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batstorm93672 · 3 years ago

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Plauged by nightmares for a whole week.

Damian doesn't know why or how it started, it just wouldn't let up. Now it's getting in the way of school and his nighttime work.

There Damian sat up with unfallen tears in his eyes and sweat trailing down his face. He barely remembers what it was about this time, lately the nightmares have mushed together, so either the League or Hell or his death. All of them bad and annoying him to a far extent. He had his knees to his chest, resting his arms on the top of his knees. Damian could see the shaking of his palms in the dark, it was an aftereffect he can't stop. Lately it's just been a cycle of waking up at night and trembling until he can go back to sleep then waking up feeling as if he got no sleep whatsoever. Damian watched Titus's body heave up and down in a rhythm of sleep. Blissful sleep that Damian wished he had, sometimes Titus would be awake to comfort him, but tonight he was out playing for so long Titus tuckered himself out.

How long has it been since he fell back asleep? Maybe three hours ago he was staring at his trembling hands, now he was greeted by light through his blinds. Damian wanted to shut the world out so he could sleep longer, but he knows better (sadly he does, the temptation to rest his head back down and close his eyes was immeasurable)

"Hey Dami? You awake? Alfred made breakfast. If you're not awake then he can save it and I'll reheat it for you if you'd like" Bright sunny Richard. So much energy that Damian doesn't have, of course Richard had his dark sides and Damian knows that as well as everyone else. Yet that cheery optimism was a sight indeed.

Damian was debating on whether or not he should pretend that he's sleeping and be alone with his dog for awhile. The temptation is so difficult...

"I'll be there soon Richard"

"Okay, see you downstairs"

"Hey, you listening? You wanted to hear about the case right? You gotta pay attention" Tim snapped his fingers and Damian blinked looking at his brother who had a laptop in front of him. "Tt. Continue, you don't need to hold my hand in order for me to listen" "Hm..." Tim stared and Damian could see the questions bouncing around Tim's mind, as if Damian was a puzzle. Damian kept a straight face, don't let anything slip and Tim will find that this puzzle is guarded away and won't go into it.

As wanted, Tim went back towards the case and Damian listened.

Damian sat up, everything was blurry and a mess. His mouth was dry and all words were pushed away as he looked at his trembling hands. Again it continues, this cycle of nightmares.

Why won't it end? Why did it begin? Why every night?

Damian covered his face, he could feel some tears at the edge of falling down so he wiped it away before it could.

"Demon, you alive there? Don't go drooling in your food"

"Oh, my apologies"

Damian felt like a robot, holding the fork in his hand and stabbing at the eggs in order to shove it down his mouth. This routine was sickening. He can't even think properly.

"You seem out it"

"I agree, Master Damian, how have you been feeling?"

"I'm well, simply trying to wake myself up is all"

That's not a lie, he had to mentally make himself stay awake long enough for the day to end, only to awaken and start over.

"Damian?" Father, was calling him

Damian looked up to see that everyone around the table was looking directly at him. What did he miss? Did he make a mistake?

"Yes father?"

"Dick was calling your name. You weren't responding"

Richard?

"What was it you were saying Richard?"

"I was calling you for three minutes and you sat there looking lost, are you okay? Do you feel sick?"

"I assure you, my physical condition is well. I am not ill, merely-"

Jason cut Damian off "What about mentally?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Physically you are well, what is your mental condition?"

"Fine as well Jason" Damian glared a bit and turned back to Dick "As I was saying, I'm not sick. Merely shaking off some of my slumber" Alfred cleared his throat "That is quite common, wouldn't you all agree? How about we leave the questions and let Master Damian be able to eat?" Dick and Jason mumbled out apologies and Damian mentally thanked Alfred for that. Alfred doesn't know, but still not having to keep this conversation was better than having to force himself to talk and appeal to everyone.

Damian sliced the head of a dummy off clean, his body felt heavy with having to stay awake. So badly did Damian want to sleep, but the outcome would always be nightmares.

"Nice cut"

Stephanie

"Thank you"

"Mmhm, having fun?"

"I suppose if slicing off heads is an ideal part of one's stimuli of enjoyment, then yes I'm having fun"

"Hehehe yeah, every person's go-to. I wanted to ask if you've been feeling okay? At breakfast you seemed out of it and at lunch you almost looked like a zombie" "Thank you for your concern, but I'm fine" "Damian if something is wrong, you should tell someone before it gets worse"

"Everything is fine, I'm fine, it's all fine Stephanie"

"Damian, you're crying"

"Wha-"

Damian felt at his face, he was indeed crying as mentioned. "I'm not crying" Turning away and wiping his face with his sleeve roughly. "I'm fine Stephanie" This conversation was getting difficult for Damian to keep going. His mind was getting foggy and the rush of exhaustion wavered his movements "I'm sorry I pushed you there. I was worried. I'll let you be" Damian nodded and left.

Reaching out of the dirt to escape the flames. The screams rang in his ears as laughter came from below. So badly he wanted to escape and make it back to them. Just a little more! The light of the dirt making it's way he kept digging himself out. His hands hurt, but it doesn't matter, just a little more! Just-- The burning chains seared into his legs, the burning flesh making him cry out. Then the plummeting feeling in his stomach as he fell back down farther away from the light of freedom.

He sat up. With a small shout escaping his lips he had to make himself aware of his surroundings. Damian looked at his shaking hands, feeling his body crumple under the weight of the lack of sleep he's been receiving lately.

Damian put his hands in his hair, the trembles wouldn't stop. Tears ran down his face and he wanted to stop it. To stop the nightmares that haunted him, the pain that never ended and the amount of times he awoke only to stare at his shaking hands.

Damian looked down and buried his head into his knees.

His door creaked open and Damian wasn't fully aware to pay attention to it. Titus walked in followed by Richard.

"Dames?"

Damian didn't respond, it seemed that Titus brought help this time. Normally it would be Titus by him sleeping or being there to help. This night was worse than the others, so Titus brought backup. Dick walked over and sat by Damian.

"Damian, baby, what's wrong?"

"...m-make it stop p-please make it stop"

"What do you want to stop?"

"Nightmares... so many of them"

"Oh, is this why you've been so out of it? Come here" Damian pressed himself into Dick's embrace the tears falling faster. "Oh my poor baby, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here, you're okay now" "R-Richard... Richard don't leave me please don't leave me don't let me go" "No, no, no I won't let you go. You're with me Dames. I won't let you go. I got you, you're in my arms and I won't let you go" Damian buried his head in the nook of Dick's neck and cried. "Don't leave me... don't l-leave me alone again" "I won't, I won't leave you. You're okay and you're safe"

Damian wore himself out, holding Dick as much as he could before his cries became sniffles. Dick rubbed Damian's back in small circles as he held Damian. "There we go... you're okay Damian. You're okay, no one can hurt you. Nothing won't take you away"

"I didn't want to tell anyone... I thought if I just let it happen then it would go away... it doesn't. It hasn't gone away, I haven't been able to sleep for a week now... everytime I wake up and I can't stop shaking, I can't focus on anything. I'm sorry Richard... I'm sorry"

"There's no reason to say sorry, nightmares are scary and it can make the most toughest people cry. It's okay Damian, it's okay to have nightmares and want to come to someone and cry. Cause I'll be here with open arms to help you. Okay?"

"Okay"

"Do you want to go back to sleep?"

"Will you stay..?"

"You don't even have to ask"

#damian wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #stephanie brown #alfred pennyworth #tw nightmares #tw hell

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gunnerkriggcritical · 2 years ago

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So, I want to talk about how the comic has kind of aged like milk when it comes to breaking a lot of bog standard tropes.

I find it funny looking back, we had a lot of foreshadowing for Tony being a character put on a pedestal. The dudes in a relationship with a girl in the Gunnerkrigg Court story are kind of the same model of stoic nerdy average looking quiet guys who are mature because they don't get emotional. The stand out is Jimmy James Eglamore but we know how Tom likes to show him as the most flawed dude alive for being overly emotional and taking things personally. Jack was the stand out for awhile with his snarky playful personality, but went through a character arc, and is now just as mello and quiet as Andrew with small outburts of emotion implied to be because of mental illness. It makes me wonder if Tom follows the idea that stoicness is a sign of maturity, which unfortunately a thing here in England.

Idk I guess long story short I don't like the weird overarching pattern of Toms idea of what maturity actually is, and how he seemingly things it's different for boys and girls. If Loup ends up a stoic dude by the end I'll probably laugh my ass off.

Also I never read this comic for the relationships, but honestly. I hope Tom isn't going to kill the only important LGBT couples in the story in tragic gays fashion. As of now Kats and Pathe is the only relationship not on a doomed track. Cus Robot is shaping up to be the final big bad and Zimmy has a target on her back. I will say he seems to be trying really hard with Shell as a character, but she again is falling into that 'is immature because she is emotional' pattern.

Hmm, good points, but I’m not sure I entirely agree! I don’t think Tony is meant to be portrayed as mature and well-adjusted in any respect - in fact, his repression and stoicism are explicitly a bad thing in the world of the comic. I’m also not sure you can say this is an issue confined to the men - Donnie and Anja have very similar quiet personalities, I think, while Parley has also mellowed a lot with age.

I do agree that Jack has lost his personality, which was pretty disappointing for me this last chapter. I also agree with you that it doesn’t seem like most of the LGBT couples are going to survive the comic unscathed, which would be a pretty bad look. (At least Red and Ayilu are probably safe.)

#gunnerkrigg court critical #gunnerkrigg #gunnerkrigg court #answers

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border-spam · 4 years ago

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Does troy really have a split jaw or is that fanon?

It's total fanon!

The design of the split lines across his cheekbones and chin coupled with the cheek clips and v shaped hinge outline next to his ears lead to a lot of people coming to that same outcome, that there is something up with his mouth from a prosthetic/mod standpoint.

So much of his design is never mentioned once or referenced in any way (hightech spinal rig with tattoos under it, neuro connector, mech arm that's much older and doesn't seem related to the spine and neuroport, implants on bicep, face mod etc) that like Tyreen's scars and possible lower body Siren markings, fandom took over when it came to coming up with logical explanations for 'em.

This actually touches ground with some Ao3 comments I wanted to share as they are all Leech Lord compliant, so I'll list them here alongside links to the fics they were related to (note warnings!)

You leave no avenue for characterization unexplored. Troy's facial prostheses finally receiving backstory is amazing

- Maw (Gore/Bodyhorror)

I LOVE the idea of it being not just decorative shit on his face, but my MO for any content I make is always based around asking why, over and over, and trying to make sense of what material I'm using in the first place. The modded mouth is a popular piece of fanon but you know... why? Why would he do that shit to himself. WHY would he want to be grotesque, why would he be chasing the reaction people would have to it when canonically he seems to really not be interested in fan attention the same way Tyreen is, what's the difference to him between being adored as his persona or being lusted after as a monster, etc. I just love deep-diving into the logic behind character and world building? It's what adds meat to the bone for me.

Big 'ol character and worldbuilding / lore responses list under the cut -

He could afford better robots but these ones UNDERSTAND Ty, don't you get it?

- Good night in (tooth rotting fluff)

Hey just because it's mangled and broken, and can't perform its intended function to a degree expected of it by everyone around it... and it's got rusty sharp bits it accidentally hurts you with sometimes... and it's cranky but it doesn't mean it... and sometimes it errors out in a way that's mildly disturbing in a way you can't place.. uh.. doesn't mean you should just GIVE UP ON IT you know? He can fix them :) They will be fine :) No one should just throw away something that's trying so hard just because it's damaged... haha... :')

It's so hard seeing how much they tear each other down when they're the only thing they have left. And what a poor self-image Tyreen has beyond all that glitter and bluster...

- Wolf in sheep's clothing

The twins function well enough as a unit till tensions rise, and I was trying to seed in The Leech's influence on them in earlier work like this too - towards anyone else Ty would become MORE aggressively confident, more assured in her complete and utter dominance of the situation, her flawlessness, but against Troy who see's her for what she is, it turns inwards and eats at her instead of lashing outwards. He switches from relatively submissive around her to almost surgical levels of dissection, he knows exactly how to go for the jugular with words, and doesn't hold back. She's The Leech's mouth but he's its eyes and it's only when they lose control emotionally enough for it to claw to the surface of their psyches that you get an idea of how much it really affects them individually. GB had an absolute goldmine on their hands here of cosmic/body horror and the concept of toxic family when all you have is each other, there's so much to work with, and I figure it's a factor in why some people still really enjoy messing around with Calypso content.

I like how you allow Troy to be a disabled character, how his congenital defects and prosthetics colour his outlook and appear in ways big and small in all these vignettes. It's easy, I think, to see him as largely untroubled by his health apart from when he needs a charge from Tyreen in the game, but you allow him to struggle with his weakness.

- Chronic (Drug use)

I'm really glad to hear that's coming through in the writing because it's something I noticed a lot too. Very often when Troy, or other characters canonically disabled / chronically unwell are written it's "told" and not "shown". Chronic pain, illness, it's not something that is just a little tickbox in a life or some descriptive terms added to a character synopsis, it's something you live and deal with. There are bad days. There are times it is a negative that has to be worked around or faced in ways that aren't pleasant. It doesn't make you lesser or weak to have times where illness does leave you unable to function to a level you want to, it's not a failure for you to be unable to perform tasks when a disability or flair up means it's not viable. I feel personally that by showing scenes like this where his health and body issues do have a very visceral and impossible to ignore the effect on his ability to function, and going through his mental processes of dealing with and managing them, it brings the character across as stronger than if he never seemed to be shown dealing with symptoms or weaknesses. People are more than their disabilities and conditions, those aren't just kinda taglines to add onto a character's description and then never address. I feel like doing that in a way undermines what people deal with who manage chronic illness, pain, and who have disabilities that affect their daily lives negatively. Appreciating the effort it takes to manage them is important.

What I really like about these is that you can really understand as a reader how their dynamic must have evolved. How even before Leda's death Tyreen would have felt demonized while Troy got the attention because of his condition, because he was less willful.

- Starlight, Moonbright

Ah man, absolutely - and that shit stayed with them. It wasn't his fault and he never wanted it, but of course their parents would have had their extremely ill child at the forefront of their thoughts, especially during weeks when he was.. bad. Tyreen by nature even without The Leech's influence is a little attention seeker, she'd be the life of any party and she BLOSSOMS if she's got the spotlight, but as a little kid who's got literally no one but her parents and her brother, and who all three of which can't give her nearly as much time as she deserved? That's rough. That's really unfair. That coupled with The Leech's warping effect on their egos as they grew up and the bitterness and resentment they harbored in different ways created a reverse dynamic. She'd never be out of the Galaxy's attention again, and he'd have no choice but to take his rightful place in her shadow.

I love how you illustrate both how much more, and yet how much less Troy is now. How the blameless child, full of potential, is inextricably linked to the brutal, larger-than-life avatar he fashions.

- DeLeon ( Graphic Violence / Gore / Hallucinations)

He's molded the monster he is now out of the bones of the man he should have been - there's no going back really. There's nothing left to go back to. He broke Troy DeLeon apart to build the persona that acts like an iron lung now, suffocating him breath by breath while forcing him to still take them. That life is over, he killed it before it had a chance, but the idea of it is still there in his subconscious. Somewhere in the absolute trainwreck of Troy's brain is the tiny, flickering belief that maaaaaybe one day this will all be over and he can shuck off the bracer and spines, peel off all the shit he's covered his skin with, and just go back to not being Calypso. DeLeon here isn't some aspect of his mental state or his sins haunting him - it's The Leech, spitting venom at a host it loathes in something that's not sound or comprehensible language. His subconscious has just translated it into something it can understand - his greatest regret.

On if Borderlands Humans originated on Earth -

There's a really tenuous link between BL verse and rEarth, but it's there and can't be ignored. The cultures, accents, terminologies, so many are Earth specific despite these people being spread across galaxies, so hell yes - Earth as an emergence point makes total sense. The next question then, is why is it never mentioned - and you can cover for that with a lot of things like say, tt was so long ago that it's not relevant to anything that would ever be discussed, or it could be a mass evacuation from a catastrophe there is little record of now. I like to go with something along those lines, that the first human Siren host emergence on earth just absolutely decimated the planet. Like, we were doing fine till this random woman somewhere in the ass-end of nowhere develops weird markings overnight, then goes apocalyptic. The first Leech maybe, not understanding her powers and having them rip across continents in a spread of crackling electric death that only left husked shells of plants and animals in its wake, or the first Firehawk who went nuclear and burned the sky, or the first Voidgrasp who lost control and began to collapse the planet's core - some extreme shit that had humans fleeing en masse with barely any preparation and HUGE swathes of history and knowledge left behind. That would cover so many social things surviving into the BL verse, cultures, accents, cooking, that shit comes with us regardless of what we were able to throw into escape ships. Like so much data would be stored on any tech and data arrays within the vessels people would use to leave a dying planet even in an insane rush, but that shit waters down over time - if you're farming barely edible plants on some planet that smells like farts, are you really gonna be that stressed about teaching your kids history from a lost planet when your current concerns are not being eaten by something with 19 legs and 4 buttholes? Don't think so.

