it alone, Darius," Hunter snarled, slamming down his chisel and wooden shape on the desk as he whirled around to face him.

"I'm doing a load anyway!" Retorted Darius, one hand gripping the laundry basket against the hip and the other holding a graphic tee with the solar system printed on it. "You know it bothers me to walk in here and see dirty clothes tossed all over the floor."

"I can do my own laundry!"

Hunter internally winced at his tone the second it burst out of him.

He sounded like the cranky, whiny child that he had once been, always gnashing nonvenomous teeth in an effort to be taken seriously.

Being treated as a child was one of his most explosive buttons. And the worst part was that if pushed, he always acted up in a way that proved them right.

He reeled himself in, filling his lungs to steady his wrung nerves before turning back to his work.

There was a pause.

"I know you are," said Darius, his voice softer than it had been a moment prior. "But considering you've been letting it pile up for the last few days, I figure I'd lend you a hand."

"I don't need a hand." Hunter took furious chunks out of his hunk of wood. "I'm gonna do it myself. I'm just....busy. Right now."

Hunter was "busy" a lot lately, leaving things such as laundry overlooked, as he focused on one obsession after another. Darius referred to his bouts of productivity as "manic episodes."

It was preferable to the other half of the time when he went borderline unresponsive. Those days weren't fun.

He heard a fwump, which was presumably the sound of Darius dropping the shirt back on the floor.

"Ocellena called," He said.

Hunter's rough attempts at whittling went still. "That's...the therapist's name, right?"

"Yes. Your first session is scheduled for the day after tomorrow. 3pm."

"Right. Okay." Hunter intoned. "Thanks."

When he offered nothing else, Darius pushed a bit.

"I know you're scared."

Hunter wanted to hotly declare that he wasn't. But he felt like the blood of a lie would seep through his words. He said nothing.

"But you haven't been doing well, Hunter."

He wanted to argue that he was actually doing awesome. But Darius was a lot better at arguing than he was, so he'd probably just end up looking stupid.

"And I promise that this is a step in the right direction."

"I said I was sorry," Hunter found himself uttering in a quiet, scratchy voice.

There he was again, that whiny difficult child inside of him. And in that moment, he had touched Hunter's throat, letting out one final plea to be forgiven.

He didn't know what he expected to happen.

Maybe deep down, he desperately wanted Darius to soften up and say to him, "Oh Hunter, what am I thinking? I shouldn't send you to therapy. You don't deserve that."

Darius said nothing of the sort.

Instead, he sighed. "You have nothing to apologize for,"

Hunter felt fingerpads gently drill against his temple. "How do I get that through your stubborn skull?"

His insides writhed with empty dread.

So, apologizing was worthless in this case. Noted.

Before Darius left the room, Hunter's hair was affectionately ruffled. He slid his eyes shut and savoured the feeling.

Every day for the last few months, Hunter was handled with such gentleness by the people around him. It had become so frequent that he had come close to taking it for granted.

He once caught himself wondering if maybe one day he'd forget how it felt to be treated.....the other way.

Well, it certainly wouldn't be anytime soon.

Hunter was, quite possibly, one of Bonesborough's most insufferable roommates. The number of times Darius and Eberwolf were awoken at untitanly hours by the sound of him suffocating on his own serrated screams was embarrassing.

The memories still seared raw and achey, nowhere close to scabbing over.

He couldn't forget.

And now, he was about to experience it all over again. But for morally correct reasons this time.

Hunter exhaled, irritated by the way it rattled. He leaned forward and hung his head in his hands.

There was a persistent gnaw of guilt in his abdomen that he was doing his damndest to ignore.

He did not want to go to therapy. But he knew he'd be a coward to admit that.

This was supposed to be a noble thing, right? Atonement. He was supposed to be owning up to his mistakes like an adult. But, being faced with the imminent appointment made him feel more like a spineless child than ever.

"Do you know what therapy is?" Darius had asked a few weeks ago when the topic had first been broached.

His tone made made Hunter bristle. He felt patronized. Nothing made him shrink in humiliation more than being confronted with the fact that he still didn't know a lot of things.

