#No trying to science this out going straight to the magic bullshit people | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tortilla-of-courage · 3 years

Note

Yeah, kind of insane that the Adoption AU started with a 3am Taco Bell run.

I do actually have a few one shots already written for this AU! There's the Taco Bell story, the time Sky got arrested, the time Twilight got shot, a funny story I wrote based on real events with Twi, Wars and Wind trying to cook, and something based on that one picture of the boys playing the floor is lava by cherypaii(? I think that's the url?). And I have a half finished fic about Lullaby reacting to Time's increase in kids I call "Lullaby reacts to Time's Batman-Level Adoption Bullshit", and a half finished fic introducing Wild's twin. So if anyone is interested in reading some of the fun bits for the AU, since I'm still writing for the plot part (although this conversation has given me inspiration and motivation to write the bit where they find Twi after he was kidnapped, so,) then I'd be happy to post them.

And since you mentioned hoping more info would magically appear, consider this magic.

Midna is a mafia princess, and her family immigrated to get away from it. Zant is her cousin, and his parents followed to make sure Midna's parents didn't embarrass the family. She briefly had to move away after the incident where Twi got shot, but she's back before the plot happens.

Twi and Time both have their face markings in this AU. Time had his tattooed on after the FD incident as a reminder of what he's capable of and what he's lost (considering this plot beat's connection to his family and the Order), for better or worse. Twilight was gifted his by Midna after he fought Zant to try and protect her and Dusk from Zant. The markings are traditional Twili tattoos, painted on with some kind of something that acts as a mix of tattoing and henna, and have to be earned. Twilight's represent courage, boldness and sacrifice.

Warriors has a whole plot I've done nothing with involving Cia being, well, creepy as all get out. Basically I read somewhere that a victim of abuse is more likely to end up in other abusive relationships when looking at how Warriors' bio parents being abusive would effect him and then I remembered Cia and decided to be mean to him.

The underground hospital that took care of Wild after the wreck is called the Shrine of Resurrection because I thought that was a cool way to connect that.

I had this stupid idea once that Midna writes purposefully terrible fanfic and a few people suspected she wrote 'My Immortal' for a while, and when she comes back everyone is like "The Chaos Corner guy's brother is dating the lady who wrote My Immortal???" and Midna decides to set the record straight by doing a small livestream on like, Instagram or something where she explains she's actually dating Dusk. She's reapplying Twi's markings as she says this, and is basically in his lap. Twilight spends the whole thing looking like he wants the floor to swallow him.

Rottla is informed by a therapist that she should try and do something since her kids don't feel safe (which, considering Time got stabbed in their living room, not feeling safe is understandable), and decides the best way to fix this is to teach them how to fight. Time and Lullaby are both black belts in several martial arts and can use most weapons well as a result. To Rottla's credit, this does actually work.

The sorority Warriors befriends is made up of the fairies I saved in his game. Because I love those fairies. They're my favorite part of his game. Also, Proxi is here.

Navi lives! She's rescued by the Order, like how the rest of Deku's kids were. She plays the role of a Great Fairy for the order. Her fairies are actually Warriors' sorority. And Tatl, actually.

Saria is a strong contender to become leader of the Order eventually.

Majora is here and I can't tell based on my outline if I have Time kill Majora or not. So, Time potentially kills a man.

Wind has a boat with an old radio connected to a lighthouse where an old man lives. This old man is Daphnese Nohanssen, but Wind always calls him Red. They talk a lot, and Daphnese is glad he has someone who will talk to him because he is very lonely.

Wild has a motorbike (Master Cycle) that it is honestly a miracle he hasn't wrecked yet. He breaks himself but never the bike. Wars has an older car that he's put some elbow grease in and you'd never know it wasn't new. Twilight has a beat up old pickup truck everyone is just waiting to die, but it hasn't yet. This is impressive, considering Twi does drag racing.

Also, Warriors has a tendency to get in fist fights, and between them and Legend (who is never arrested for the same thing twice), Time happens to be on a first name basis with most of the police in the city. The chief has his number on speed dial for when he needs to go pick up a kid.

Wild's friends are all alive and they love him. Flora is laser focused on helping him with his memory issues. And feeding him weird things. For science.

Wild's twin, Knight, is mute. He speaks in sign. He's also a bit blindsided by how chaotic the house is, but he fits in very well. They buy a roomba that Knight tapes a knife to and blames Wild.

At some point I'll write the fic where someone modifies a nerf gun and things escalate until Time shows up with one of those machine gun nerf guns hooked up to a car battery (a modification he did with help from Sheik and Ruto). Who needs depth perception who you can shoot 60 darts per second? It's chaos and when Malon gets back from a trip she takes this week she finds the house in disarray and a hockey puck in the wall. Clean up takes three days, and they are still finding nerf darts in weird places.

This is off the top of my head. I am certain I am missing something.

Forgive the weird formatting, I don't know what happened there.

-Attllhak

honestly i’d love if you ever posted any of the one shots you have already - and i think i saw one or two other people say they wanted to read the story too in the post where you explained most of the plot, so i’m not alone on this aha

Can i say i love how you somehow connected a lot of their games’ original details and made them make sense in a modern setting???? like it can be a hard thing to accomplish but with wat you just told us here it sounds like you did it amazingly and it makes me all the more excited to see what other connections there are!!!