On if the other Siren entities are as influential to their hosts as The Leech -

I touch on it a wee bit throughout LL, but the others are FAR more passive and meld more to their host's whims. The Firehawk Siren wouldn't.. like.. care? If the host was burning down a planet or fighting off an evil corporation? They are removed from any nonsense happening on this side, they might not even really be able to tell, it's like asking an amoeba or a collection of sentient atomic particles what its opinion is on Brexit. That's not really its priority. The Leech is so aggressive in its control of the twins and desperation to drive them towards an outcome it desires only cause it's split, broken, removed from the song, and completely lost. We're talking a caged, half-mad animal removed from its natural environment and left totally isolated from its own kind for millennia. It's in pain, it's confused, it wants to find its way back to the song and the others and where it belongs, but it's stopped by a barrier it can't comprehend ( the twins and being ripped between them), so in its impotent rage it feeds back that hatred onto them. It's not really sentient in the way we would describe functional intelligence, but it wants, and craves, and FEELS. And it feels very, very angry.

Big thanks to @undergoingcalibrations for talking through so much of this with me!

Asks are Open!

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands 3 #bl3 #troy calypso #tyreen calypso #calypso twins #sirens #leech lord #my hcs #my writing

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watching-pictures-move · 4 years ago

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Put On Your Raincoats #17 | The Erotic Reveries of Rinse Dream

Cafe Flesh opens with a title card orienting us to its post-apocalyptic setting. After a calamitous apocalyptic event known as the "Nuclear Kiss", the world is made up of 99% "Sex Negatives", and 1% "Sex Positives". The Sex Negatives can't have sex and can only watch. The Sex Positives escaped such a fate, but are instead forced to perform for an audience of Positives for their vicarious enjoyment. There are many such venues but the one we spend the movie in is the Cafe Flesh of the title, a nightclub where the decor and patronage evoke a cross between punk rock and retro-futurist aesthetics and a hint of Rat Pack era cool. A smarmy comedian in a white tuxedo introduces the sex acts, which are elaborately staged performances that play almost as genre parody with their tongue-in-cheek choreography (plenty of costumed grinding, as with a performer in a rat costume early on, and mimed thrusting, as with another performer in a pencil costume in a later scene) until the turn into the real thing with the requisite close-ups. Futuristic jazz reminiscent of Angelo Badalamenti's music plays over the proceedings.

This serves as the background to a story about a woman who may or may not secretly be a Positive (played by scream queen Michelle Bauer and, in certain scenes, a body double) and the impending arrival of a legendary Positive performer known for his virility (a towering, square-jawed Kevin James, introduced in black sunglasses and an oversized blue suit). We also get a sense of the tensions in this nightclub ecosystem, particularly between the heroine and her boyfriend, a new performer, the comedian, the owner (who puts the comedian in his place in one scene by having him cruelly recite "the rhyme"). (The comedian is played by Andy Nichols and the owner by Tantala Ray, both of whom played interview subjects in Gregory Dark's Devil in Miss Jones two-parter, which leads me to believe the latter was influenced by this movie, as Nichols in particular doesn't have many screen credits.)

This movie apparently was a bit of a success in the midnight movie circuit, and it's not hard to see why, based on the strength of the mise en scene and the performances. The cool, smoky backgrounds of the reaction shots provide a nice counterpoint to the avant garde looking performances and give the highly stylized setting a nice evocative quality. There's also a level of genre commentary here, as the story ultimately is about the heroine's agency over her pleasure and the roles sex performers are forced into by greater society, ultimately imprisoned by their own abilities. Truth be told I found the performances got a little less enjoyable when they got down to business with the penetration and whatnot (it gets harder to pull off inspired choreography when one of your appendages is stuck in another person, or vice versa), but I also think it's necessary for those themes to resonate.

Cafe Flesh was directed by Stephen Sayadian, credited as Rinse Dream, and he'd previously used that pseudonym on Nightdreams, for which he co-wrote the screenplay. (The director was Francis Delia, who went on to a career of directing mostly music videos and television, while the other writer was Jerry Stahl, known for his memoir Permanent Midnight, as well as writing for shows such as ALF and movies such as Bad Boys II.) This movie similarly concerns agency over female pleasure and is about two doctors (Andy Nichols and Jennifer West) conducting experiments on a mentally ill young woman by inducing erotic dreams and monitoring her brainwaves. There's a dream involving a giant, monstrous jack-in-the-box. There's one with a pair of cowgirls and something other than a gun stored in a holster, with the cowgirls spouting stilted dialogues in robotic monotones, a Sayadian trademark of sorts. Wall of Voodoo's cover of "Ring of Fire" plays over the action (I'm not sure if they paid for the rights, but Delia and Sayadian did direct videos for the band). There's one with a group of bedouins sharing a hookah and then her. There's a giallo-esque scene involving a masked assailant, but this happens after an aborted nightmare about a shrieking man with a hollow chest from his pants emerges a shrivelled up, monstrous baby. Did David Lynch jack off to this? I wouldn't rule it out, folks.

There's a scene where she blows an anthropomorphic box of Cream of Wheat, while a jaunty cover of "Old Man River" plays on the soundtrack and a man dressed as giant piece of toast dances and plays saxopohone. An IMDb user review cites this scene for its cutting racial commentary, but I found this tonally jarring with the rest of the movie. After this, there's a trip to hell where a demon and his minions subject her to such horrific tortures as prodding her with a giant claw and then an even more fearsome double-pronged contraption. The scientists argue over fears that they gave her too much stimulation. ("This woman's on the brink of an orgasm. Let her enjoy it. She doesn't need interruption from a man." "You call it orgasm. I call it breakdown.") The movie then makes way to its final set piece, involving fog, a background of blue sky and pillars and soft piano music. The cinematography in this scene is in stark contrast to the mostly shadowy, intimate imagery of the previous scenes, with the camera pulled up to admire both their bodies and the scene continuing for some time after the climax. It almost brings to mind a certain scene in Jerry Lewis' The Ladies Man that I found disarming in its stylistic and tonal break from the rest of the movie. Without revealing too much, the film's coda sets the record straight.

It probably doesn't say anything flattering about me that I found most of this pretty hot. The movie has a tinge of horror running through it, giving many of the sex scenes (especially the one in hell) a real tension, while the scientific framing device gives it a cold, calculating quality reminiscent of David Cronenberg. (Alas, this doesn't predate some of his most influential films, but for all we know, David Cronenberg jacked off to it as well.) A few of the character names (Mrs. Van Houten, Mrs. Chalmers) make me suspect that Matt Groening might have seen (and jacked off to) it as well. This is pure speculation on my part, but as far as I'm aware, none of them have denied it either. The movie's distinct tone is grounded in an impressive lead performance by Dorothy LeMay. I wasn't all too impressed with her work in Taboo II, but here I think she skillfully evokes the heroine's derangement and "erotic trauma", in the words of the scientists.

Sayadian and Stahl collaborated again for Dr. Caligari, a relatively mainstream effort that also found some success as a midnight movie. I say "relatively" because it's still pretty fucking weird. The movie positions itself as a loose sequel to Robert Wiene's classic The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari, this time about the granddaughter of the original Caligari conducting illegal experiments in an insane asylum. From the earlier film it pulls a German expressionist influence, but combines it with a campy, MTV-inflected style to present the asylum as a warped funhouse. The dimensions of the architecture are distorted and full of odd angles, decorated in a mixture of pitch black and gaudy day-glo colours (lots of yellow and pink costumes). This is not a pornographic movie, yet it's hardly less obsessed with sex, as the villain's plan concerns the weaponization of female pleasure. There's also the occasional grotesque sexually-charged image to spice things up, like the sight of a woman with giant, phallic-shaped breasts. Some of the imagery also gives it potency as horror, like an oozing sore or a cake full of intestines. There's a lot of strange, stilted dialogue, as in this exchange:

"Describe your life in three words or less."

"Un-ending torment."

"Elaborate, please."

"Blankety blank blank."

"Thank you for being specific."

This is matched by the angular body language of the villain, played by Madeline Reynal in a deadpan yet very physical performance. This movie also brings into focus a voyeuristic theme, which was present in those earlier movies but didn't seem quite as confrontational in its presentation. A character utters, basically to the audience: "I know you're watching me. I feel your eyes like wet fingers touching me in special places." (This is a line of dialogue that appeared in the next few films I'll talk about.) Truth be told, I was a little exhausted by the sensory overload of Sayadian's style here, and in retrospect appreciate the way the sex scenes act as a counterpoint to his more aggressive tendencies in his more explicit films. But at the same time, this is full of memorable imagery and has a weirdly compelling lead performance. I don't know if there's much else quite like it (or at least operating at this force), so it gets a recommendation.

Sayadian followed up Nightdreams with a few shot-on-video sequels. I skipped Nightdreams 2 as I could only find it in a heavily degraded transfer, but I did make time for Nightdreams 3, which has a self contained story that's essentially a more explicit if relaxed version of Dr. Caligari, once again concerning a doctor conducting sinister experiments at an insane asylum. (This time her experiments mostly involve just fucking her patients and other staff.) There's more of the stilted dialogue, even closer to non sequiturs than they were in the earlier film, with the music by Double Vision providing an off-kilter soundscape to match the weirdness of the dialogue. (Highlights include "My pussy's like an erotic assassin" and "I happen to know she has a thing for longshoremen. Just mention On the Waterfront and she gets randy pants.") The video imagery quite frankly is pretty ugly, with the green carpet and purple drapes that decorate the set looking especially ungainly, yet Sayadian seems aware of this, as when he uses video's flattening effect to create a crude facsimile of a split diopter shot. The video collage style he adopts meshes uneasily with the plot, as if to call out its meaninglessness, giving the whole thing a slight MST3K vibe, especially as characters speak directly to the camera.

Some of these tendencies are honed to a more pleasing form in the two-part Party Doll A Go-Go!, where we spend time with a number of attractive, shapely women in bright coloured lingerie as they spout '60s-inspired dialogue at the viewer in between scenes of copulation. (Not all the dialogue is '60s-tinged, however: "They're overcome with retro wordplay...Us modern girls prefer synthetic future".) Like many pornographic films, this is a collection of loosely related sex scenes, but Sayadian's construction turns those genre requirements into parody, having his characters offer colour commentary (albeit channeled through his campy prose) on their own scenes and even getting interrupted by the stars of subsequent and preceding scenes. The number of quotable lines is even greater than those earlier films, and I admit I was scrambling to write down the choicest ones as there were so many. The best lines go to Jeanna Fine, who also has the huskiest voice and the most penetrating stare, so she was easily my favourite. I certainly was not unmoved when she insisted that she's "never run around buck naked and bubbling for man-winky" or "never wrapped[her] lips around a throbbing johnny". (She does not, however, deny having ever interacted with beef bologna.) Or when she asked the audience "Was I a bad girl?" (said three times in rapid succession) or if we've "ever seen a double orgasm on videotape?" (She adds "Watch, pornhound" and "Calling all porndogs, watch me work, uh-huh.") And I definitely wasn't unmoved when she demonstrated her talents on a dildo dangled in front of her (which she refers to as an "artificial man-thing", a "chubby rubber fella" and a "flying princeton"). No, definitely not unmoved.

There isn't much of plot here, except in the latter half when one of the girls can't stop "the wiggle" and needs to be rescued with an emergency injection of "boy jerky". Sayadian, once again bringing voyeuristic concerns into focus (the characters all talk to the camera), seems to be satirizing the very idea of porn having premises and certain their lazy execution. Even the production design is transparent in its chintz (the movie is shot entirely on the same set, with the bare minimum in alterations to the set dressing to make it look even slightly different), while the video images, which feature lots of Dutch angles, zooms and whip pans, match the campiness of the whole affair. This is probably a little long at a combined 2+ hours, but at the same time, it settles into a nice groove and is full of really attractive and reasonably charismatic actresses delivering amusing dialogue and indulging in "girl homo" (sometimes "big time girl homo") or getting "boy jerky". I don't have much interest in delving into '90s pornography and shot-on-video productions strain the dignity one can feel while trying to watch pornographic films as actual movies, but I'm not gonna pretend I didn't have a good time with this.

#film #put on your raincoats #movie review #rinse dream #stephen sayadian #francis delia #fx pope #cafe flesh #nightdreams #dr. caligari #nightdreams 3 #party doll a go-go!

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earthspirit10 · 5 years ago

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Ninjago Angst Week: Day Six - Sickness

@ninjago-angst-week klasdjfal;sjdfas AHHHH I’m sorry this is like, five days late, but I’ve been really busy and stressed and then research, but, uh, it’s here now? Hope it’s not too late :P

And well, this one isn’t as good as the others, in my opinion. (Well, I think it’s better than Day One, but for the others? Meh.) Writing someone sick (especially if I’ve never gotten that . . . particular disease before) is hard and I’m not even sure if I even got it all write. Also, Zane. Zane is hard to write too.

Trigger Warnings: Sickness (because that’s enough to be grossed out at), mention of death

---

As a nindroid, it wasn’t possible for Zane to get sick. He wasn’t a real lifeform like the others, nor was he prone to malfunctioning due to water or anything else a normal robot would suffer from. He was grateful for that, for even though he wasn’t physically human, he was human in his heart. It meant that he could take care of his siblings better without getting sick or injured himself.

When Jay had suddenly doubled over coughing, everyone had rushed toward his aid. Zane, of course, had helped whatever he could—he’d cooked warm meals for him, given him medicine, and made sure he was comfortable. (The others practically had to wrestle him into bed.)

It wasn’t unusual for Jay to be coughing these days due to a cough he’d developed, which wasn’t very uncommon or worrisome, but Zane was worried that the cold had progressed into something worse.

Zane opened the door to Jay’s room and poked his head through to check on his brother, who seemed to be curled up under layers and layers of blankets.

“Jay?”

Jay peeked out from under the blankets and blinked blearily, coughing a few times before giving Zane a reassuring smile. “Hey, tin can.”

Closing the door behind him, Zane entered the room and sat down on the bed next to Jay. He wasn’t afraid of catching whatever sickness his brother had, mainly because it was impossible. Still, he made a note to disinfect himself should he ever get close to any of his other siblings.

“How are you feeling?” he asked gently, remembering that Jay had sensitive hearing even without being sick.

“Bored,” Jay grumbled, huffing in indignation. “I mean, there’s nothing to do! I’m not even allowed to do anything! No video games, no tinkering, no—” His body suddenly shook as a coughing fit overtook him, and Zane watched anxiously as it dragged on. It seemed to take hours—though his internal clock told him it was only twelve seconds—before it passed, with Jay shivering and panting for breath.

Coughing. Fever. Chills. Immediately, Zane scanned the blue ninja’s body, his optical sensors switching into X-ray vision. It was difficult to do so with all the blankets surrounding Jay, not to mention that he was curled up.

“Jay,” Zane said softly, trying to keep his voice as even as he could. Jay blinked again, head tilting up in question. “Are you able to sit up?”

Jay nodded, though his expression still remained confused. Shifting around in his blankets, he sat up slowly, coughing weakly.

Now that his brother was sitting up, Zane was able to fully scan his chest, eyes narrowing. And as soon as he detected something, his metaphorical heart dropped, and he inhaled sharply, sensors switching back to normal vision.

No. That couldn’t— his brother couldn’t have—

“Zane, what— what is it?” Jay asked frantically, his voice edging on borderline panic. “What’s wrong?”

Zane swallowed, turning his head away. Now with this new knowledge, his advanced senses could clearly detect the wheezing whenever Jay breathed, the rapid pumping of his heart, the abnormal air flow in his lungs.

More worrying symptoms of— of—

“Zane, please, you’re really starting to worry me—”

Abruptly, he stood up, cutting off whatever Jay was going to say. Turning, Zane set his shoulder back, plastered on a smile, stopped his hands from shaking. He answered cheerfully, “Oh, nothing you should worry yourself about.”

Jay stared back. “Are you . . . sure?”

“Of course.” Zane nodded, already moving toward the doorway. “You should rest. Try not to exert yourself.” He said the last few sentences with more emphasis than he would normally put in.

“It’s not like there’s anything else I can do,” Jay sighed, but he flopped back onto the bed. Almost immediately, his body was wracked with coughs, but he waved aside Zane’s concern. “I’ll be fine, Zane,” he rasped. “Not goin’ anywhere. See?”

Zane eyed his brother for a few moments, then he exited the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as the door was closed, he laid his head on it, pressing his hands to his eyes.

Why was he overreacting with this information? It wasn’t like this was fatal, nor was it dangerous, so why was he acting like Jay had a life-threatening disease that could potentially take him away any moment? It wasn’t— it wasn’t like—

His back sliding down the door, Zane buried his head between his knees, tears springing to his eyes, tears that weren’t supposed to be there in the first place, and yet he was human enough to have them.

Sometimes, he wished that he didn’t have emotions, that he didn’t have to feel the pain, the guilt, the worry.

If Jay’s illness worsened, if fate decided to be cruel again, Jay might die. It was Zane’s fault for detecting it so late, for not scanning him the first time he’d shown signs of a cough a week ago. And that meant a higher risk for this sickness to become deadly.

And they had let him participate in training, in patrols, in crime scenes. Mainly because Zane had told them that it was okay, when it wasn’t okay. Not anymore.