"Of course I do!" He snapped, not bothering to mention that he had only learned of the concept a few days prior when Steve brought it up in conversation.

"It's so chill, dude," He had explained. "It really made me reflect on all the bad stuff I did as a scout, y'know? And now I feel like I can finally move past all that business without the ol' baggage wearin' me down."

"But what is it?" Hunter prodded. "What happens in therapy?"

"Well it's...y'know,"

Hunter frowned, impatient. He did not know.

"It's just you and them. In a room together. Alone. And...you talk. About stuff..." Steve shrugged airily. "It's just that, man."

The last words Steve uttered sounded like they were underwater because Hunter had mentally blipped out after hearing the words 'In a room,' 'Alone' and 'talk'

His blood had frozen over.

Steve's wrist was promptly squeezed by Hunter's jittery fingers. And when the older scout curiously met his eyes, he said solemnly, "Steve. You don't have to go there."

Steve smiled his pleasant, lopsided smile. "I want to, Hunter."

His voice was so soft, so sure of itself, that a heavy weight of devastation unloaded in Hunter's stomach.

"Sure, it's scary at first." Steve continued, giving Hunter's knuckles a comforting rap. "But over time....it helps."

And then, he said the words that Hunter selfishly wished he had never heard.

"I go to therapy, and I think I'm now a better guy than I used to be."

The rest of the interaction had fallen flat because Hunter suddenly felt very disconnected from his body, and Steve could not reel him back.

He remembered the curt businesslike knock on the door of his castle bedroom. He knew it as the sound of guards delivering a message. A slip of paper from the Emperor himself, requesting his presence in the throne room. To talk.

He remembered the soft-spoken echoey order once he entered.

"Close the door,"

Hunter would obey. And then, they were alone.

'In a room'

'Alone'

'Talk'

Hunter knew how to read between the lines.

He felt stupid. Naive. They had told him that the things Belos had done to him were wrong.

They promised him that it was wrong.

But it seemed as though Hunter had severely misunderstood.

The actions themselves were not wrong, but the reasoning.

Hunter did not deserve to be punished for failing to carry out the dirty work of a vile, depraved man.

Every punishment was undeserved by default, on the grounds of it being delivered by Belos.

But Hunter, idiot that he was, had foolishly believed that he was never going to be hurt like that again.

And if he was, he would at least take comfort in the fact that it was wrong.

The realizations were crashing over him in overpowering waves. He felt pathetic for not being able to take it.

I'd like to leave the Emperor's Coven and never set foot in that throne room again

I go to therapy, and I'm now a better guy than I used to be

There were people on the Isles who hurt you and....and it was right...?

You face the consequences of your actions, and you allow them to hurt you in a way that was ethical, and then....you were a better person.

Of course.

Of course that was how it worked.

How could he possibly believe it worked any differently?

It had struck him the moment Steve had said it, that nobody on the Isles deserved therapy more than Hunter.

The actions of the Golden Guard had been unspeakably cruel. All the times he had stood there, turning a blind eye, as his uncle tore open a living creature. All the carnage Hunter had allowed to happen directly in front of him.

It was borderline brainless of him to ever assume that he could escape consequences.

He desperately wanted to be a good person. He would start ripping his own innards out if it meant he could be deemed a good person.

He'd do anything. Really.

Which was why he had decided to steel his nerves and agree to therapy.

He would walk into that room and his legs would not shake.

He would tilt up his chin, close his eyes, and stomach the consequences he had earned.

And then, Titan willing, he'd be one step closer to being good.

And yet...he would rather be dismembered than admit it, but...

Hunter was scared. He was scared to receive his punishment.

After everything he had done to innocent lives, Hunter had the audacity to be scared of the punishment.

He disgusted himself.

_______________________________

With the Emperor's Coven dismantled, the vacant police precinct currently had a plethora of uses.

Most notably, it was a research facility that Darius frequented. The current project was working on a safe sigil extraction procedure. Hunter gave Darius a headache by asking for updates every damn day, despite the latter's insistence that it would probably take years to perfect.