What kind of brother was he?

Footsteps approached him, and Zane raised his head, blinking as his vision sharpened on Cole’s face.

“Zane?” the earth ninja’s voice was concerned. “What’s wrong?”

Zane inhaled. Exhaled. He shouldn’t lie to them. Shouldn’t give them the false sense of security he’d stupidly given to Jay.

“Jay has pneumonia.”

⸺

After that, everything basically descended into chaos and panic. Calls were made, antibiotics were bought, and new rules and patrols were assigned. Zane had to hold Kai back from bursting into Jay’s room and fussing over him, mainly because this type of pneumonia was contagious, partly because Kai looked incredibly mad and that wouldn’t do well for Jay’s mental health, which could also affect his physical health.

Eventually, Zane had to tell Jay of his condition, which he oddly took well. At least, considering how much the blue ninja would normally panic.

“It’ll just— it’ll just pass, right?” Jay asked hoarsely, though there was a hint of fear in his voice. “Nothing much to worry about?”

Zane could tell that the others were pressed against the door of the room, anxiously eavesdropping on the conversation.

He nodded. “If you get enough rest and medicine, and there are no complications, then you should be fine.” The word should echoed ominously, silently, and he knew that all of them knew that not everything went as it should go.

Jay breathed out a sigh, before he dissolved into a bout of harsh hacking. Immediately, the mood spiraled into worried buzzing, and the door creeped open the tiniest bit. Zane rubbed his brother’s back, anxiously waiting for it to pass.

“Jay—”

“‘m fine,” Jay murmured, voice raspy from all the coughing. He closed his eyes, snuggling closer to his blankets.

Zane eyed him for a few more moments, heart clenching at his brother’s pitiful form. Swallowing, he stood up and patted his shoulder. “You should rest,” he whispered. The lightning ninja didn’t reply, but the slow rise and fall of his chest indicated that he was already asleep.

Zane turned on X-ray vision for a brief moment, scanning for any other unusual activity, then on to infrared, before he switched back to normal human vision. Slowly standing up, he exited the room, closing the door softly behind him, and was immediately met with the anxious gazes of his other siblings.

“He’s fine, for now,” he told them, keeping his voice carefully even. “He’ll simply need more rest and medicine. His immune system will do the rest.”

They all relaxed, if only slightly, but Zane knew that they would never truly be at ease until Jay was completely healed. After all, they had a bad history with luck.

⸺

As the days passed, Jay only got sicker. Almost the entirety of the week was filled with him coughing, the tense atmosphere rising every time it worsened. Still, Zane knew better than to give him cough medicine, especially since coughing was meant to help with the pneumonia. He made sure to monitor his brother every hour, checking on his lungs, his heart, his blood pressure—basically everything. It hadn’t gotten bad to the point where Jay would need to be admitted into the hospital, but he was dangerously close.

Once, as Zane left Jay’s room, he nearly bumped into Cole, who always hovered near. He nodded silently at the earth ninja and was about to resume his day when he suddenly felt a hand grabbing his wrist, holding him back. Surprised, Zane glanced back, and he blinked in alarm at the barely noticeable tears in Cole’s eyes.

“I—” Cole swallowed, looking away, as if embarrassed. His hand let go of the ice ninja’s wrist. “Jay’s going to be fine, right?” His voice was small, but it was pleading, desperate, almost like he was afraid of Zane’s answer.

Zane closed his eyes for a brief moment, then opened them. “He will be alright,” he said quietly and firmly, but he couldn’t help the fear that surged in him as he heard Jay emit another cough from within the room.

“That’s what the doctors told me,” Cole whispered, squeezing his eyes shut, and Zane wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or himself.

After a while, Cole shook his head, his eyes reopening. “I— well, when I was little, my mom— she was really sick.”

Oh. Oh. Zane stared back at his brother, not sure if he liked where this was going.

“A-and the doctors said that she’d be okay, that she was going to survive, but—” His voice stuttered to a stop, and Cole made an odd noise that sounded like he was choking, and he turned away.

The silence stretched on, very painfully loud, with Jay coughing occasionally in the background. Zane continued staring at his brother, not sure what to do in this situation. He wasn’t used to seeing Cole like this—so vulnerable and open, and it made his mechanical heart clench.

But he knew loss. All of them do, all too well. And he knew how it felt to feel so hopeful, hopeful for the future, only for that hope to be shattered.

So Zane did what anyone would normally do. He hugged his brother, wrapping his arms around him. Cole stiffened in surprise, but eventually, he relaxed into the embrace, hugging the ice ninja back.

Patting Cole’s back a little awkwardly, Zane whispered, letting his emotions seep into his voice, “Jay will be fine.” A beat. “I promise.”

And it wasn’t an empty promise. Logically, Zane knew that pneumonia wasn’t deadly, especially since Jay had a really good immune system. But for the sake of his family, for the sake of Jay, Zane wasn’t going to let his brother die.

He’d die himself before that would happen.

#ninjago #ninjago-angst-week #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #i really hope i did this all right #is pneumonia even as bad as people make it out to be #because i was pretty surprised when i searched it up #tw sickness #tw mention of death #phoenix writes

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alarawriting · 5 years ago

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52 Project #21: A Visit to the Doctor

“Now. Why don’t you sit down and relax. You can have a drink if you want. Bottled water? Juice? Soda?”

The thin boy shook his head. “No,” he whispered.

“That’s fine. You can sit down wherever you like.” This was obviously not 100% accurate, as the therapist herself was sitting in one of the chairs, so Jason couldn’t have picked that seat if he’d wanted to.

“Look, aren’t I supposed to be lying on a couch or something? That’s the way I always read about it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a couch, but you can lay on the floor if you want to. This is a non-judging space, Jason. You can do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

“Well, I don’t want to! And what kind of a doctor are you if you’re offering kids soda and juice? Those things are really, really bad for you! They’ll ruin your teeth, make you fat, give you diabetes…”

“As I said, this is a non-judging space. Many children feel more comfortable with sweetened drinks, but it’s perfectly fine if you don’t want any. Nobody’s forcing you to do anything, Jason. I just want you to relax.”

“You’re forcing me to relax!”

“If you don’t want to relax, that’s fine, too. It just makes it somewhat harder to help you. You do want me to help you, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” he said reluctantly.

“Well, then. Please sit down wherever you like. You can call me Jan, okay, Jason?”

The boy sat on the least soft of the three armchairs in the room, on the edge, with his arms tightly folded and a sullen expression. “I wanna call you Dr. Michaels.”

“All right. That’s fine too.”

“Is there anything that wouldn’t be fine?” he exploded. “I killed my little sister and you think everything I do is great! Well, it’s not! You should be punishing me, not – not telling me everything I do is fine!”

“I’m not here to punish you, Jason. I’m just here to talk to you. Why don’t you tell me about your sister?”

“She was six years old,” Jason said, miserably.

“And you’re twelve, right? So you were her big brother.”

“Yeah.”

“Did you like her? Was she fun to play with?”

“No, she was the worst pest the world has ever seen. I don’t know. I was supposed to take care of her! I was supposed to protect her, not – not—” His chest heaved, his eyes glittered with unshed tears, but whatever sobs might have wanted to burst out, he held them in.

“Tell me about what happened.”

He took a deep breath. “I was in my room, reading…”

After a moment of silence, the therapist said, “Yes?”

“And she came in. I was trying to read, and she kept bugging me. Over and over. ‘Jason, Jason, I wanna tell you about my adventure. Let me tell you about my adventure.’ She was telling me this stupid story, about how she and her imaginary playmate did something stupid. I didn’t want her to bother me anymore, and I didn’t want to hear it. So…”

“And so?” Jan prompted.

“So I killed her.”

“Tell me about that. How did you kill her?”

“I was reading this book – I’m the best reader in the class, so the teacher let me take it out. It was pretty tough to read. It was science fiction, but it was saying that, uh, I’m trying to remember how they said it… reality isn’t really just, things happen. Like, a million things might happen, but it’s the observer effect that locks down what happened. So if someone can believe hard enough in something that isn’t true, they can make it real. See, there was this guy named Bishop Berkeley, and he said that everything exists because we think it does. So if we think it doesn’t exist, well, it doesn’t.”

“But many things happen to people that they didn’t expect to happen, and many things that people don’t think exist end up existing, so how did they resolve that?”

“In the story, they said that it’s not true for everyone. Some people are, um, anchor points. They, uh, they can focus their minds on something they imagine to be true until it actually becomes true. But it’s weird because you have to know the thing isn’t true in order to believe hard enough in it that it becomes true. If you just think it’s true all by itself, you can’t focus your belief hard enough to change reality. You have to know you’re trying to change reality. That’s why only some people can be anchor points, because you gotta believe in a thing and at the same time you have to know it’s not true.”

“That sounds quite paradoxical. How could you believe something is real when you know it’s not?”

“You gotta – you gotta be able to hold two thoughts in your head at the same time where you’re not really thinking one of them, but it’s the reason you’re thinking the other one. Like, you know the game about don’t think of a swordfish?”

“I don’t think I’ve heard that one.”

“It’s, sit in a corner for five minutes and don’t think of a swordfish. Except you can’t do it, or they say you can’t, because knowing that the reason you’re sitting in a corner is to not think of a swordfish makes you think of a swordfish. But I did it,” he said, almost proudly. “One time I went in the corner and I knew I was there to not think of a swordfish, so I thought of something else instead, and I got distracted by what I was thinking and I just got really into it, and then when I suddenly remembered about the swordfish, the clock said I’d been sitting there for like 20 minutes or something. So I knew, if I imagined something hard enough, I might be able to focus on it enough that I could forget about the fact that it wasn’t real.” A sob caught in his throat. “I didn’t think it would work! I didn’t mean to kill her!”

“Exactly how did she die?”

“Well, I just – I closed my eyes and I imagined life without my sister. I pretended that she died before she was born, and her room was Mom’s study, and there wasn’t any of her junk around the house, and – and I did it, I imagined it, really. I could see it exactly in my head. And then I got scared, because I knew, even before I opened my eyes, that she was gone.”

“Gone.” Jan wrote something down in her notebook.

“Yeah. Like she didn’t ever exist.”

“Why couldn’t you just imagine her to come back?”

“I tried, I tried! But I couldn’t focus anymore, I just kept thinking about the fact that I made her not exist, and I was so sad and scared, so I couldn’t get the fact that she was gone out of my head enough to imagine that she wasn’t gone. It said in the book that it’s harder to make something exist than not exist… You don’t even believe me!” The last was said in a burst of outrage.

“What makes you say that?” Jan asked, still calm and patient.

“You think I’m nuts! Everyone thinks I’m nuts. That’s why they took me to a shrink. Angie’s dead and I killed her and I’m the only one who knows she used to be alive!” As soon as the sobs started, they overwhelmed him, making him choke on his words and stutter. “It’s not fair, she was just a little kid, she didn’t deserve that, why can’t I bring her back, why can’t I bring her back—”

“Now just relax, Jason. I’m sure if you just—”

“Nobody believes me! I wish I was dead. C’mon! I don’t exist, I don’t—”

“Jason, nobody can make themselves believe they don’t exist.” There were, in fact, people with a mental illness that made them think they didn’t exist, but they had hardly made themselves believe that, consciously.

“I can’t even kill myself right!” he sobbed.

“So that’s why you took all those aspirin?”

“I was trying to die. Why did they have to save me? Why couldn’t they let me die? I killed Angie, I deserve it!”

“Now let’s go back a little bit. Was there anything you didn’t like about your family, before Angie – disappeared?”

“I don’t like you and I don’t wanna answer your questions. I know you think I’m nuts just like everyone else.”

“What makes you say that?”

Jason glared at Jan through tear-filled eyes. “What, are you a robot or something? You said that already. Are you even alive?”

“Do you think I’m not real?” the therapist asked.

“No, you’re just stupid. I’ll prove it to you. I’ll make that lamp over there go away.”

“The shiny one?”

“No, the glass one.”

“Oh, that’s a family heirloom, Jason. I’ve had it for years. Maybe you should do your trick with the shiny one.”

“You don’t believe me anyway, so why’s it matter to you?”

She sighed. “If it matters to you, Jason, that’s all that matters to me.” And if an emotionally disturbed child tried to smash the glass one to prove that it didn’t exist, that would be destructive and produce a mess, whereas if he tried to smash the brass lamp he’d only manage to destroy the bulb.

“I’m gonna do it with the glass one anyway,” he said, glaring at her. “Then you’ll believe me. If it’s a family heirloom and all.”

“I did say you could do whatever made you feel comfortable, but I’m not okay with you breaking my property.”

“I won’t break it. It’ll just stop existing,” Jason said, and closed his eyes.

The therapist got up and moved the breakable ceramic lamp out of the way just in case the boy jumped up and tried to smash it. But Jason just opened his eyes. “See?” he said. “it’s gone now!”

Looking at the ceramic lamp in her hand, the therapist said, “What’s gone now?”

“The glass lamp you used to have, right on that table!”

The therapist glanced at the table she’d just taken the ceramic lamp off of, and then at the ceramic lamp in her hand. “I’m sorry, Jason, I’ve never had a glass lamp there. This ceramic lamp was a gift from my grandmother. I’ve always had it in my office.”

Jason began to cry again.

#52 project #science fiction #horror #but low-key

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thanksjro · 5 years ago

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Spotlight: Hoist - This One’s About the Guy I Keep Mistaking for Hound.

It’s time to focus on the straight man. Not, like, straight as in hetero. Don’t get it twisted, Hoist is queer by default just like every Cybertronian in IDW, not that that’s been established in-canon just yet. No, Hoist is the straight man because he’s the grounding line in this issue.

Hoist, as established during Spotlight: Trailcutter, is off the Lost Light currently on a mission. At this exact moment, he’s running from something.

Well, it was nice knowing you, Hoist!

No, he manages to escape Tarn’s grasp by doing some sweet grappling hook drifting using his tow line, and books it for the crashed shuttle that all his fellow mission-goers are hiding out in. Missionaries, if you will. Looks like Swerve left right after Trailcutter hung up on him, so it’s probably for the best that he didn’t get that forcefield around his voice box. Can’t imagine it working at that long a range. Sunstreaker’s here, along with his pet, Bob. Sunstreaker’s feeling a little salty right now, probably because he’s supposed to be the handsome one, and instead he’s got some sort of face thing going on in this issue.

Yeah, nobody looks quite right in Spotlight: Hoist. Then again, maybe I just don’t get Cybertronian beauty standards.

On that note, let’s take a real quick look at our interior artist for this issue, Agustin Padilla. Padilla doesn’t have a ton of work within the Transformers franchise, but he’s worked on some iconic pieces- specifically, MTMTE #16, The Gloaming.

Yeah, THAT one. We’ll get more into his work when we hit that issue, I promise.

Back to the story at hand: Hoist puts on the cloaking device for the ship, hiding them from Tarn, then gripes to Swerve about the scanner scope being a huge friggin’ liar, because it said that there wasn’t a gotdang thing out there, because there clearly is. Swerve is less than thrilled by the prospect of having Tarn in the general vicinity, to the point that he forgets how to talk for a solid .5 seconds. Swerve’s seen the DJD in action, and it’s not pretty.

They’ve got six hours before the cloaking shields drain the power, then it’s goodbye Safetytown, hello Murderville. So, what better way to spend their final hours than by sniping at one another over things like fault and who’s gotten the shortest end of the stick here?

Looks like Perceptor has a pretty strong lead on all the other guys, seeing as his legs have become one with the ship. Hoist’s busy trying to get in touch with the Lost Light, though no one’s picking up. Gee, wonder why.

Swerve is really in a needling mood, as he asks Sunstreaker where his apology is, seeing as he was the one piloting the ship when they crashed. Sunstreaker blows a gasket for a second over the fact that all he seems to do these days is apologize. Hoist manages to calm the situation and change the topic pretty smoothly, as he fiddles around with the internals of the shuttle to try and get the Lost Light’s attention.

Good at multitasking, Hoist is.

We get the backstory on Bob, who Sunstreaker found after Metroplex woke up and decimated the local Insecticon population on Cybertron, almost certainly upsetting the balance of the ecosystem and traumatizing poor Bob. Yes, even our dog stand-ins have trauma in MTMTE. Sunstreaker, in true pet-owner fashion, baby-talks Bob, saying that he’ll bite that big, nasty Tarn if he gets near them, won’t he? Oh yes he will! Yes he will! What a good boy, yes you are!

Swerve isn’t so optimistic.

Well, that’s certainly a sentence I just read with my own two eyes. Really hoping this is a bit of hyperbole, because I’d hate to think just what sort of life Swerve’s led that resulted in him watching a guy triple his size give himself an enema.

Sunstreaker, who knows that Swerve is kind of a massive baby, isn’t terribly impressed with how scared the DJD made Swerve, accidentally strokes the guy’s ego for a moment.

Swerve, completely on the defensive now, lists off the five things he’s afraid of. Hoist butts in to point out the implausibility of Swerve’s fears.

Smash cut to four hours later, and Swerve hasn’t slowed down a bit, having talked to the point that he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it anymore. Sunstreaker’s about had it with this marathon bashing he’s receiving, and suggests that Swerve pick on Hoist for a change. Swerve declines, saying that there just isn’t enough material to work with, because Hoist is boring.