But today, when Hunter visited the building, he and Darius did not turn right towards the lab, but they ventured down an entirely foreign hallway.

Hunter was doing everything in his power to keep his breathing steady.

"Would you like me to sit in the waiting room?" Asked Darius.

"No," Hunter answered.

They continued to cut through the hallway in silence.

"Yes," He corrected himself, so quiet he worried Darius wouldn't hear it.

He did hear it. "Alright. I think we'll pick up some fatty junk from the market for dinner tonight. I don't feel like cooking."

Darius hated fatty junk.

Despite the terror teething his insides, Hunter's lip still quirked upwards, feeling the tiniest surge of warmth.

He loved fatty junk. And Darius knew it.

His therapy session was not the end of the world. Life would continue afterwards, and there would still be little pleasures.

And he would be a better person than he was now.

Once Darius checked him in, Hunter tried not to squirm in the uncomfortable waiting room chair, debating whether he wanted to pick up one of the trashy magazines on the rack.

According to the front cover of one of the tabloids, a star grudgby player had an organ eating scandal. Typical tabloid stuff.

"Hunter?" Called a soft, docile voice that nonetheless made him glad he didn't eat breakfast because he wanted to puke.

Darius tapped his knee to signal him to stand up, which Hunter did. He managed to not cave in.

He crossed the waiting room and pushed the door open, pretending that he wasn't experiencing alarming flashes of hands and eyes and dripping green blades.

He was ready. He was going to be a good person.

"Hello, Hunter~" Singsonged a small pudgy woman, who was in the process of donning an ankle length cardigan. Occellena. "Do you find it chilly in here, by any chance?" She asked.

Taken aback by the question, Hunter dumbly shook his head.

"Guess it's just me, then. It's a curse. Cold blooded n' all."

She had a head of plump indigo tentacles, and her bright amber eyes were magnified by jar-like spectacles.

"Well, let me know if you catch a chill and I'll turn up the heater."

The heater in question was a crystal ball the size of an ottoman with a blazing flame contained in the glass.

Occellena swept across the room to where Hunter stood and put a hand to the door. "Let's just close this and we can get--"

As far as he was aware, he did not do anything. But something made her take pause, and when she glanced his way, he felt himself jot.

"Or would you prefer to keep it open?"

The question initially escaped his comprehension. It seemed out of the realm of his own reality.

Hunter's throat tightened. And when he tried to speak, he failed.

He nodded again.

"Okay!" She said cheerily, like this was the best thing she had heard all day.

Out of the thousands of tangles in Hunter's stomach, one of them spread loose.

It was faint, but he distinctly felt the way that tangle relaxed itself.

"So, we'll leave the door open for now," said Occellena. "And if you decide at any point that you don't want that anymore, you can just pop right up and give it a swing shut."

Defenses still scaling high, Hunter had no idea what to make of this.

"Anyway," She made to walk towards her own chair, politely beckoning him to follow with one of her tentacles. "Shall we sit? I recently got a new couch. I'd really like some feedback on how comfy it is."

_______________________________

Darius would never say it, but his heart was hammering like a jackalope with worry for that ridiculous kid. His legs kept crossing and uncrossing in the waiting room chairs that seemed specifically designed to be uncomfortable.

Darius had bumped into Occellena on a few occasions in the upstairs kitchen. He had spiked his apple blood while she grounded oyster shells into her tea. He had never been one for chit-chat, but she had been nothing but bubbly with him, in spite of his less than enthusiastic responses.

He couldn't determine her skills as a therapist from just a few conversations, but the extensive research he had done to find a qualified candidate had promised that she was highly competent

But was she 'Golden Guard as a client' competent?

Was anyone?

If all else failed, she was sweet. Hunter loved sweet people.

He needed this to go well. If Hunter had a bad therapy experience, it would both stunt his recovery progress and leave him far less willing to try again for the foreseeable future.

Darius resisted the urge to stand up and pace the room, knowing his footsteps would probably disturb Hunter's session.

He noticed that the door remained slightly ajar, which he found peculiar.

Were they not supposed to keep the doors closed? Client confidentiality and all that mumbo jumbo?

Granted, he could not make out the words being said. The pitch of two voices, definitely, but it was all muffled nothingness.

His nerves were barbed during those first few minutes, in which Occellena carried on speaking for several seconds at a time, while Hunter only offered singular sentences as a response.

It was fine, he convinced himself. They were just warming up.

The moments passed, and the session seemed to take a turn in a positive direction.

The seconds in which the slightly lower pitched voice stretched a little bit longer every time he spoke. Louder too.

At some point, he seemed to take off babbling, presumably having one of those obsession buttons pushed.

Darius could only imagine that Occellena had asked about one of Hunter's many passions. That would certainly work wonders.

He had such terrible control of his own volume when he got too eager, so this was a promising sign.

After that, the conversation took a subdued dip, the silences hanging for longer.

And then, he heard footsteps. He straightened his posture, startled by the session seemingly wrapping up so soon.

But no. It was the door clicking shut.

From then on, total silence. Thirty minutes of just Darius, his trashy tales of organ eating athletes, and the vacant uncertainty of how Hunter's first therapy session was going.

And then it was over.

When Darius saw Hunter emerge from the room with Occellena's hand on his shoulder, his eyes were strikingly rimmed with red.

"So I'll see you next week. Don't worry yourself with telling Jewel, I'll have her put it down in the system. Be sure to take it easy for the rest of the evening, alright?"

Though he looked like every ounce of energy had been sapped out of him, Hunter still pulled up a smile for her, and Darius recognized sincere warmth on that face when he saw it.

"I will. Thanks, Occellena,"

And when he approached Darius, he looked relieved, ashamed, and dazed all at once.

"Hey," He greeted, uncharacteristically quiet.

"Hey," Darius responded, softly incredulous. "Shall we go ruin our skin with your accursed bag of grease now?"

His reddened eyes glinted with light boyish amusement. He nodded.

Hunter did not say much during their quest through the Bonesborough marketplace, and Darius vaguely wondered if he should be concerned.

As much as he complained about the boy being an incurable chatterbox, his silence unnerved him.

Hopefully, the session had used up too much of his blabbering muscles.

It wasn't until they were home and seated on opposite ends of the dining room table that Darius understood.

One of his most strictly enforced household rules was that dinner must be served on an actual plate. No takeout containers allowed on his property.

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the atrocity known as deep-fried eyeballs that were making a greasy mess out of his ornate lilac dishes.

Hunter was rolling the unsavoury little orbs around with his fork.

He seemed relaxed, if distracted, so Darius decided to pop the question, only to fill the silence, if anything.

"Do you want to tell me how it went today? With Occellena?"

Hunter's fork went still, but his eyes never dared to draw away from the fatty dinner in front of him.

When he opened his mouth, his bottom lip wobbled, searching for a voice that he did not seem to possess right now.

"It's alright," said Darius. "What happens in therapy stays in therapy. Isn't that what they say?"

Hunter did not respond to that, not even with a glance or a nod or anything of the sort.

He remained hung up on the struggle of getting his initial words out. The bump of his throat bobbed.

Finally, with a small, feeble voice that cracked around the edges, Hunter said, "I didn't think she was gonna be nice to me..."

The silence that fell was born of complete and utter bewilderment. Darius was so flabbergasted by the statement that he spoke before he fully thought it over.

"Well, that is to be expected from therapy," A touch of laughter rose and fell between the words. "I mean, surely you didn't think she would--?"

Darius cut himself off, his smile dropping as he noticed the visible tremor of Hunter's mouth, which he had forced into a thin line.

"Hunter?"

The boy lifted his head, bright brown eyes already pooling with an open, lost, childlike anguish. Then he blinked and it spilled to his cheekbones. He looked to Darius searchingly, like he wanted to ask something, but he could not utter a sound more.

"Hunter...? What did you think was going to happen...?"