Fun fact, this is his character quote for his introductory paragraph on the Wiki article. He had so little characterization up to this point, this is what they went with. Such is the fate of many of the Transformers who didn’t enter the original 80s cartoon until the second season. Roberts decided to run with it and take the rare opportunity to NOT give someone mental illness so severe and unchecked it’s simultaneously sad and hilarious. Hoist is probably the only dude in the entirety of the IDW run to just be a regular person.

After Swerve confirms that he does in fact know his colors, we blow past another hour, to find Hoist hard at work cutting Perceptor off of the ceiling/floor- Hoist, like most everyone on the Lost Light, is a doctor- as Sunstreaker and Swerve discuss previous scrapes they’ve gotten through. Apparently Sunstreaker fell off a bridge forever ago that was named after a biblical reference, because it doesn’t matter how little you believe in a higher power, you CANNOT escape the pull of the 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜.

Swerve asks Hoist if he has anything to contribute to the discussion, and while Hoist does have experience in near-death situations, he’d really rather not talk about it. Swerve respects his privacy.

Well, he tries.

Hoist indulges our little red and white idiot, because it’ll get everyone the Swerve-equivalent of peace and quiet, and begins his tale.

Long story short, it looks like another hotshot pilot had the same idea as Hoist’s, and things got a little crashy-explodey-everyone’s-deady. Hoist was the only survivor, and had to walk his sorry butt back to civilization. Then the exhaustion set in, and he was forced to sit there, fully convinced that he would die alone in the middle of nowhere.

Once he’s finished with his story, Hoist makes the horrific discovery that Swerve’s been bleeding to death over the last five hours, and failed to mention it.

No, Sunstreaker, he’s honestly just like that all the time.

Swerve’s spark casing has ruptured, which I can only imagine is somewhat similar to having a hole poked in your heart. A problem, to put it lightly. Sunstreaker and Hoist decide that, to keep Swerve from biting it, they’ll take the fight to the DJD, in an attempt to get some sort of transport back to the Lost Light and all the tasty medical equipment on board.

Man, it really is unfortunate that Rung’s still not got a head at this point in the timeline, because Swerve is like a jelly donut filled with self-loathing. God just took a jumbo-sized bakery syringe and jammed it right in there.

Hoist and Sunstreaker ignore Swerve’s protests/pained screaming, and gear up for a fight with what they can find. Hoist manages to make two working crossbows and a butt-ton of arrows, not to mention a couple bowie knives in about five minutes, and they head out to kick some tushie.

The lads split up, keeping in touch via communicators, and Sunstreaker manages to get found by Tarn. He gets his ass kicked, because of course he does- the DJD aren’t famous for their macramé and pies, they’re famous for super-murder and being horny for the Decepticause. As Sunstreaker has the realization that he’s leaving his beloved Bob behind, Hoist finds him. Sunstreaker’s in quite the pickle, because he’s had his chest blown in, and Tarn’s been replaced by Shockwave, Megatron, Sixshot, and Overlord.

This just gets better and better doesn’t it?

Then this happens:

Welp.

Swerve’s theory may hold some water, but we can’t worry about that right now, because Hoist is going to try and fight this bastard. Good luck with that, Hoist.

Yeah, that went about as well as it could have.

Hoist is about to get stomped like a bug, when the Con-biner suddenly phases out of existence. Weird.

Hoist runs back to the shuttle, I guess just leaving Sunstreaker in the middle of that clearing, even though he literally is a tow truck. He returns to find that Swerve’s passed out from blood loss, but Perceptor’s still awake, which is good, because there’s some grade-A bullshit going on on this planet, and we need the smart guy to info-dump for the sake of the plot.

Man, this is such a cool plot device, and I’m so mad it never comes up again after this Spotlight.

So, Tarn and all the big bads that Hoist ran into weren’t real, but projections of his and his team’s worst fears. It was feeding off of Swerve, but now that he’s down for the count, it’ll probably go for either Hoist or Perceptor next.

Then there’s what feels like an earthquake, one so powerful it finally removes Perceptor from the ceiling, letting what’s left of his body fall. Hoist runs outside to see just what the hell’s happening now, only to find Metroplex outside and closing in.

The phobia shields work on sub-sentient creatures too? Good lord, this thing just never stops, does it?

Thinking quickly, Hoist scoops up Swerve and the upper half of Perceptor and bolts for the edge of the cliff their ship is sitting next to. He must have been training for the Robot Olympics or something, because he makes the leap by a large margin, even when weighed down by two limp bodies.

Then he punches Perceptor in the face, knocking him out cold.

Then he commits an act of animal abuse as he knocks Bob out with his tow hook.

Our hero, folks! Let’s give him a hand!

As Metroplex fades out of existence, Hoist remembers that he is not immune to trauma, as he’s forced to sit there, completely alone, until help arrives.

No wonder he got that massive Rodimus Star. What a trooper.

Thus ends Spotlight: Hoist, as well as the Spotlight series as a whole.

So, Swerve may not have much of a read on Hoist, but I figure I can try and take a stab at it. Hoist is… helpful. The entire issue, he’s the one who never stops doing things. If he’s not trying to repair the shuttle, he’s cutting Perceptor out of the floor, or he’s patrolling the perimeter, or trying to defuse the tension between his crewmates, or building weaponry, or punching people in the face for the greater good.

The folks he’s surrounded with for his Spotlight accent the characteristics he lacks- he’s not insanely smart like Perceptor, or strikingly handsome like Sunstreaker is intended to be, or capable of holding a conversation like Swerve. He blends into the background, always has and always will, both within canon and as a character.

He’s just a guy. He’s the guy, a jack of all trades, master of none. And that’s okay.

#transformers #jro #mtmte #spotlight #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post #comic script writing #overthinking about robots

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wangxiangiftexchange · 5 years ago

Text

Winter Solstice Gift for grannyweatherwaxshat

To my gift recipient: I hope that this is what you were looking for. I went along with the "Hurt/Comfort with a Happy Ending, Healing, Soulmate, and Mental Illness" suggestions all in one. I wasn't intending for this gift to get so long, but here I am with yet another multi-chapter hahaha. I hope you enjoy it!

Read on AO3

*****

The Springs of Life

"Welcome to the Springs of Life, a healing center for the soul. Please feel free to take a pamphlet on our activity offerings, and may your healing be swift and kind."

A pale blue pamphlet with a printed cloud motif was set into Wei Ying's hands. It felt glossy under his fingertips. It crinkled slightly under the pressure of his thumb and forefinger. Just as it began to crinkle, he had the sudden urge to smooth it out again. He pulled his hand slowly across the pamphlet, giving his best attempt at pulling it flat again. No matter how hard he tried, however, it wouldn't return to its original state.

He pursed his lips, choosing instead to pull his focus from his hands to the waiting room he stood in.

The whiteness of the room was probably intended to be neutral and soothing, but to Wei Ying it was a blindingly bright reminder of everything that was wrong with him. The soft blues of the furniture did little to offset it. There was soft music playing in the background, the kind that they typically played at spas to relax the customers. But Wei Ying wasn't a customer, he was a patient; and this wasn't a spa, it was an inpatient facility.

There were others in the lobby, but they blurred together without recognition. Families. Loved ones. People there to support the other patients' journeys to healing. It was uncomfortable. Wei Ying's lungs suddenly felt a bit too heavy. He swallowed audibly, turning back to face his sister who had been checking him in at the front desk all the while. "I... I don't really need to be here. It's for broken souls. Mine's fine. I'm fine. Everything is good. All I need is my job, my life, my family... I don't need... whatever this is."

Wei Ying's hand slightly shook. He hid it behind his back, desperately hoping that no one saw.

Jiang Cheng turned from where he was filling out paperwork to roll his eyes. "It's good for you, idiot. Just... go heal or whatever. Your life will be there when you come back."

"He's right. You need to go and heal yourself from the inside out. Then you can come back and be the happy whole A-Ying you used to be." Jiang Yanli said softly, worry evident in her kind gaze.

Guilt bubbled in Wei Ying's gut. He was fine. Really. He didn't need the white rooms and soothing music and soft blue furniture. His soul would be fine. Sure, thing's had gotten bad. But he always stepped up before, who was to say he wouldn't do so now? Still... he didn't want to worry his sister any more than he already was. He'd made a mistake. He should have powered through it all instead of moping in his apartment without leaving for three weeks straight. He shouldn't have let his family know how bad he was getting. He could handle it. Really. Most days, at least...

"Just take the help." Jin Zixuan said, scrunching up his nose. "This is the best soul-healing center in the country. Think of it as a paid-for vacation and come back after you're good and healed."

A mandatory vacation. Thought Wei Ying. He shot a look at his brother-in-law, but nodded in agreement all the same.

It's not like he wanted this. It's not like he wanted any of this to happen, for anything to lead to him standing where he was at that moment. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and clenching his jaw just to feel the discomfort of it. It distracted him from the discomfort in his brain.

Jiang Yanli hugged Wei Ying. "Take good care of yourself in here. I'll miss you lots and lots the whole time. And then I'll cook you a big dinner when you get out. Okay?"

It wasn't okay. He didn't need to be there. He didn't want to be there. He was going to be left alone with a bunch of broken souls and have to force himself through class after class that attempted to soothe him, but only made him all the more unsettled. There was no fixing Wei Ying. Whatever he was, it was there to stay. Taking him into the facility was like signing away the last of his freedom. He truly doubted that he'd ever leave again.

"Okay." He found himself agreeing robotically. Funny, the things he'd agree to when his sister asked.

What could he do? They were the ones that broke down his door, that pulled him out of the burrito of covers on his bed, that forced him to shower for the first time in weeks. They were the ones that force-fed him, clothed him, led him to the car and away from everything Wei Ying had ever known. What could he do if his family no longer wanted to put up with him, with his shortcomings, and would prefer to send him off to some old facility to become someone else's problem?

A man in white scrubs opened the door from the lobby to the inpatient facility with a soft scrape across the floor and a soft thud as it his the door-stop. The soft sounds reverberated across the forefront of Wei Ying's mind. Everything else became white noise. Whatever his family was saying, whatever music was playing, whatever noise the other families seemed to be making, all of it became a low rumble. He heard the squeak of the door hinges, the swallow of his own throat, the tapping of someone's fingernails upon the front desk counter.

The man in white scrubs called out Wei Ying's name. He barely recognized the sound.

They made their goodbyes. Jiang Yanli cried some more and held him close. Jiang Cheng hugged him briefly. Jin Zixuan offered him a supportive nod of the head. And then Wei Ying was escorted through the big white doors that led to the inpatient part of the facility. And his family? They were gone.

This is a good thing. Wei Ying repeatedly told himself no matter how much he disbelieved it. He repeated the phrase over and over again like a mantra as he followed the man in white scrubs down the hallway. By the time he reached the end, he still didn't believe it.

Intake was a bit invasive. While they didn't do anything as untoward as a cavity search, they drew blood and took vitals and asked incredibly personal questions. They all seemed to blur together into a single block of mushed up dialogue in his memory, difficult to pick anything individual out. The female nurse in white scrubs scribbled notes on a clipboard as she asked her typical questions. They came out of her automatically, in a rote sort of way that only came from extended repeated use.

"Do you have any known triggers that could have caused the soul break?" She asked.

"No." Wei Ying responded automatically. There was nothing. Nothing was bad. Nothing was wrong. It was just the same old situations Wei Ying always found himself in. It was Wei Ying himself that was wrong.

"Any mental illnesses?" She checked another box in the sheet.

"How is that relevant?" He asked a bit more defensively than intended.

"Mental illness, when run unchecked, can cause distress to the soul." She explained. "Sometimes, if it gets bad enough, it can lead to a soul break. It is very common, especially in your age demographic."

"..."

Wei Ying didn't want to say it. Saying it made it real. Saying it was like admitting to weakness, like he needed all of this crazy expensive soul help. Which he didn't. He was fine. There was nothing off about him that wasn't off already. Nothing new happened. It was just Wei Ying. It was who he was as a person. There was nothing a bit of soul classes was going to do to change that.

"We can request medical records from the psychiatrist your guardians listed on your intake forms, but it would be easier for everyone involved if you just tell us outright. Not knowing how your brain chemistry will react to any sort of treatment can hinder your progress and leave you staying with us longer than necessary." The nurse said.

"..." Wei Ying released a heavy sigh, not even bothering to plaster on his typical sunny smile. These people evidently wouldn't be fooled, and he hardly had the energy for it anyhow. "The B word is scary, I know I know. But I'm really fine. I've got it under control. It's not... I'm fine. I'm good."

"The B word?" The nurse raised an eyebrow.

"... Bipolar disorder. Type II." He muttered under his breath.

The intake nurse nodded. "Any co-morbidities?"

Wei Ying pursed his lips. "Anxiety. ADHD. Insomnia. You know, the whole buy one mental illness get three free deal. But really. It's fine. I've been dealing with this for years. It's nothing I can't handle."

"It's not about how much you can handle. You are very strong for getting this far, and very brave for making the steps to see us today. It is not easy to accept that a soul has been broken, but getting to the point of admitting the problem and seeking treatment is already the first step to recovery."

Wei Ying made a face, but said nothing. The nurse continued.

"Do you have a soulmate?"

"No."

Ah, soulmates. Those uncommon-but-not-unheard-of special other halves that match your own very soul. It was one of those things that everyone knew someone who knew someone that had one, but most people never had direct exposure to one. Which honestly, was probably for the best. While a soul break would not necessarily cause damage to the other half of your soulmate pair, if both souls broke at the same time it could cause what was known as a "Complete Soul Split." It was the most dangerous form of soul-breaking. Not only could it cause permanent damage to the souls themselves when left unchecked, like the lesser individual or "partial" soul breaks, it could also cause damage to the delicate soul bond between the pair of soulmates. In worst cases, bond-severing and even death.

But that wasn't a concern for Wei Ying. He didn't have a soulmate, for one. And even if he somehow had one, which he didn't, he'd have to be unlucky enough to have broken his soul at the same time as Wei Ying. Which was... incredibly statistically unlikely. Soul breaks happened, but even they weren't that common of occurrences. The odds would have to have completely been stacked against him, and even he wasn't that unlucky.

Besides, he didn't have to worry. He was fine. Really.

"Okay then, everything seems to be in order. The door behind me leads to the common area. Feel free to get to know the other guests at your own comfort level. We will be serving dinner at six."

Wei Ying rose and left the nurse behind, but he chose not to interact with the other "guests." There were several people crowded around a table playing cards, another group quietly taking markers to coloring sheets, and a third circled around a quiet subtitled television. Everything in the room was the same color schemes as all the rooms before it, white in walls and pale blue in furniture. It did little to settle Wei Ying's unease. He watched a clock on the wall, eying the minute hand as it moved ever-so-slightly with each passing second. He found the rhythm oddly calming, as if it were the one thing left of the outside world that could keep him from drifting away into the cloud-like rooms of the inpatient facility.

Despite typically being an outgoing person, Wei Ying couldn't find it in himself to put on his happy facade. He wished to be alone, to hide away from the world as he once did in his apartment. He couldn't do that yet, however. He hadn't received his room assignment yet.

He found himself drawn to the empty pale-blue living chairs in the back corner of the room. It was slightly darker there, as if the light couldn't fully reach it. Wei Ying immediately liked that about it. There was a man sitting in one of the chairs, reading a novel in utter silence. He liked that too. The man sitting in there was calm, quiet, peaceful. He simply sat in a perfect upright position and turned the pages of his book every-so-often. Wei Ying found his place at the man's side, leaving a chair's space between them out of courtesy.

Wei Ying may have been known to be bold and tactile, but he found that that part in him had diminished along with his soul. He pulled his knees in to his chest, closing his eyes and resting his head upon his knees. Time passed between them. Wei Ying found that he felt comfort in the man's presence. The man was grounding, a constant that neither moved nor spoke, a hand to grip Wei Ying before he floated away.

They remained like that as time continued to move around them, stuck in their own bubbles of comfort. Eventually, the intake nurse in white scrubs found Wei Ying and pulled him back into her office. As he stood to leave, however, the man with the book looked up at him. They caught each other's gaze for a moment, something slight sparking in the abyss of their eyes. He was beautiful, that comforting man. His clothing matched the rest of the facility in color palette, but was distinctly stylish. A soft flowing somewhat-sheer blouse in light blue sat over a white tank and white jeans. Had they been permitted to wear shoes, Wei Ying imagined that he would probably have chosen white for them as well. His look was completed with a pale blue ribbon tying up the top half his shoulder-length black hair.

A tap on his shoulder pulled Wei Ying's gaze from the man in blue. He offered the man a soft smile that didn't reach his eyes. The man returned the favor with an expressionless nod of his head. He followed the nurse back into her office, taking a seat as he stared at yet more white walls.

Cleaning this place must have been a bitch.

"Mr. Wei," The nurse interrupted his straying thoughts. "The results of your physical examination indicated something irregular. We ran the blood test as a precaution to rule out anything unusual, but it unfortunately confirmed what we initially suspected. We are happy to inform you that you do, in fact, have a soulmate. Regrettably, you and your soulmate have both experienced circumstances dire enough to cause a Complete Soul Split."