[laughhardrunfastbekindsblog]

These Scars Remain

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 6 | Prompt: Battle Scars

Summary: "Did I ever tell you what Tech did when I got my first big scar?" POV: Wrecker (Word Count: 3131)

Read on Ao3

Notes: I touched on a few of the concepts here in one of my other works that I wrote up while imagining how the months between episodes 2.16 and 3.02 had gone for Hunter, Wrecker and Echo. And recently I've been thinking a lot about how Wrecker might have gotten the huge scar on his face. And then I saw this week's prompt. This is the result.

            “Wrecker.”

            Pain. So much pain.

            “Wrecker!”

            Blinding… burning… pain… ringing… agony… so dark…

            “Wrecker! Wake up!”

            Stabbing… crushing… why wouldn’t the pain stop… just make it stop…

            “WRECKER!”

            That voice… he knew that voice… who… Tech, why was Tech yelling at him? Why was the ground shaking…?

            Wrecker came to with a groan. He wanted to move, find his way to more solid ground so he would stop shaking – maybe he wouldn’t hurt as much if he wasn’t shaking – but the only part of his body he could manage to move for himself was his eyelids.

            The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Tech’s goggles, which were currently taking up most of his field of vision – a field of vision that was narrower than usual… Wrecker blinked, what was wrong with his left eye?

            Then he realized the ground had stopped moving… No, Tech had stopped shaking him. Why had Tech been shaking him…? Had he been asleep? Were they late for a battle simulation or…?

            Suddenly Wrecker remembered: the squad was in their third and final week of completing individual field tests, tests that would determine whether each member of the squad was prepared to progress to the final months of advanced training. Hunter and Crosshair were currently in a different room, Wrecker didn’t yet know what tests had been assigned to those two today. Wrecker and Tech had been shuffled into another area, with Tech being assigned target drills with the blasters in one corner of the long training room, and Wrecker being given the task of disarming a bomb at the other end of the room.

            He had thought it would be a smoke bomb or something similar, he had been told as much – at least, he thought that’s what he had been told by the trainers before they left to watch the proceedings from the observation room. Wrecker still wasn’t sure what had gone wrong, but he was starting to think that definitely had not been a smoke bomb…

            But it didn’t really matter what kind of bomb it had been; he should have been able to disarm it. All the regular cadets had to prove themselves to a certain standard; Wrecker knew full well that his squad of 99s had to prove themselves to be not just on par with the regs, but superior.

            Now, Wrecker couldn’t help but recall that how quickly a cadet recovered from injury during training often played a role in determining whether said cadet was decommissioned or not. And… well, Wrecker knew he had definitely been injured.

            That, on top of having clearly failed the test…

            He didn’t know if retakes were allowed with these exams – he had never asked. None of his squad had needed to.

            “Wrecker! Can you hear me?” Tech may have stopped shaking him, but his anxious voice persisted in calling Wrecker’s name, and Wrecker realized he had spent the last few seconds of reverie staring in a silent daze.

            “Y… Yeah, Tech, I can hear you,” Wrecker replied. His words sounded muffled, garbled to his ears. It hurt so much to talk, but he tried to keep talking anyway, more to reassure Tech than anything else. “Guess I…”

            Tech suddenly disappeared from Wrecker’s line of sight, replaced by a medical droid. “The stimulant worked, CT-9903 has regained consciousness,” Wrecker heard the droid report, before he felt himself being lifted onto a gurney.

            Oh. He was going to be taken to the medical wing. That was fine… just, he didn’t really like going to the medical wing, he didn’t like all the tests that involved being poked and prodded and scanned, and he definitely didn’t like being there alone…

            “CT-9902, where are you going?” the gruff voice of Gibli Ecto, their trainer, sounded somewhere behind Wrecker.

            “I’m going with my brother to the medical wing. I want to stay with him,” Wrecker heard Tech reply.

            “He’ll be just fine on his own. You need to finish your exam. You weren’t supposed to leave your testing station in the first place,” Ecto returned in a tone of finality.     

            “I already passed the test,” Tech replied.

            “Excuse me?”