Wei Ying blinked. What? A soulmate? Him? How could he, out of all of the people in the entire world, get the unluckiest draw? Wasn't it enough that his soul was already broken? Did life truly have to gift him a soulmate only to have them ripped from him before they could even meet?

Well, what did he expect, really? This was Wei Ying. Literal human disaster. False genius. Faker of ingenuity. Speaker of tall tales. Of course he couldn’t have simply just not had a soulmate. Of course life had to tear him down just that much further.

Wei Ying suddenly felt very small and very empty. Very small and empty indeed.

"Your treatment period will need to be lengthened to accommodate your new diagnosis, but not to worry. You won't be alone. We have another guest that will be attending the specialized classes for Complete Soul Splits along with you. Ideally, you would go through the classes along with your soulmate so that you can heal together to avoid re-splitting. Is there anyone you can think of, anyone at all that could potentially be your soulmate? Anyone that you felt even a slight pull towards even if you met them in passing? Having the pair of you heal together can speed up the process and help mitigate some of the potentially permanent effects."

Wei Ying shook his head. There was no one. He was as alone as always. Just Wei Ying stuck in a head full of swirling, racing, stampeding thoughts.

☀︎

Dinner was an uneventful affair. The food was about as exciting as the decor, and Wei Ying pushed it around on his plate for the majority of the lunch hour rather than actually eating. He searched for the pretty man from before, the one that he'd shared that oddly intimate gaze with. The man was nowhere to be found, however, and Wei Ying had little energy to try and join in the conversations at the pristine white tables surrounding him.

He knew it wasn’t like himself to be withdrawn. He was social, enigmatic, friendly, and exciting. He lived for conversation and never shut up and genuinely enjoyed being around people. Typically, at least. When he wasn’t holed away in his apartment during a bad depressive cycle.

Perhaps his Complete Soul Split had done more of a number on him than he initially expected. Could a soul break... really change the core of a human to that extent? To make them a shell of their former self? Or perhaps it was his former self that was the shell, and this empty mess of a person was who he truly was all along. It was a disheartening thought.

Wei Ying followed slowly behind the crowd of broken souls as they exited the dining hall, making his way back to the chairs he’d first sat in after his arrival. The pretty man was nowhere to be found, but he found himself seeking the comfort of the chairs nonetheless. It was easier to stick to himself, far from the crowds. He was safe there in his loneliness, blessed to be free from the obligation of pretending to be anything but the broken human he knew himself to truly be.

He spaced out for a while, following trails of thoughts that tumbled about and went nowhere and everywhere at the same time. He detachedly observed the tables at which people were playing cards and games. It looked fun in a distant sort of way, as if it was fun in concept but couldn’t exactly be applied to him personally.

Eventually, after an indeterminate amount of time had passed, the patients were gathered for a group therapy class. It was set in a moderately-sized room with couches and chairs lining the walls to create a sort-of circle for the patients to sit in. Wei Ying immediately sought out a chair in a corner that was pushed slightly further back than the neighboring couch and chair.

Once the patients had finished filtering in, Wei Ying finally caught sight of a familiar face. The man in white and blue silently took a seat across the room from Wei Ying, giving Wei Ying a small nod of the head before turning his attention to his hands in his lap.

Though no emotion crossed his blank face, Wei Ying couldn’t help but to feel somewhat comforted by the simple gesture. It was nice having an ally in this cloud-like atmosphere. It was... grounding, in a minute way. Just as it had been earlier that day. As if the man’s very presence gently grasped Wei Ying’s sleeve and pulled his drifting head from the endless ethers and back into reality.

The class began with the instructor introducing himself as Xie Lian, a licensed therapist with a specialization in soul healing and (more importantly) a survivor of a Complete Soul Split. There were a few gasps amongst the crowd, the newer patients evidently not having had worked with Xie Lian yet.

The man in the sheer light blue blouse didn’t bother looking up from where his gaze lay upon his hands. His blank expression seemed somewhat somber despite its indifferent appearance, and a small part of Wei Ying longed to reach out a hand to gently touch the man’s face in a show of comfort. That part was, fortunately, reigned in by the physical distance and societal convention separating them.

“We have a lot of new faces with us today.” Xie Lian smiled. “Well, let me welcome you to the Springs of Life. We’re all here for a common goal, right? We all came here from different places in our lives to try and heal ourselves. Healing is such a powerful act, and together I hope we can find the strength in each other to help lift ourselves up.”

A few faces nodded in agreement. Wei Ying remained as he was. He highly doubted any amount of happy words and supportive surroundings would be able to bring him back from a Complete Soul Split. His own sister couldn’t manage to do it so far, and she was the living embodiment of positivity and support.

No, Wei Ying was certain. Certain that he would never truly be able to recover.

Xie Lian handed each patient a blank sheet of paper and a brightly-colored marker. "Today," He began. "We will be compiling a list. You may list as many or as few things as you like. Today's topic will be 'Obstacles.' I would like each and every one of you to jot down a few of the obstacles impeding your life from getting to where you want it to be. What is getting in the way of your healing? Of your progress? Of your goals? What obstacles have led you to this very room?"

Wei Ying popped the cap off of his blue marker, but somehow couldn't manage to touch the ink to the paper. He glanced around the room, eyeing where the other patients were obediently scribbling away. His gaze returned yet again to the pretty man in the pale blue blouse. The man popped the cap off of his red marker, expressionlessly wrote down a single word upon his piece of paper, and then closed the cap once again. Wei Ying returned his attention to his own paper. He sighed deeply and began to write.

1. My brain

It was his sick brain, after all, that had gotten him into this mess. If he only could've held it together, or if he hadn't had to bother with mental illness in the first place, his soul most certainly wouldn't have broken. His life was fine. Everything else was fine. It was just Wei Ying that wasn't.

2. My soulmate

This issue was, in part, due to his soulmate as well. The pair of them created a

Complete Soul Split

together, which most likely is what incapacitated Wei Ying in the first place. So it made sense, then, that his soulmate was partially to blame. Deep down he knew that such projections were childish. It was not as if his soulmate chose to break his soul, just as Wei Ying did not choose to break his. But a far more childish and petty part of Wei Ying's mind enjoyed having someone else to blame. To resent. To feel bitterness towards. Even so, Wei Ying found that writing those two words did not bring him any comfort.

3. My-

He hesitated. There were a million things he could put in that place, but ultimately only one held truth. He scratched through the first three points on his list and instead started anew. He wrote upon the page only one single thing:

Myself

For ultimately, it did not matter that his brain was sick or that his soulmate caused him potentially irreparable damage. It did not matter his relationships with his family and friends, nor did it matter his place of residence. It did not even matter whether or not he enjoyed his job. And... he did. Sort of. Most days. He enjoyed the flexibility of freelance work. He loved creating new designs, even if they had to be constrained to the requests of his clients. He took great pleasure in lording the fact that he didn't have to go into an actual office over his brother's head.

But none of that mattered. Wei Ying's greatest obstacle, as always, was ultimately himself.

Eventually, the caps of the markers closed and Xie Lian stood with a soft smile upon his face. "Good, good. I'm glad to see everyone feeling so participatory this evening. Now anyone who would like to is free to share some of what they put upon their list. Some people may feel the need to protect their privacy, and that is also okay! But for those of you that feel like sharing, we can go around the room counter-clockwise. I will begin with one from my own list."

Xie Lian took in a deep breath and continued. "A large obstacle in my life right now is conflict between those closest to me. It makes me feel obligated to step in and fix things, but that is not always the healthiest or most needed step of action."

The patients nodded in understanding. Then the person to Xie Lian's right declined. A few patients here and there began to share things from their own lists: poor communication, a dead-end job, an unfaithful spouse, etc. Wei Ying had begun to tune them all out when he found himself being asked to share. He stared upon the single word on his own list, looked back up at Xie Lian, and shook his head. The moment passed, and other patients began to share their own obstacles as well.

The attention made its way around the circle, eventually reaching the man in the light blue blouse that had yet to look up from the paper in his hands since he first wrote it.

"Mr. Lan?" Xie Lian asked. "Would you like to share any of what you've written with us?"

The man in the light blue blouse, Mr. Lan, slowly looked up from his piece of paper. His eyes met Wei Ying's for a single electrifying moment before he turned to look at Xie Lian. He then turned his piece of paper around for all to see.

Wei Ying couldn't help but to gasp. He'd thought the man attractive, surely. And electric. Magnetic, even, one could say. But he was also cold and distant, untouchable in an indescribably distant way. Yet, somehow, this man that appeared to float amongst the very clouds that formed the motif running about the Springs of Life had come to the very same conclusion that Wei Ying had.

Mr. Lan had written a single word in large red strokes:

Myself

Wei Ying studied the man's blank face, searching for any sort of explanation as to why he'd answered the same. When the man offered none, Wei Ying flipped over his own sheet of paper. The man's eyes widened and his jaw dropped ever-so-slightly, creating a small 'o' between his lips. They shared an electric gaze fueled with curiosity. They remained locked in their shared silence for several moments before Xie Lian cleared his throat and re-diverted the attention back to the class at hand.

"Thank you, thank you. Anything either of you would like to elaborate on that tonight before we move on?"

Both Wei Ying and Mr. Lan shook their heads. Xie Lian gave the last few patients a few moments to speak before the attention finally circled back to him. "Good, good. Now then, next I would like each and every one of you to take the paper within your hands. Now imagine that this paper holds the very obstacles you listed. Good. Envision it. Feel it. Believe it. Now take the paper and tear it to your heart's content. Don't hold back. Really let those obstacles have it!"

The sounds of ripping and shredding sounded throughout the room as everyone appeared to rather enthusiastically fight their problems. Wei Ying's eyes met Mr. Lan's. There was almost a... twinkle of amusement in his tired eyes. It certainly was odd to ask the pair of them to tear up representations of themselves, but in a way Wei Ying supposed that might have been exactly what he wanted. He ripped the paper. Tore it. Decimated it to smaller and smaller bits. It certainly was cathartic, even if the metaphor was probably not what Xie Lian intended. Mr. Lan ripped his own as well, albeit in a much more calm and organized fashion. Wei Ying found his own amusement in the action.

After all of the obstacles had been good and obliterated, Xie Lian began to hand out a second sheet of paper.

"Now then," He began. "Let's start the next bit by writing down how we can see our lives with our obstacles no longer holding us back. Really dig dip and envision it. I want everyone to really put in the effort to visualize it."

Wei Ying looked upon his blank sheet of paper. What would his life be like if he didn't get in his own way? What would he see? What would he feel? What would he be?

Wei Ying decided that he had no answer to any of those questions. He left the page blank, setting it to the side and bringing his knees into his chest. He spent the rest of the time observing Mr. Lan, who sat long and hard staring at his paper with the slightest furrow in his brow. He noticed that Mr. Lan wrote nothing either.

"All right, all right. Now then, I'll start the sharing and this time we'll go clockwise." Xie Lian instructed. "I envision that when my obstacles are overcome that I will find a more peaceful environment where I can have more group gatherings."

A handful of patients either skipped or shared, then made their way to Mr. Lan. Mr. Lan glanced between his blank sheet of paper, Wei Ying, and Xie Lian. Xie Lian smiled encouragingly. Mr. Lan eventually shook his head, choosing instead to skip his share. Wei Ying didn't miss the slight look of disappointment that crossed Xie Lian's face before he returned once again to his perfectly sunny disposition.

The remainder of the class skipped and shared, but Wei Ying tuned out the noise. His focus was drawn to the white of the walls, the fabric of the chair beneath him, and the silent rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Wei Ying wasn't sure if or when he was addressed, only returning his focus to the moment at hand when everyone began to stand and filter out of the room. Mr. Lan looked ready to bolt immediately, but Xie Lian called him back to stay behind.

Wei Ying slowly rose to his feet, knowing it was rude to eavesdrop and yet wanting so very badly to know any sort of detail about Mr. Lan. He made his way out as slowly as possible, picking up bits and pieces of dialogue as he made his way out.

"I'm very proud of you sharing today."

"You've gone so long without speaking up that I was worried about the lasting damage to your soul."

"You've made good progress, but you have to be willing to keep going, okay?"

"Your brother sends his regards. Your uncle, too."

The door closed being Wei Ying with a click. Suddenly he was back once again in the main gathering area with all of the other patients. They had resumed their card games and coloring pages, eager to discuss all sorts of unimportant bits of chatter. The sort of useless chatter Wei Ying once loved to partake in.

He sat once again in the chairs in the corner, bringing his knees into his chest and resting his head upon them. This was his life now. This was where he would remain until the facility finally realized that Wei Ying would be an incurable case. Until, perhaps, he even died of Complete Soul Split. He didn't want death, not really. It's just that he didn't much care for life. Not as it was, so empty and banal and draining. Not with the heights of pain and depths of despair. Not when he, and likely his soulmate as well, were broken beyond repair.

Wei Ying closed his eyes, listening for the gentle tick-tock of the clock on the wall opposite him. He could hardly pick out the sound over the noise, but once he managed to isolate it he focused on it and drowned himself in its rhythm.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

The white walls and pale blue furniture that decorated Wei Ying's new life fell away. The sounds of the world around him ceased to exist. It was just Wei Ying and the gentle tick-tocking that grounded him and prevented him from truly flying away.

Tick. Tock.

Tick.

Tock.

The strict rhythm allowed for no error, no manner of mistakes. It was a force to be reckoned with, not a disaster waiting for a moment to go off. It was... everything and nothing at all. Even as Wei Ying fell far enough into his head to disappear, the tick-tocking still stuck to the forefront of Wei Ying's mind. That, and the sight of a soft pale-blue blouse gently blowing in the breeze. Everything else, including Wei Ying himself, momentarily ceased to exist. But the clock and the blouse? They were all that remained in the world.

TBC...

#grannyweatherwaxshat #wangxiansolstice20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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hydradrive · 5 years ago

Text

Go Hellnalysis (aka : hydradrive gets mad at the fanbase for ignoring go’s ongoing 2 season long breakdown for like, 5+ paragraphs)

We are talking S1 foreshadowing as it relates to the facts of S2. As already mentioned, I think it sucks of the writers to do it to him like how it sucks how they treated Emma and Aoi throughout the entire series and reeks of colorism like. having your two darkest skinned characters be actively antagonistic as s2 goes on is a bad fucking look.

But it’s there, and I am not happy that people defend Lightning weirdly when he treats people he knew for years badly, and then turn around and say wildly fucked up shit about Go.

I guess today is the day i Get Into It Again. I’ll be rehashing some of my points from my old thread on nac, so strap in i guess.

This is said to Playmaker in season two.

‘After i lost to you’.

So, by episode 4. And the text backs this up. The text in season one aligns.

In Go Onizuka VS Genome :

[ transcript for subbed text:

Dr. Genome : Did your defeat at Playmaker’s hands force you to evolver?

Go Onizuka : As much as I hate to admit it, yes. That was when everything changed.

/end text screenshot id ]

That was when everything changed.

Let’s look at the rest of it, then. How it affected him, in the long-term. The Go Analysis... Is here.

MASSIVE CWs for discussion of canonical weight loss, brief discussion of disordered eating in the context of that, and a whole bunch of other stuff re: the brain hack that I don’t even know how to tag, really. medical? Basically, if you have any triggers relating to that, please exercise due diligence because I will not pull any punches about the implications.

tldr version :

This is real dialogue from Go Onizuka’s first (and only) duel against Revolver.

No matter what he says trying to spin it a different way after this segment of text, that it’s about fighting for yourself, these statements exist, and they exist with the context given by his own words; that he was struggling, mental health-wise, when he said these words.

[ transcript for subbed text:

Go Onizuka : Until now, I’ve battled in front of huge crowds. (There is a single beat frame, to indicate silence.) But I realized I’m all alone. There are no fans rooting for me here. I realized... We always duel alone. We fight for ourselves, not for anyone else.

/end text screenshot id ]

But perhaps this isn’t compelling enough for people. Fine. Let’s go even further back.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers : Go Onizuka : It’s my fault that Makoto is in this condition. /end text screenshot id ]

Go has an easily seen habit of assuming the worst, and with regards to stuff like Makoto, blaming himself, to the point that if his manager hadn't said more on Makoto, he would've been going into VS Genome blaming himself for Makoto getting into duel monsters in the first place.

In episode 5 it was shown that with one loss he was entirely certain that nobody would care about him in any capacity:

But why?

... It’s brought up in one of the first episodes of the entire series.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers :

Go Onizuka’s Manager : That’s exactly it. It’s a winner-take-all world, after all.

/end text id. ]

And given an even more... depressing? Spin later, when Go thinks about it throughout S1 and S2 during his duel with Takeru:

[ transcript for screen readers :

Before I was placed in the orphanage, I only relied on myself. The world I lived in was all about survival of the fittest. “You must protect yourself” was my credo.

/ end text screenshot id ]

It’s genuinely that simple. He slipped back into his old way of surviving because the way he did in season one didn't. save him. it didn't save him from a duel he needed to win, not just for himself necessarily. he would have died if playmaker had lost. a lot of people would have. He was already starting to have these doubts about his entire reason d’etre for dueling, and his loss only further spurred it on.