            Tech’s voice was fading as Wrecker was carried further away, and Wrecker strained to hear his brother’s frank explanation: “Of the 150 targets on the exam, I have already accurately hit the first 136 of them, yielding an average 90.6% hit rate. Even if I miss the last fourteen targets, I’ve already exceeded the target rate required for passing at this point in my training. I don’t need to complete the remainder of the test. I want to accompany CT-9903 to the medical wing.”

            “CT-9902, your insubordination is grounds for disciplinary action…”

            “Let him go, Ecto,” one of the other trainers sighed – Wrecker couldn’t tell who was speaking now, maybe Timbria? “He’s right, he already passed. And these are special circumstances. CT-9902, you’re dismissed.”

            “Yes, sir;” and Wrecker heard hurried footsteps catch up to him before his gurney was carried through the test room doors.

            “I’m here, Wrecker,” Tech said matter-of-factly, placing a hand briefly on Wrecker’s right shoulder to reinforce the fact of his presence. “I’ll stay with you during the medical tests.”

            “Thanks, Tech,” Wrecker said weakly. It still hurt to talk, still hurt to breathe, still hurt to think – and Wrecker found himself succumbing to unconsciousness again.

---

            “Oh good, you’re awake,” was the first sound to greet Wrecker’s right ear.

            “What… what happened?” Wrecker said bemusedly, staring around at the sterile and well-lit room, registering the fact that the left side of his face and head was heavily wrapped in bandages; and the events of the day rapidly caught up to him even before Tech spoke again.

            “You were unsuccessful in disarming the bomb,” Tech started.

            “Yeah, and it blew up in my face. Got it,” Wrecker said, trying to ignore the sick feeling that was developing anew in the pit of his stomach. He was grateful it had been an individual rather than a group exam, that none of his brothers had been nearby when the bomb had gone off, but… What would happen to him for failing his first explosives test? He had heard rumors of other cadets being decommissioned for far less. “I mean, what happened after I passed out again?”

            “You’ve only been unconscious for half an hour, but that was ample time for the medical droids to see to your wounds,” Tech said conversationally, before his tone turned more somber and he seemed reluctant to continue. “Based on what they were saying amongst themselves, I don’t think you’ll regain function of your left eye or ear.”

            “You mean… I won’t be able to see or hear on that side again?”

            “That is correct.”

            Wrecker tried to shrug – oh, it hurt to shrug. And it hurt to grimace from the pain of shrugging. Even thinking still hurt. But none of that mattered. So long as they let him retake the test, he’d learn to live with the pain, just like he’d learn to live partially blind and deaf. He was going to be a soldier and stay with his squad, no matter what. “Guess it’s a good thing I have backups. One ear and eye’s enough. I can still crush droids.”

            Ever since the first wave of graduates had been shipped out a few months ago to officially serve in the Galactic Army of the Republic and fight in the new war, cadets had been informed that they would primarily be facing battle droids, and battle simulations had shifted to reflect this. Barreling through droids had become one of Wrecker’s favorite things to do, and just thinking about it now would have been enough to make him smile – if it didn’t hurt so much to move his face.

            Tech smiled at Wrecker’s brash determination. “That is also correct. It does not seem that your injuries will have any permanent effect on your brute strength and physical domination of the battlefield.”  

            He sounded almost relieved as he said it, and Wrecker suddenly realized Tech was as worried about Wrecker being decommissioned as he himself was.

            Maybe that was why Tech had not only left his own test without permission to make sure Wrecker was alive after the explosion, but also had been so insistent on staying by Wrecker’s side afterwards. If anyone would be able to mount a successful argument against decommissioning any member of this squad of 99s – even if the argument went up against Prime Minister Lama Su himself – it would be Tech.

            The squad had been together long enough and understood each other well enough that Wrecker knew he could count on any one of his brothers for anything. Still, the fact that Tech had risked his own standing as a cadet just to be able to stay close and ensure Wrecker’s safety made Wrecker’s heart warm with gratitude, and he felt in his bones that whatever happened, Tech would always be there for him.

            Wrecker loved his brothers so much. Nobody could have asked for better squadmates.

            “You’re the first of us to be assigned that task. I wasn’t aware the disarming test involved thermal explosives,” Tech said now.