It’s repeated, again and again:

[ transcript for screen readers :

Go Onizuka : For everyone to appreciate me, I must win!

/end text screenshot id ]

That sentiment. “People won’t like me if I lose.” “People will abandon me, if I lose.” In his own words, his losses, losses in duels that were important, rotted him. And it /is/ true. His manager said he’d leave if he went to try and stop the Tower Of Hanoi and lost. And he followed through with it, by all implications. He didn’t come back until season 3. Keeping in mind that Go’s self-hatred spiral regarding guilt over in his mind dragging Makoto into the mess that was season one-era Hanoi shenanigans was only cut off because his manager and other people talked him out of it... Yeah.

This is before we bring in the other complicating factor : a certain little company, who never did anything good for anyone. A man, who despite supposedly being well-intentioned, did very little to help, until it reached the darkest point.

[ transcript for subbed text for screen readers, since that’s the primary important stuff :

Akira Zaizen : But we don’t intend to acknowledge that the network was on the brink of destruction. So I ask you don’t cause the press to delve into this.

/end text screencap id]

People focus so much on him yelling at the press because they keep asking about Playmaker but with this context?

[ transcript text for screen readers:

Akira Zaizen: You’ll continue to be the focus of the press. /end text screenshot id ]

He’s not allowed to talk about how you nearly died.

He’s not allowed to talk about what really was at stake.

In fact, he’s not allowed to even act in a way that makes people even a little suspicious about what happened.

And yet.

‘But he could just ignore this advice’ . Not really. Go Onizuka’s platform was built in Link Vrains. Being the whistleblower about the actual danger of Link Vrains would not endear him to Sol, and potential backlash from Sol, from everything we know about the company? Hmm, gosh, wonder why that might be bad. Almost as if Go is basically a livestreamer who is at risk of having the video platform he exists on die.

It would be incredibly difficult to continue working under the public eye like that. The stress from that alone would start tearing someone to pieces.

Ergo, his decision to work for Sol Technologies as a bounty hunter. Both jobs now hinge on him currying favor with a horrible megacorporation, one just has less baggage from his past way of surviving and gives him the ability to talk a tiny bit more freely about things.

This is all the leadup, of course, to the ultimate lowest point. The duel chip. Brain hack.

[ transcript text for screen readers: ‘By implanting this duel chip, the brain’s thought capabilities expand.’ /end text screenshot id ]

[ transcript text for screen readers:

Akira Zaizen: You can always refuse.

Go Onizuka : Your methods are dirty. You guide me to the gates of hell, but you don’t care what happens afterwards. /end text screenshot id ]

Let’s talk about the physical side-effects of the brain chip on Go Onizuka.

Me, personally? I genuinely wonder what came first; the most severe physical side-effects or a worsening of Go’s mental health that made him stop eating.

It’s never stated what came first. We only see the mental health side effects of the chip in flashbacks initially.

I looked at one of the instances where Akira pulled go out of the sim wrt: the listed sys/dia ratios on-screen. They have those in certain shots, btw! They’re consistently really fucked up!

Here’s what those were, in one very notable instance:

... So, right off the bat, a heartrate of 195, huh.

And a sys/dia of 187/112 with a mean of 136. Wow! I wonder what that means for him!

I can tell you.

He statistically would be in the range of having a hypertensive emergency. Having rates like this can damage your heart muscle when you don’t literally have a heart attack, hypertensive encephalopathy, ( which can cause dizziness and altered levels of consciousness, if we are getting into it.), kidney failure, coughing up blood...

I don’t want to speculate too much about why the Duel Chip caused this, but I will note that blood pressures like this sometimes come about as result of issues with the neuroendocrine system. This would tie in with a loss of appetite and some of the other things Go seems to canonically have had from the getgo of having the chip installed, and probably added on to his already pre-existing mental health stuff which I personally parsed as depression.

... I think this mostly covers the main points of what gets missed. Aka, literally all of his arc. Just, literally every piece of his arc. People miss all of it.

Also, to reiterate : it is NOT GOOD the way this is framed by the writers. it is loaded to, in a series heavily informed by the main character’s trauma, have a teenaged darker skin character ( Go is 19!! ) be portrayed as more erratic, etc etc. I do Not care about Lightning. He is a little robot, and while there is probably some ableism in the way trauma is represented therein as a corrupting force, it is far more worrying how Go is treated in terms of representation, and I am not going to bat for the guy who treated Haru like dogshit lmao.

The fact that one of the two darker skinned MOC is given more obvious mental/physical illness signifiers in terms of symptoms to mark them as antagonists (when, again, Yusaku literally CANONICALLY HAS PTSD) fucking blows, and I’m going to personally fight the writers.

But. I am also laying the blame at the fanbase’s feet for this shit, too. They literally ignored this to coo over Lightning. I’m going to bite them.

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sammysdewysensitiveeyes · 5 years ago

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I was just thinking about the villains that I obsess over, and how I would rank them in terms of morality, because I think a lot of my faves are the “not so bad” guys that sometimes show a little potential for goodness (but are still basically jerks). And then there’s Maximus who is just a chaotic asshole.

But if I was going to rank from best (as in nicest) to worst (most evil), it would go like this:

Pied Piper/Hartley Rathaway: Angry nerd musician, uses mind control and sonic waves to commit robberies. Born into a wealthy but abusive family, he later becomes concerned with issues of poverty and social justice, and starts helping the homeless. The one Flash rogue who has reformed and stayed reformed, he was even close friends with Wally West in the 90′s. (I so miss this friendship and wish DC would let them interact again.) Tries to kill Flash during the Silver Age (all the Rogues did), but to my knowledge has not murdered anyone in his crimes. (He did kill Desaad and blow up Apokolips during Countdown, but Desaad had it coming.) Given that he’s been reformed for years, I think it’s an absolute waste that he’s never gotten onto some kind of Justice League auxiliary team or something. Put the boy on a team book, he’s got potential!

Trickster/James Jesse: Wacky bank robber and con man who enjoys the thrill of tricking people more than he really cares about the money. Over-dramatic little shit who sometimes acts like a smooth con man and sometimes acts like a cartoon character, often in the same comic. Is good friend with Hartley (or at least he used to be, but I think their friendship has fallen into the DC continuity garbage pit). Tried to kill Flash during the Silver Age, but to my knowledge has not murdered anyone. He did push his parents off a building in the his latest arc, but Flash saved them. He’s a selfish jerk who is capable of goodness occasionally and flirted with the idea of reform, but much less sincerely than Hartley. I’m kinda protective of him because I’m afraid DC will push him in a dark direction to match the CW version, who is Doing Trickster Wrong. Like, it’s okay to just let him be silly bank robber, they don’t all have to be edgy.

Pyro/St. John Allerdyce: Punch clock villain - always the lackey, never the leader, small time evil. I think he’s similar to Avalanche and Blob in that he’s basically an ammoral, selfish mercenary type. He looks out for number one first. He’s definitely killed people, and probably enjoys burning things a little too much. I don’t think he necessarily gets his jollies from killing at random (like he’s not a serial killer type), but if you meet him on the battlefield he’s gonna be a nasty, vicious piece of shit. He’s actually kinda affable evil - if you meet him at a bar, he’ll probably just hang out and drink with you. He seems to bond with his team-mates, and has been a pretty good team-player in Marauders (even referring to them as his friends last issue). He also seemed to regret his past actions when he was dying of the Legacy Virus, and tried to make up for it by saving Senator Kelley. Now he’s back to partying and burning things in Marauders, but at least he seems to be on the X-Men’s side now?

Riddler/Edward Nygma: I actually think he doesn’t really enjoy killing, but I rank him worse than Pyro because he’s arguably caused more damage over the years. Riddler is determined to show up Batman and prove that he is the bestest, smartest boy in all the world, and he doesn’t care who gets hurt in the process. He kills people mostly as pawns and side casualties - if they weren’t smart enough to escape (or Batman didn’t save them quickly enough), hey, that’s not his fault, right? Depending on the writer, he can range from a silly, slightly pathetic villain with a goofy schtick to a cold-hearted, terrifying criminal mastermind. He reformed briefly and worked as a detective while he had amnesia, but went back to crime again pretty quickly. I like the idea of PI Riddler, trying to show up Batman through legal means, competing not as criminal vs. detective, but as two fellow detectives. I wish we’d gotten more PI Riddler, but oh well.

Maximus: Okay, this dude is just the worst. Sometimes claims to be doing things “for the good of the Inhuman people,” but he’s generally just wrecking shit for his own selfish purposes or because he wants to cause chaos and tear everything down. I can have a little sympathy for him for his obvious mental illness, and because he grew up in a pretty dysfunctional family/society, but he’s still pretty terrible. And I generally don’t consider the mental illness to be a reason for his villainy - like, he’s a villain who happens to be mentally ill, not a villain because of his mental illness. He’s caused plenty of death in his uprisings, generally treats people like disposable pawns, and is willing to sell out his people to the Kree if it means he gets to rule. Sometimes he works with his family against a common threat as the token evil team-mate (and I generally enjoy him most in this role), but he’s always got his own agenda. The closest he came to a redemption arc was probably when the saw his own horrible future in Royals, and seemed genuinely distressed at what befell the Inhuman people. He’s a lot of fun, though. Snarky, hilarious, chaotic, and utterly brilliant. He can be the mad scientist or the manipulative political advisor, or both depending on the story. I just want him to build giant robots and wreck things.

Honorable mention: Loki. I don’t even know where to rank him. He used to be a monster on par with Maximus, Doom or old-school Magneto, now he’s a sarcastic, angsty hipster that pops up to annoy Thor or help Thor in an annoying way. He’s fun!

Second honorable mention: Fabian Cortez. In terms of intentions, he’s really just as bad, or maybe even worse than Maximus. But since his debut in the 90′s, he’s gone through so many stages of villain decay that now he’s basically the X-Men/Quicksilver’s Team Rocket. Not even remotely a threat, and probably gonna get his ass kicked quickly. For that, I might put him somewhere between Riddler and Pyro, or between Riddler and Maximus. He’s hilarious, and I love him.

Obviously, this list is entirely subjective and my own opinion. People are free to disagree about where people belong on the list. There’s probably not much point in ranking comic characters this way, given that any of them can get pushed in darker directions or towards redemptive arcs based on writers, and many comic characters have committed atrocities that have gotten swept under the rug. There’s also the question of motive vs. actions - is Fabian really less bad because he’s incompetent? Who knows? This is just something I was thinking about, and wanted to write out in terms of my faves.

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lyricaldissonance · 5 years ago

Text

Me: *does something to improve myself, is feeling optimistic*

My Brain: You're trash and it's cute you're trying to pretend to be likeable. These people are only being nice to you because they don't know how bad you suck yet. You're going to fuck this up the same way you ruin every good thing you've ever had, because you're a miserable failure who is only likeable when you're trying to act like you're a person capable of consistently maintaining competence and decency for any real length of time. And the reason why you can't is because you really aren't either of those things because otherwise it wouldn't take all of your effort just to be fucking normal and exist without constantly burdening everyone around you.

Mental illness is so cool, wow

But yeah, the reason why I avoid employment is because I'm lazy, not because I view it as a painful reminder of my inability to function in society unless I go so hard I break out in hives every day and lose the will to live even when my job isn't the hardest or most stressful and I still can barely pay my bills. Because apparently being a baseline functional person is so stressful that it takes everything I have, and that just further drives home the point that I'm weak and disgusting and useless and maybe people who find existing so hard shouldn't exist at all.

Hahahahahahahaha

I love my new job and everyone seems to genuinely like me but I'm so scared of fucking things up that it's like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I literally don't know how to not feel like an imposter. At least 70% of my stress could be relieved if I wasn't poor and in debt because of my own mania and impulsivity and unable to do anything about it or willing to ask for help because my mom gave me 3k and I still did this shit to myself AGAIN and I can't even tell you how or why, and I'm just so ashamed at this point that I can't ask for help and it's never going to get better. It's no one's fault but my own but I can't fix it and I've been treading water for years and I'm just tired. But I can't help myself because I can't ever repay someone else so I refuse to ask for outside assistance because I already live in a constant cycle of self-perpetuating guilt that feeling even more indebted to others isn't helpful.

Being "smart" fucking sucks unless you hit the nature/nurture lottery. Like wow, how cool it is I can write this little post exploring my diseased mental state, but it 0 percent helps me to feel better or enacts any kind of directly helpful changes, so self awareness can suck my dick. I'm just another someone with an emotionally toxic upbringing who grew into an emotionally stunted adult with a poor sense of self worth who may've won a junior high spelling bee once or written a story that other tasteless rubes liked. I'm not special and now I sure as hell never will be.

What is even the fucking point. Sometimes I wish I were suicidal or more of a moron who isn't regretting the egregiously offensive former half of this sentence. Intelligence is honestly a burden to me sometimes and it's so fucking sad because sometimes I really like myself and think I'm a good person but I'm not good at making money and I guess that's all that matters.

It's funny that my life went downhill after I tried to go to college. 5 years of savings evaporated before my eyes in a single semester of formal education that has yet to give me any material benefit in life, and all of the elders who blew sunshine up my "gifted" ass who told me higher education was my golden ticket shut the fuck up real fast, and also blamed everything on my lack of dedication.

I just feel robbed. And I'm "mature" enough to know that assigning blame won't solve anything. But I've had this destructive thought process/manner of coping with things for so long that, in the absence of any healthy reinforcement that no one owes me (and that I absolutely am too proud to ask for because, well, see aforementioned), I don't know how to proceed. I'm tired of compartmentalizing myself, but time and again, I've been shown that attempting to be seen is even more dangerous because you usually just make yourself vulnerable to people who then deliberately misunderstand you and try to make it your fault or act like you tricked them. As if pretending to be an untroubled, likeable person is a more malicious act than the messy atrocity that is your real personality that. . . Oh yeah, immediately just makes you "crazy" and even more unlikeable.

The one thing I learned from my childhood is that keeping the fragile peace was paramount, even if it was at the expense of denying the truth, because poking holes through someone else's carefully constructed reality was of more concern than the people who were hurt by their actions. Addict Stan 101, amirite? A family intervention was actually staged against me about how I should care less regarding my dad's drinking and the resulting emotional abuse because it was selfish to make it "all about me".

So now I view myself as the discarded piece of beach trash I was raised to. I guess everyone just assumes value is inherent, when you don't know to care about it until someone makes you aware based on their own biased set of metrics. I'm intelligence with no purpose, because my diseased brain and developmentally stunted ass couldn't hack the one advantage I was given to my own advantage. I'm literally a masturbatory fantasy.

All the people who raised me are flawed human beings with their own demons who really didn't mean it. But I can still be impotently mad. I didn't ask to be brought into this world.

Something was wrong with me. A really common, explainable thing, as it turns out. But of course, smart girls don't have problems. Mental illness is for parodical freaks tied up in straightjackets. There are starving kids in Africa. Do you really have it that bad?

So I learned to conflate my own personality and sense of self with my neurodivergence and now I'm 30 and I have such a tenuous sense of self-confidence that I literally just cosplay whatever version of me people like best from a capitalist perspective.

Haha jk. Sike, I'm a hyperemotional reactive and I will go off for everything, nothing, and all inbetween, even though I'm very chill and the things that set me off are on no one's radar. Just usually not in a way you can immortalize on TikTok. I used to apologize for having an emotional response, because I used to prize myself on being a robot, but as it turns out, I'm just a big stupid tsundere and no one cares how tough you look if the only person you're hurting is yourself.

I lost touch with the narrative.

Apparently I wrote this while wine drunk. Hm.

It's weird how suddenly I can turn to self loathing when I feel like things are getting better and I'm doing ok. I'm just starting to ignore things again and I don't want to let it spiral out of control again. I'm so feckless that I'm not sure how I manage to survive as an adult sometimes.

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coleisunderrated · 5 years ago

Text

You know what? I’m just gonna go ahead and try to write something scary. My writing sucks so I can’t promise anything. Anyway, here’s a little snippet from my oni!Cole story idea.

“It started shortly after they made the announcement...”

“Is it about...?”

“Maybe... Or maybe it isn’t. I don’t know what I’m feeling and I don’t like it. N-not because I can’t comprehend it... It’s just... an unpleasant feeling in general...”

“Then tell me so I can help you.”

“But we’re nindroids... We’ll never understand...”

“Just because we are not organic beings doesn’t mean we are incapable of complex thoughts. You started off as an assistant of Borg Industries and now, you’re the new Samurai X. You are capable of so much more than you think. I believe you will understand.”

“What if I never do...?”

“It doesn’t matter if you understand or not or even how you feel, you can always talk to me about your feelings.”

“I don’t think this is the right time... Cole is still out there possibly wreaking havoc.”

“I understand. We will have a discussion about how you feel about all this once I return. I promise.”

Those were the last words Zane said to her before he and the ninja set off to find Cole. Kai and Jay returned empty-handed...

But Zane never returned.