            “I didn’t know either,” Wrecker replied in a low voice.

            Tech sighed. “At any rate, you’re going to have a very – ah, impressive scar.”

            Wrecker frowned as he cautiously patted the layers of bandages on his head. “How do you know?”

            “I saw the damage. The droids did their best and it’s already healing quickly, but… there was a lot of tissue missing. Your hair probably won’t grow back in that area either. All along here – ” and Tech indicated the area by stretching his hand over his own left ear and side of his head.

            The full implications suddenly hit Wrecker; and despite the continued pain, he grinned.

            “What is it?” Tech asked curiously.

            “It’ll be my first battle scar.”

            “I’m not sure you can call it a ‘battle’ scar when you didn’t sustain it in a real battle,” Tech replied drily.

            “I know I didn’t get it in a real battle, but most of the other regs won’t know that,” Wrecker countered. “The important thing is, the regs’ll see this scar and they’ll know I survived something big. And since the scar is right on my face, no one will miss it!”

“Unless you have your helmet on,” Tech pointed out.

            Wrecker stammered for a moment as he tried to come up with an appropriately witty response, but before he could verbalize his retort, the door slid open to admit two very anxious-looking cadets.

            “Wrecker!” Hunter exclaimed, hurrying over to the bed.

            “An actual explosion. Is there anything you can’t survive?” Crosshair quipped as he came up behind Hunter, though the worry was still apparent in his eyes.

            Wrecker tried to guffaw, though it came out more as a wheeze. “It’ll take a lot more than that to put me out of the fight!”

            Hunter shook his head. “This shouldn’t have happened. You weren’t supposed to be tested with a thermal explosive in the first place. From what I can tell, the trainers are all trying to figure out what went wrong.”

            Well, at least he hadn’t misheard critical information… but he had still failed the test, and he was still badly injured, and he couldn’t help but think that he might be deemed unfit to be a soldier.

            “That should be grounds to allow him to retest, then,” Tech was saying thoughtfully.

            “Oh, yeah,” Hunter said, “that’s not gonna be an issue.”

            Hunter said it so confidently, Wrecker couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief. “Really? So I’m not getting…”

            He couldn’t finish the sentence, but all of them knew exactly what he meant.

            “Nope, you’re not,” Hunter said. “I overheard Nala Se saying we’re ahead of the curve already, whatever that means, and that the Jedi will probably want to see our skills for themselves when they get here.”

            Tech’s face perked up with interest. “Jedi?”

            “Yeah. Some of the cadets were saying some Jedi will be coming to oversee training operations from now on. I guess it’s true.”

            Tech now had his “explanation incoming” expression on. “That will be most interesting to experience. The Jedi are formidable warriors, and by all accounts their ways seem to be quite distinct from the Mandalorian and even Kaminoan styles of fighting and training. They have been…”

            “Yeah, yeah, Tech, we didn’t ask,” Crosshair cut him off with a playful shoulder bump to offset the harshness of his voice.

            Wrecker shifted himself slightly to a more comfortable position, noticing that the excruciating pain had become more bearable now that he wasn’t worried about his fate and the fate of his squad, now that he could look forward with new resolutions.

            He wasn’t going to be decommissioned over this. He was going to become an explosives expert – no bomb would ever best him again, and he wouldn’t let any bomb pose a threat to any of his brothers. He was going to be one of the best soldiers out there, just like his brothers were going to be, even if he only had one working eye and ear. He was going to wear his battle scar with pride, because it showed that he might get knocked down, but he would never be beaten. And as long as he, Wrecker, wasn’t beaten, his brothers wouldn’t be, either.

He would make sure of it.

********

“You must sever the connection hinge. Now!”

Pain. So much pain.

            “There is no time, Wrecker. Plan 99.”

            Blinding… burning… pain… ringing… agony… so dark…

            “When have we ever followed orders?”

            Stabbing… crushing… why wouldn’t the pain stop… just make it stop… JUST MAKE IT STOP…

            “Wrecker?”

Echo’s voice drew Wrecker’s thoughts away from Tech’s final words ringing again in his ear, though it wasn’t enough to draw his gaze away from Tech’s broken goggles.

            He didn’t want to think of Tech as broken. He had tried so hard since Eriadu to focus on happy memories with Tech, their time together as cadets, as soldiers, as deserters, their lives together as brothers. But sometimes – most times – focusing on Tech’s life was impossible, when the brutal reality set in.

            Tech was dead. Wrecker hadn’t been able to save him. Omega was gone. Wrecker hadn’t been able to save her – it had been days and they hadn’t even been able to find her. But there was hope Omega would be found and rescued. There was no hope for the same for Tech.

            “Does it ever get better, Echo?”

            For a brief moment, Wrecker wasn’t sure if Echo had heard the question – his voice had been so low and gruff he wasn’t sure if he had even heard himself – but then Echo sighed and leaned against the console, crossing his arms as he faced Wrecker.

            “Yes,” Echo said slowly. “It does get better. But it never goes away completely. You’ll go for longer stretches of time – days, weeks even – feeling okay, the ache is so dim you almost don’t notice it. And then suddenly you’ll feel the pain all over again, like it never left in the first place. But that won’t last long, the pain will fade again, because you’ll have learned to live with it. Just like all the other injuries and losses you’ve learned to live with.”  

            Wrecker sat in silence, grappling with this explanation. He knew Echo had lost brothers before – lost his entire original squad, actually – and he figured Echo must know what he was talking about… but Wrecker didn’t understand it. At all. Losing a brother wasn’t like losing one’s sight or hearing, wasn’t the same as recovering from a blaster wound or a knife to the gut or burns from an explosion.

            Especially since the brother that had been lost had been with Wrecker since the beginning, had helped him through every single injury, every single hurt, those that had healed without leaving a trace and those that had left scars – all of them, except this one.

            Some battle scars couldn’t be seen. The losses that caused them ate away slowly on the inside without leaving any physical marks, just aching emptiness that somehow hurt even worse than every other injury Wrecker had ever experienced.

            All of Wrecker’s physical injuries had healed over time. He didn’t think it was possible that time would somehow make this wound heal too.

            As if he knew exactly what Wrecker was thinking, Echo now added, “It hurts a lot, at first; but remembering my brothers, what they meant to me, all I learned from them helped me keep moving forward. That’s how I learned to live with it. I live for them.”

            “I… I keep trying to think of Tech, of how much he talked and studied and came up with some of the craziest plans,” Wrecker confessed. “I wanna talk out loud about it, but…”

            He didn’t need to finish the sentence. If he wanted to ramble on about Tech, Hunter would patiently listen to him – Wrecker knew this; but, much as his older brother tried to hide it, the look in Hunter’s eyes when Wrecker had first done this had been more than enough to convince Wrecker to stop. Hunter just wasn’t ready to talk or listen about Tech, and Wrecker had to respect that.

            But thoughts and memories like these flowed easier for Wrecker when he was able to talk through them. Holding it all in was so hard.

            Echo glanced back at Hunter, who was currently sleeping fitfully on his rack. The lengths to which Wrecker and Echo had had to go in order to convince Hunter to rest at all…

            “You can talk to me, you know,” Echo offered. “There’s a lot about your time as cadets on Kamino that I don’t know about.”

            Wrecker sat in silence for some time, staring again at Tech’s goggles. Tech had had such poor eyesight that couldn’t be corrected without lenses, no matter what Nala Se and the other medical personnel had tried, that of all the 99s in the squad, he had nearly always been at highest risk for decommissioning; and after Wrecker’s failed disarming test, it had been comforting to know that one brother really understood what it was like to have limited vision, even if Tech had pestered him for months with all the options he had researched of possible ways to restore Wrecker’s vision in his left eye, while Wrecker had responded by teasing Tech that at least spectacles were not one of the options.

            The memory was enough to almost bring a smile to Wrecker’s face – almost – and he glanced up at Echo.

            “Did I ever tell you what Tech did when I got my first big scar?”

@summer-of-bad-batch