Lloyd went to where he was last seen to search for him and all he found was a camera like the one he had when he ventured into the fog-covered Ninjago City. What that device recorded was nothing short of terrifying. The Samurai Mech flew towards the barren forest where Zane embarked on his ill-fated quest. She couldn’t stop thinking of all the horrors he may have been subjected to and that made her all the more motivated to find him. He made the effort to be there for her and now, it’s time for her to be there for him.

Pixal knew it wouldn’t do her mental state any favors but she felt compelled to watch and listen to the recording again. Luckily, she saved the data and with more than a little apprehension, played the recording.

The only visuals preserved in the camera were the dying plants and the dark mist that only accumulated the further Zane ventured into the forest. That alone could’ve pinpointed Cole’s location but there were more places also covered in the same malicious fog. It wasn’t as bad as it was in the city when the oni invaded but that didn’t make it any less of a threat to Ninjago. What few clips survived whatever caused Zane’s disappearance was really just him exploring the decaying woods but as the clips progressed, the fog grew thicker and the nindroid’s breaths grew heavy with caution. In the very last clip, the camera was very shaky but the ice ninja detected motion hidden in the now thick fog if his slight gasp implied anything.

And then everything went black.

After that was a single clip of audio but listening to it made each second feel like an hour. It was easily the worst of it all. If Pixal wasn’t already fearful for Zane, then she would be (as Kai would call it) losing her shit. Against her better judgement, Pixal played the audio...

At first, nothing but heavy uneven footsteps echoed until a faint panting sound gradually grew louder.

Zane clearly struggled against... something... judging from his pained grunts and gasps. He occasionally cried out but it was different from whenever he was injured. They sounded like shouts of pure agony. The crackling of the damaged audio interrupted the sounds of the nindroid’s suffering and at one point, Pixal was sure she heard him pleading ‘Help me...!’ among his incomprehensible attempts of speech. Amidst cries and heavy breaths, an ominous guttural sound gurgled and slowly took over Zane’s voice. A final strained screech escaped from the nindroid’s voice box and then nothing... for several moments.

More seconds passed until...

Faint eerie growls echoed in the darkness.

And then it was over.

And that was the last anyone has heard from Zane.

Pixal couldn’t stop shaking and all kinds of grisly scenarios played out in her mind that can’t seem to escape from all these dark thoughts. She nearly flew past the barren forest where the white ninja disappeared. Remembering that Zane was somewhere in the fog below, she guided her mech to the nearest open ground to land. She knew she may not be prepared for what lurks within nor will she be able to handle seeing what horrible fate her fellow android may have succumbed to. She still hasn’t forgotten seeing her own father’s petrified form in Ninjago City. If something like that happened to Zane or worse, she will never forgive herself and she never did, not after all the damage she caused when Ninjago City was first rebuilt.

‘No, I may not exactly be a ninja but I will never quit.’ In a strange sense of irony, these unpleasant assumptions gave the female nindroid a stronger sense of determination. She must find Zane.

The samurai robot hopped out of the mech and began her search on foot. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword and she ventured into the darkness once again.

‘Hang on, Zane... I will save you... I promise...’

#ninjago #ninjago pixal #oni!cole #my writing #if you read my plans before #you know it won't end well #don't tag as ship

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fandom-necromancer · 6 years ago

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162 – continuation

The wonderful @scale-shark72 inspired me again to write a continuation to show Gavin’s reaction to Nines’ attempt at socialising. Have fun!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900

part1 part3 part4 part5

Gavin stood next to his coffee-machine at home, waiting for his first dose of caffeine before driving over to the precinct. Absent-minded he turned the stone in his hand. It had become a new habit of his, just flipping over the not completely round object while he was thinking. It had been two days since the android gifted it to him. Since then it had gotten back to not emoting in any way. Sitting opposite to him, reacting at things that weren't meant for him and not reacting when they were. Talking analytical, more a machine than a machine would have been. God, even Connor had been more human-like before deviating. And Gavin knew the RK900 was a deviant. That was the one requirement of working at the DPD.

Since their meeting outside, the weird comments and, well, this stone, Gavin's thoughts circled around the android. It was clear this incident meant something; it was too odd for it not to. But he couldn't find a reason. Connor had taught him the lesson not to offend the robot in any way. A man's pride could only be hurt so many times, before backing down. He had thought that to be the status quo from now on - Gavin being civil with the thing and in return having to deal with that oversized text to speech analyser- but the android’s actions had been social ones. At least they were not work related. Well, it was something entirely new in working with the android and Gavin had no idea how to get some insight. He could ask the android himself but talking with the thing wouldn't get him anything but new questions with his cryptic techno-talks. He could ask Connor, but that wouldn't end well. Maybe Hank? Again, not the best of ideas as the man was practically glued to the RK800. Maybe it was best to just let it go and ignore the stupid android. Maybe it was just malfunctioning anyway.

As he arrived at the precinct the android was already working away. As it always was. Except for that day of unexplainable absence, the machine had always been working. Did it work when he had gone home, too? Connor never stayed overnight for all he knew. God, when had he become so caught up with this android? ‘Morning, tin-can.’ No answer. Well, as expected. The stupid thing most likely was too deep into whatever it was working on. Gavin turned on his computer and while he waited, positioned the stone he still held in his pocket on his table. ‘Hey, toaster.’ The other raised his head, completely void of any expression yet somehow it screamed confusion all over the place. ‘What can I do for you, Detective?’ ‘Erm… yes, regarding that. I wanted to- ah phck, are you always working?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘For real? What do you do when I’m gone?’ ‘I stay and work on our cases.’ ‘You don’t have to, I don’t know, sleep or something?’ ‘I require time spent in stasis, four to six hours depending on the activities of the day.’ ‘And you do nothing but sit here all the time?’ ‘No. Was that expected?’ ‘Was that- hell, tin-can that can’t be healthy, even for an android!’ ‘Androids can’t get ill, detective.’ ‘Yeah, but you’re awake, right? I mean you guys can have mental stuff.’ ‘I don’t know what you mean with mental stuff but I assure you I am in perfect working condition.’ ‘Oh phck off man. You’re acting like a damn machine all the time, maybe it’s the stress.’ ‘Detective, I am a machine.’ ‘You are a deviant. You are supposed to feel and shit.’ ‘I don’t eat, so I don’t have to-‘ ‘Okay stop this before it gets worse, okay? Connor is a machine, too and he is feeling plenty.’ ‘I never said I don’t have feelings.’ ‘Really? Because I got the idea you don’t. There can be the most gruesome murder and you comment on how the body is underweight. Like holy shit man, look at you know. You are like an extraordinarily detailed mannequin. There is literally no expression at all. That really creeped me out in the beginning.’

There was the red light again. Shit. Across the precinct, Connor shot up from his chair. What kind of telepathy-sixth-sense they both had, Gavin would never know. What he was sure of though, was that his day was off to a bad start, when he would have a talk with the older brother at this early hour. The RK800 was already stomping over, Gavin getting in a defensive position ready to jump up to his feet. ‘Hey, come on man, all we did was talk! I didn’t do anything.’ But the android was determined, and he prepared for getting thrown against a wall again. But none of that happened, when the RK900 got up instead, pushing against his brother’s chest and blocking his path. ‘RK800. Stop. I am perfectly capable of handling the Detective myself, I don’t need you to act for me every time. I never asked for it.’ Surprisingly, Connors face got soft immediately with a knowing smile. ‘Nines, I know you might think that way, but I know you are misinterpreting this. Something he said stressed you and you don’t know how to react. I won’t let my little brother get exploited or ordered around, simply because he lacks a social module and doesn’t understand what’s happening. So, let me handle this for you.’ ‘No. You don’t recognise you order me around right now. The Detective did nothing but talk to me. How am I supposed to write my own programming if I have no source to learn from? If I ever need your help, I will ask for it. But right now, you are acting without my consent again and I won’t let that happen. I want you to go.’

Gavin had simply watched what was happening, not really understanding everything, but seemingly getting a bit more of an idea what was going on. Connor surprisingly nodded at that and went back to his desk, looking just as confused as Gavin himself. ‘For the sake of working efficiency, would you accompany me to the break room?’ ‘Err, yes. Of course. What the hell happened there? You know I need an explanation, right?’

He followed the android through the precinct, feeling Connor’s eyes in his back. Before Gavin could say anything, the android burst out: ‘My unit doesn’t have a social module. It was never installed because my prototype remained unfinished in the revolution. I can’t pick up or imitate important communication means such as facial expressions, voice intonation and gestures.’ ‘Wow, okay. That is a bit much. So, what you are saying is you can’t feel anything?’ ‘No. I can feel emotions. I can’t emote them or recognise them in others.’ ‘Shit. Why did you never told anyone?’ ‘Hank and Connor know. Fowler too. That was the reason he partnered me up with a human.’ ‘Okay, why didn’t you tell me?’ ‘It is a defect.’ ‘And you want to appear perfect?’ Silence. Then an answer: ‘Yes. I wanted to be a good partner.’ ‘Okay, what did you mean with “writing your own programming”?’ ‘I don’t have a social module installed, but I can build up my own from experience. I did a lot of research and learned from the people around me in the hopes of figuring it out before someone recognises it. But I failed.’ Gavin looked at the android before him and his red LED. A lot began to make sense all of sudden. ‘So that’s what it was out there, you gifting me the stone?’ ‘My research resulted that to make a partner happy you compliment them and bring gifts. I tried it, although I can’t know whether I succeeded.’ ‘Hey, I really like the stone. You did great. And you are a good partner. All this time I thought you were some kind of asshole ignoring me all day, but this actually makes sense now.’ ‘I can understand if you don’t want to work alongside a defective android.’ ‘Oh come on, you are working with a defective human and don’t seem to complain. And you’re not defective in the first place if you were built this way, I guess.’ ‘So you still want to work with me?’ ‘Of course. Although now you’ve given me something to think about… Do you want me to help build up your social skill-thingy?’ ‘I would appreciate that.’ ‘Good. Tonight, you won’t staying here and work, you are coming with me and see people!’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #Gavin Reed #RK900 #lets be honest gavin will mess up a perfectly good android #I mean his personality isn't the best to work with when learning how to human #well RK900 has a thing to say in that too I guess so it should be fine

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she-is-tim · 6 years ago

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I love hating you | Elu enemies to lovers AU | Ch. 7

Previous Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 6.5

Lucas is an angry, closeted and frustrated gay teenager, while Eliott is the handsome, smart and popular guy in school. They hate each other… but not forever.

I didn’t mean to hurt him

When Lucas heard that Eliott came to school, he felt like throwing up. It was Emma who told him, because she heard it from Alex. Lucas was hiding in the bathroom, trying to calm himself down. He so wasn’t ready for this. Since tuesday he barely could eat, his mind couldn’t focus on anything, because he kept thinking of Eliott. His chest was hurting more than ever and he couldn’t do anything to make the pain stop. His eyes filled with tears, body shaking uncontrollably. He got startled when his phone started ringing. He swiped the sweat off his palms and pulled his phone out of his pocket, answering the call without checking who it was.

“Hello?” his voice was a bit shaky, but he tried to sound as normal as possible.

“Bro, where are you? Class is starting soon.” Arthur said worried, reminding his friend of his upcoming biology class.

“I’m coming, I just had to come to the bathroom.” he explained, telling the half-truth. He haven’t talked to his friends much about Eliott, they just knew that he had something with him, but this was much more complicated.

“Okay, I’ll tell Imane to stop worrying then.” Arthur said now and hung up.

Lucas was glad that he had friends like him, who could understand that pushing the boy to speak won’t help the situation. When he feels like he need to talk, then he will know where to find his friends. He thought about Yann, they talk on monday and he felt like he should at least tell him what happened between him and Eliott. He deserved to get some answers to all those questions he probably has, but never dared to ask.

He flushed the toilet, making it look like he was doing something in there and walked out of the stall. He washed off the tears from his face, trying to breathe evenly. When he left the bathroom, he walked into someone and the sudden force pushed him back. He thought he’s going to fall to the floor when a strong arm grabbed his wrist, pulling him forward until he found himself pressed to a warm chest. This whole situation felt so familiar and his heart skipped a beat when he recognized the smell of the person. He looked up, meeting with stormy grey eyes, a handsome, but tired looking face and that beautiful, messy hair.

“Watch out next time, Lallemant.” Eliott said, voice bitter as he let the boy go and took a step back, avoiding eyecontact. The bruise on his cheek was slowly fading away, but it still made Lucas feel guilty about it.

“I-I’m sorry...”

“Whatever.” Eliott said, shrugging off the boy and walking away like nothing happened.

Lucas was watching him disappear in the crowd of students. His heart cracked yet once more. It was one thing to think that Eliott hates him, that he doesn’t care anymore, but seeing that dead look, hearing those bitter words were so much more painful. He clenched his fists and swallowed back his tears, walking to biology class. This can’t break him, not now.

Lucas almost ran away to hide in the bathrom again when he realized that his next class just before lunch break is literature with Eliott. He haven’t had to worry meeting the boy so far, cause it seemed like he was avoiding Lucas, which was just as relieving as painful. He was standing a few steps from him classroom, trying not to freak out, control his breathing. He had no idea if Eliott was already inside or not, but he couldn’t just skip his class.

He sighed and looked up from the floor when he saw that just across him was standing Eliott, staring at him with those piercing eyes. He was holding onto the strap of his backpack on his shoulder. He looked exhausted, eyes sitting in dark shadows, skin pale and his whole appearence screamed that he haven’t had a good sleep in a while. Lucas knew the feeling too well, he spent most of his nights watching stupid tv shows with really low volume on the couch, wrapped in a blanket.

None of them moved to walk into the classroom. Eliott seemed like someone who saw a ghost, he closed his eyes for a few seconds, looking away from the short boy and then he walked in without saying anything. Lucas bit his bottom lip strong enough to make him feel the pain before walking after Eliott. He was sitting at their table, leaning over a book, probably the one they are gonna talk about in class. The short boy took the seat next to him, clearly feeling the awkward tension between them. Eliott had a pen in his right hand, slowly knocking on the table with it, like he tried to focus on that one sound. Lucas took a deep breath and put his own book on the table too, making sure he doesn’t make any more physical contact with his classmate.

When the class was over, Eliott basically jumped up from his seat and ran out of the room. Lucas felt like shit, not knowing what he could do to fix this. His feelings for this tall boy rooted so deep inside that he couldn’t just get rid of them. Not sure if he actually wanted that. This was something that never happened to him before, falling in love with someone. Before he tries to give up on it, he had to make sure that Eliott wants nothing from him.

He spent the whole week looking up bipolarity online and in books. His brain felt like it’s going to blow up from all the informations. Knowing that Eliott had to live with something that makes his life ten times harder broke his heart. All the sources said different things about mania, depression, episodes, suicidal thoughts. He was scared, afraid of what Eliott would do to himself when he’s feeling so low, but he couldn’t just call him to make sure he’s okay.

It was wednesday afternoon when he decided to call Sofiane. He could only hope that the boy has some information on how Eliott is doing. Although he was asked to leave the apartment on that damned tuesday, he couldn’t stop thinking of Eliott’s face when they talked. The single tear on his face, his robotic voice as he told Lucas to leave. All of it was haunting him day and night.

“Yes?” he got startled when a soft voice spoke from his phone. He totally forgot that he was calling someone. This often happened with him lately, forgetting about the outside world, diving into his thoughts.

“Sofiane, it’s me, Lucas.” he said, trying to normalize his heartbeat.

“Lucas, are you okay?” he asked, sounding genuinely worried which warmed the short boy’s heart. He couldn’t believe that after everything happened Eliott’s best friend was still worried about him.

“I am fine. I actually wanted to ask about Eliott.” he explained, fighting with the nervous feeling in his throat. He heard a soft sigh from the other side of the line, which made him even more nervous now. “What is it?” he asked, surprising himself with the demanding tone.

“He is in a bad place right now, Lucas. I don’t know if you guys talked...”

“He told me about his illness.” the boy cut him off quickly, he had no time for pep talk, he wanted to know if Eliott was okay.

“Okay, I wasn’t expecting that.” Sofiane said surprised. “He usually doesn’t talk about it... I mean, he is pretty ashamed of it, although we keep telling him that he is just like any other teenager...” he explained and let out another sigh. “His life is not easy, Lucas, he had to go through a lot of shit in the last few years.”

“But is he okay?” he asked again, feeling his eyes filling up with tears.

“He will be. Lucille came back to Paris and she’s taking care of him now.” he explained. “She knows how to handle this.”

“But he didn’t... try to... you know...”

“Hurt himself?” the boy asked, sounding really serious all of the sudden. “Lucas, you probably read that on the internet a lot and it’s not impossible for him to feel such low, so deeply hurt that he would do a stupid thing like that, but... I trust him, you know. And we all making sure he can’t get so deep into this shit.” he said on a softer tone now. “Listen, I don’t know when he will go to school again. His episodes always different, some goes down in a few days, some takes a week, sometimes he needs much longer time, but I know for a fact that whatever he said to you, he still cares about you. I saw him after a breakup before, but he has never been like this. His feelings are serious.”

“So are mine.” Lucas said now, surprising himself with the confession, but he kept going. “I don’t care that he is mentally ill, Sofiane. I spent my afternoons looking up bipolarity instead of studying, I can’t have a decent sleep since I left his place and I certainly not gonna give up on what was between us, because it was real to me. More real than my first year at school, pretending to be someone I wasn’t.” he said, pouring out his heart through the phone. The rocks were slowly rolling off his chest, making him feel like he can breathe again.

“In that case, I am hoping you can reach out to him.” Sofiane said and he could imagine that bright smile on his face as he was talking.

“I will try my very best.” Lucas said and hung up. He went back to his search on bipolarity, visiting some phychological blogs and forums.

After school he decided to go to the common room, just hanging out there before going home. It was a bit more calming for him to sit on the armchair there, staring at the piano in front of the terrible mural. He remembered how he played the song on it, how Eliott clapped when he finished the piece. His face as he got closer and closer to Lucas until he could feel his breath. He was a bit mad at the girls that they interrupted them that day, but was a bit glad too. Their first kiss at the bus stop, in the pouring rain was something he could never forget. It was burnt into his brain, every single moment of it.

“Don’t you think, Lucas?” a soft voice dragging him out of his dreamy thoughts. He’s shaking his head, looking at the girls. They were sitting on the couches facing each other and talking about something, but he couldn’t recall what was the topic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening.” he said honestly. He just noticed that he was holding his phone in his hands, like he was hoping to get a message from Eliott.

“I said that the common room looks almost perfect, but we still have to get rid of the mural.” Daphné repeated her words with a bright smile on her face. “Wouldn’t you like to help us with it? You did a great job with the chairs.”

“Daphné, chairs and a whole wall is two different thing.” Imane said, looking up from her book.

“Plus Lucas shouldn’t do such an exhausting task.” Manon added, looking worried at her flatmate, which made Lucas let out a frustrated sigh.

“I’m not a fragile doll, just because I’m sad.” he said seriously. “And I guess you don’t want me to start painting right now.”

“No, of course not.” Daphné said, being excited that the boy seemed like he’s willing to help them. “I thought about next friday, after school.”

“Okay, I’ll gather the boys and we’ll do something with it.” Lucas nodded and laid his head back in the armchair, letting the girls continue talking without his presence.

The weekend passed fairly quickly. Lucas spent his days doing homework with Manon, cleaning the flat and watching tv with Mika and Lisa. No one asked him about Eliott and that was okay. He needed time before he could tell them about his feelings for the boy. It was enough that they knew he was gay, it was a big relief to get rid of the fake Lucas, his lies and stupid excuses. He had the chance to be himself finally.

On monday morning, he decided to start trying to reach out to Eliott, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. The boy would probably just ignore his messages, so that was a dead end. He thought for a second and remembered how much Eliott talked about Love, Simon when they were together. He looked for a picture of the Ferris wheel from the movie and added a quote to is as the caption: “Sometimes I think I’m destined to care so much about one person it nearly kills me.“

He sighed after posting the picture. He knew Eliott wasn’t following him on insta, but he admitted that he was always stalking Lucas, checking his posts and stories, so he really hoped that this haven’t changed after their fight.

He felt his phone endlessly buzzing in his pocket as he walked to school, probably his friends asking about the post, people liking and commenting on it. He was glad that most of the students calmed down, not bullying him, but those glancing eyes were still following him everywhere. Like they were waiting for Lucas to start making out with a random guy in the middle of school. He rolled his eyes, knowing the only person he wanted to do that with was actively avoiding him.

When he got to his locker, he took a deep breath. His mind was spinning around Eliott, trying to think of a good way to reach out to him. Lucas no.36 was probably already talking to him, Lucas no.53 was hiding in the bathroom, crying like a baby, while Lucas no.95 was making out on the hall with Eliott no.95. He wished he could be doing that too instead of feeling nervous all the time, not knowing how to fix the shit he created around themselves. He opened his locker, but something fell out of it. He thought it was probably just a note, since he had so much shit stuffed in that tiny space, sometimes papers and books just fell out. He leant down to pick it up, it was a piece of paper, carefully folded. He opened it to see what’s on it and his heart skipped a beat.

It was a drawing of a raccoon sitting on a couch, drawing something, while there were a lots of crumbled papers around him and a dark cloud above his head. Lucas knew that this was from Eliott. His eyes filled with tears and pressed the paper to his chest, trying to lock it into his heart. Even if the drawing was sad, showing that Eliott wasn’t feeling good, he still tried to reach out, making sure Lucas knows that he still wants something.

A single tear rolled down his face and he looked for his phone quickly. Lots of thoughts running through his mind at the same time, but he wanted to be just short and simple. He opened instagram and went to his DMs, looking for the chat with Eliott. It was so weird to see their soft and endearing texts there, so he tried to ignore those, starting to type.

lucallemant Thank you for the drawing, If you wanna talk, I am always ready

He gasped when the word “seen” appeared under his message, but he got no replies from Eliott. He put away his phone, ignoring the texts and notifications on the app. He made sure he has the right books and notes for the upcoming classes, having a stupid smile on his face.

It was lunch time and Lucas was sitting with the boys, staring at his phone screen, not even touching his food. They were talking about Yann’s date with Chloé this weekend, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was looking for Eliott in the crowd all day, checking his phone every 5 minutes if he got a message, but nothing. Since he got the drawing, Eliott showed no sign of being in school or wanting to talk to Lucas and it was slowly killing him.

He grabbed his fork and poked a broccoli on his plate a couple times, still holding the phone in his other hand. It was agonizing to wait. He wanted to send millions of texts to Eliott, but he knew that wouldn’t make the other boy respond. He was desperate, sad and lonely without him. He barely noticed when his friends started talking to him. He shook his head when Yann threw a piece of corn at him.

“What?” he asked, pulling his phone to his chest now.

“We asked you a question.” Arthur said, raising his eyebrows. “Are you okay, bro?”

“I don’t know.” Lucas said honestly. “I wanna talk to Eliott, but I don’t know how...’

“Why are you making things complicated? Just go to his place after school and demand a talk.” Arthur said, shrugging it off easily.

“It’s not that simple...” he sighed. “Eliott is not doing well... and that is my fault. I hurt him, because I’m an idiot.” he looked down at the food on his plate.

“Well, that is not news to us.” Yann said, trying to tease his friend a little. “Look, we all can see how much you care about the guy. Are you sure he wants this too? Because it has been a week since you guys had the fight and he haven’t talked to you at all.” he said on a serious tone now. Lucas looked up at him, seeing the concern in his eyes, but he was also worried. They probably never saw him being so affected by another person, and that just confirmed how gone he was for Eliott.

“He put a drawing in my locker.” he said and sighed when the boys looked confused. “He’s an artist, it’s his way to communicate.” he explained.

“Okay, what was on the drawing?” Basile asked while he stuffed some greenish looking pasta into his mouth.

“It was just... him being sad and drawing with a lot of crumpled papers around him.” he explained and started to poke his broccoli again.

“So that means he was thinking of you, isn’t it?” Basile said, surprising his friends with his intellectual question. “I mean he probably tried to draw something that could express his feelings, but it was so hard that he decided to show you how he can’t find the right words.” he continued, shoving more pasta in his mouth and chewing loudly on it.

“Looks like our friend here still have some leftover braincells to use.” Arthur said with an impressed smile. “Nice speech, Baz.”

“This pasta is fucking good.” he said now, still munching, Lucas chuckled a little.

“By the way, Daphné asked me to help her repaint the mural in the common room. I thought we could do it together.” he offered with a soft smile, making his pasta-eating friend beam to the news.

“Daphné asked? We will help! Of course! I will paint something for her and she is going to fall in love with me.” he said excitedly.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. Some fun time together wouldn’t hurt.” Arthur added and he started to eat his food too.

“Sure, bro.” Yann smiled at his best friend. “You can always count on us.”

“Thanks, guys.” Lucas said with a grateful smile, still not touching his meal.

Tuesday went by slowly, Lucas was suffering without knowing what’s up with Eliott. He didn’t see him at school, he wasn’t on literature class, he didn’t text back. It was hard not to contact him again, but after that drawing, he knew that Eliott probably needed time to think and collect his thoughts. He decided to text Sofiane instead, hoping that he will have some information on his beloved, tall boy.

lucallemant Hey You have any news on Eliott?

sofalaoui I am not supposed to talk to you

lucallemant Come again?

sofalaoui Eliott asked me not to talk to you

lucallemant Now THAT is bullshit

sofalaoui He needs time Believe me, I want you guys to be back together more than anyone But the health of my friend is much more important He suffered a lot because of you

lucallemant I didn’t mean to hurt him

sofalaoui I know, but it happened Just make sure you won’t screw it up again

Lucas couldn’t say anything to that, he just locked his phone and sighed, leaning back on the couch. He stared at the ceiling for long minutes before closing his eyes. Memories of Eliott were haunting his brain, making his chest hurt yet again. He didn’t even try to fight back them, he deserved to remember those, even if it caused him to feel pain.

They were laying in bed, arms wrapped around each others, legs entangled. Afternoon sun warmed their skin, lighting up their faces. Eliott’s eyes looked even more beautiful in the bright sunlight, his eyelashes were so long, his hair seemed almost gold. Lucas slid his hand up to put it on Eliott’s face, rubbing his cheek with his thumb. The tall boy shot him a soft smile, moving his head a little so their foreheads touch. He chuckled, giving him a soft peck on the lips, then he pulled back, but Eliott didn’t let him, chasing after him to have a much more passionate kiss.

Lucas smirked into his lips, sliding his hand into Eliott’s soft locks, grabbing them a little to pull him closer. Their tongues were dancing, making sloppy sounds. The boy made sure their body is as close as possible. As they separated, Eliott started to shower his face with soft kisses. One on the forehead, one on the nose, on the cheeks, on he jaw, under his eyes. Lucas couldn’t help, but let out a little giggle.

“What are you doing?” he asked, circling his fingers on the other’s neck.

“Kissing you.” Eliott said with a playful smile and bit his lip gently. “You are so beautiful.”

“That’s just so fucking cheesy.” Lucas mumbled, burying his face into Eliott’s neck now to hide his blush. They were doing this since almost a day now, laying in bed, kissing, cuddling, but the soft compliments still made his heart race like a crazy horse.

“Yeah, I know.” he said smiling, planting a soft kiss on Lucas’ hair. “But I love how you react when I say something like that.” he chuckled and put his hand on the boy’s neck, caressing his skin. “The way you just bury your face into me, the little whining noise you make... I wanna make sure I remember all these moments, because I’ve never been so happy before.” he whispered softly, right into Lucas’ ear. He felt shiver going through his spine, making him feel things he never did before. His face was still pressed to Eliott’s neck and he wasn’t planning to pull back anytime soon. He tightened his grip around the other’s body, holding him close, breathing in his soft smell, enjoying the warmth of him. Eyes closing slowly, as he let himself drift off into the sea of happiness with this gorgeous man in his arms.

Wednesday came as fast as an old lady crossing the street in the early hours of the day. Slow and painful. Lucas felt like every move he does required twice the strength that it did before. Getting out of bed, brushing teeth, dressing up, going to school. When he was standing at his locker, he felt ten years older, or even twenty. He let out an exhausted sigh, packing his stuff in and out of the locker before going to his classes. When he was finished, lock on the door and everything, he turned around and almost dropped his bag in shock.

A crowd of people entered the halls, being loud, asking questions, making weird sounds, mostly girls to be honest. But the thing that catched Lucas’ eyes was the boy in the middle of them, Eliott. He looked fairly okay, hair messy as usual, eyes looking tired, surrounded with dark circles, the bruise on his left cheek fading away. He had a smile on his face as he looked at all the girls around him, trying to keep his pace slow, so he won’t be knocking over any of them. Lucas could tell that even if he was smiling, he wasn’t happy at all. He knew it, because his eyes looked sad, exhausted even, not a bit of happiness reaching them.

He leaned to the lockers, trying to catch his breath as the crowd passed by him, when suddenly, like a lightning struck him, Eliott raised his head, looking at his direction. The boy was sure that his brain stopped working, his heart gave up on pumping blood into his body. He froze right then and there. The face Eliott made was painful to watch. He looked sad, longing in his eyes, but he pursed his lips, forcing himself to look away, bringing his focus back on the girls around him.

Lucas felt tears bundling up in his eyes, he slid down to the floor, hugging his bag to his chest. As he tried to normalize his breathing, he noticed his friends walking to him, Yann immediately kneeling down to his friend, putting a hand on his shoulder, looking concerned.

“Lulu, what’s wrong?” he asked worryingly. Arthur and Basile stood behind him, also looking corcerned.

“He’s here...” Lucas mumbled, rubbing off the tears from his cheeks.

“Eliott?” Arthur asked surprised and looked around. “Did he talk to you?”

“No.” he shook his head, almost a bit too intensely, feeling dizzy after it. “He just walked by with some girls...”

“Girls?” Basile raised an eyebrow.

“He’s the most popular guy in the school, remember.” the blond friend said and he helped Yann to scoop Lucas up from the floor. He was still shaking, so his best friend kept holding his arm.

“I wasn’t ready for this.”

“I can tell.” Arthur said, smiling just a little. “Listen here, Lulu. We know how much you like him, but you can’t let these emotions take over your life, okay?” he said softly, rubbing the boy’s upper arm. “Whatever happens next, whatever he says when you talk to him, just remember that you are not alone.”

“There are millions of Eliotts out there, Lulu. But you? You are unique!” Basile said seriously, pointing at his friend like he won the lottery just now. Lucas felt warmth spreading in his chest, making him happy. He opened his arms and pulled all three of his friends into one big group hug. They hugged back immediately, almost crashing his bones in the process. Lucas laughed, his friends laughed. It was a wholesome moment for them.

He didn’t see Eliott anymore that day, but he heard girls talking about him on the halls. It was slightly infuriating, hearing them saying things like “He smiled at me” or “I think he likes me” or “Isn’t he gay?” It made him pissed, so he decided to join the girl squad at the common room after school. The place looked much better than before, there was a table soccer, multiple board games, a computer, nice carpet on the floor, the pink chairs Lucas painted for the girls, the big table, couches and armchairs to chill and a huge chalkboard that was filled with funny messages and little drawings. The only thing that was off his the ugly mural, but that will be fixed soon, so the room can look the way Daphné imagined.

He flopped down in the armchair, after he dropped his bag on the floor, joining to the girls. They all smiled at him fondly and he returned the smile. He pulled up his legs and listened to them, talking about some vacation. He couldn’t really focus, his mind kept going back to this morning, when he saw Eliott on the school hall. It felt like an eternity since they last met, but it was only a few days ago.

“So, Lucas.” Daphné said suddenly, dragging him out of his thoughts. This girl never let him sink into his mind, she just had to talk to him, which was sweet, but also a tiny bit annoying.

“Yes, Daphy?”

“What is going on with you and Eliott?” she asked suddenly, casually, like it’s not a big thing for him. Lucas felt his blood froze in his veins, his brain stopped working and he was just staring at Daphné in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” Imane said now, sounding really upset. “You can’t ask something like this out of nowhere.” she said, looking really disappointed in her blonde friend.

“Why not? I was just curious and they would be a lovely couple...”

“Daphné, stop.” Imane raised her hand, but looking at Lucas now. “Don’t answer her. We get that you need your time.”

“Yeah, just don’t feel like we wanna push you into talking.” Manon added with a soft smile.

Lucas sighed, finally able to breathe again. Daphné’s ignorance shocked him a little, but seeing how much Imane and Manon cared about him helped to get himself back into the real world. As the boys told him, he can’t be worrying about Eliott all the time, he can’t chew on this for eternity. He had to let himself enjoy his life and talk things out. The girls were his friends and friends talk to each other about problems.

“We haven’t talked in a while...” he started and looked at the ceiling. “We had some serious thing going on between us... before I got outed.”

“Is that the reason why you didn’t come to my party?” Emma asked curiously, catching the opportunity to talk openly.

“Yeah, he was with his parents for a week, he texted me that he’s back... I went to meet him and things happened.” he let out a deep breath, looking at the girls now, regretting immediately. All of them turned towards him, eyes wide open, ready to take in everything he says. “We spent the weekend together.”

“That explains a lot of things.” Manon said with a knowing grin and Lucas giggled.

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. We were just... well, lost in each other, I might say. I totally forgot to check my messages.” he said, feeling a slight blush taking place on his cheeks. The girls laughed, softly and fondly.

“So, you like him, right?” Daphné asked, making Imane slap her shoulder gently, but still enough to let her know that she was being inappropriate yet once again. Lucas chuckled.

“Well, yes. I like him a lot.” he said honestly. The girls smiled at him widely, but he got distracted by the buzzing of his phone. He pulled it out of his pocket and saw a message from Sofiane, but as he opened instagram, something else catched his eye.

srodulv liked your post

He gasped. It was the photo he posted on monday morning, with the Ferris wheel from Love, Simon. And that fucking quote. He suddenly felt embarrased, knowing that Eliott actually saw that and he even liked it. All of this was so sudden, he didn’t know what to think about this. Eliott was making small moves towards him, despite the fact that last friday he was cold as ice whenever they met. He was still shaking when he got another notification.

srodulv started following you

#skam france #Eliott Demaury #Lucas Lallemant #Elu #elu enemies to lovers au #eliott x lucas #I love hating you

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