#if you ever post any of these i'll reblog them here SO hard #warriors' sorority friends being the fairies from his game..... that was SUCH a clever thing omg #everything in here is honestly #no idea what happened to the formatting either #tortilla asks #linked universe #tw injury #injury mention #ask to tag #linkeduniverse #long post #i've reread htis post so many times i love it #finally posting it for everyone to see sorry i was selfish aha

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something-very-special · 3 years

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Impressions

I know I’m way behind on progression through Replicant (insofar as anybody can be ‘way behind’ in the sense of playing a video game for personal entertainment), buuuut I figured I’d share a few thoughts.

Presently I’m doing sidequest mop-up post-Barren Temple, for reference:

So just to get this overall out of the way, I am legitimately fascinated by the differences between NIER and Replicant. This is something I picked up on when I played RepliCant to grab footage for my LP, but given my extremely limited understanding of Japanese all I could get was the tone between characters and to my unpracticed ear they sounded pretty different. I always assumed that Weiss was somehow even more condescending to Brother and hah hah, wow. Even kind of expecting the dialogue and delivery differences I was not prepared for some of the dialogue and delivery differences. Weiss just straight-up insulting BroNier on the regular, not even doing sarcastic eye-rolls like he does with Papa. I don’t remember the exact line that set me off but somewhere in the Barren Temple I was just laughing my ass off at how much of a dick Weiss is.

Thought the ‘miracles’ conversation in the Junk Heap was interesting, too. I remember Papa Nier telling Weiss to stuff it because ‘those kids need a miracle’ and Weiss kind of backs down-- obviously doesn’t believe it, but he knows better than to push. And Brother tries but Weiss is just not having this optimism bullshit. Little things, but the tenor of the relationship is definitely different.

One of the more interesting aspects early on is the way the Lunar Tear is treated. Obviously I don’t know if this was part of the original game or a script adjustment, but Brother talking about the Tear as a source of money as opposed to Father saying it can grant wishes was interesting. Maybe it was to justify that Kaine just has a whole necklace of the damn things and therefore it’s rare but not literally magic, but it always sounded like it was just meant to be taken as a myth to me anyway. Then again, it’s established in the Grimoire that Brother has a fixation specifically on making money so he can support himself and Yonah (versus Papa Nier, who has obviously already established himself as an adult rather than a kid still figuring things out and hoping that enough money will solve all their problems).

Where the dialogue doesn’t diverge is interesting, too. Mostly I’m talking about the scene after defeating Hook. I always found Papa Nier exclaiming “You’re going to live, Kaine!” and “Yes, we’re friends now!” to be obvious holdovers from a younger protagonist just goddamn hilarious when Papa Nier is saying them. They’re still really funny with Brother Nier but just remembering Papa Nier doing the exact same delivery in his deep, manly voice just re-elevated the whole scene into comedy gold.

All of that is really why I was interested in getting the game so already my money is well spent. But there’s some other stuff:

They butchered the OST! ...or so people keep telling me on Youtube. I admit I do think the re-orchestrations is largely inferior to the original (although there are some that are at least as good in a different way, and whatever they did to The Lost Forest -- which was one of my least favorite tracks in the original -- I really enjoy) but I wouldn’t call it a butchering and I highly suspect that if I didn’t have the eleven years of the original OST and its association within the game itself I wouldn’t bat an eye, it still all sounds great.

Also, a weird observation, but I found that the soundtrack sounds much better coming out of the TV speakers than through headphones. I’m not sure if somehow it was optimized for play through external speakers, or maybe just not hearing the added orchestration right up against my eardrums, but when I went to the Lost Shrine with headphones on I was admittedly disappointed, but going to it again and listening through the TV it worked significantly better.

(I’m not sure if this is necessarily a factor, but the booklet in the White Snow edition mentions that the new soundtrack was all studio mixed rather than having the individual tracks layered. While I don’t think that would have an impact on music quality it almost definitely makes a difference in the way it’s produced.)

I miss chest-thrusting to double jump Movement overall feels much more refined and polished. It’s not as slick as Automata, but it definitely feels like a natural evolution of the original game, and as an apologist for NIER’s combat I can appreciate that. A little more responsive, I appreciate being able to move while casting magic, and it still has a bit of a crunch behind weapon impact (although I wish it felt a bit heavier).

But goodness I miss the stupid animation for double-jumping. I mean sure, an aerial somersault is a classic indication of a double jump, but I just loved that Nier would chest-thrust so hard he would break the laws of physics and ascend higher.

It also feels a bit like the aerial dodge was nerfed for movement purposes? I really don’t feel as much horizontal thrust to get a running start after diving off the Library balcony.

Fully voiced? Fully voiced?! I knew this was happening but I totally forgot until the NPC villagers started talking to me! Some of the incidental deliveries are a bit awkward, but as somebody whose glasses prescription is a decade out of date I appreciate this immensely.

The item guy in Seafront just being from the goddamn Bronx is a thing of beauty.

BroNier does fit into the Village better. One of the little details I love in the game is that each bit of civilization has its own style. The maps aren’t large enough to really convey how long travel takes, but the different styles between the Village and Seafront just kind of helped to ‘place’ the characters in a really neat, subtle way (Emil’s sash identifies him as ‘belonging to’ Seafront, which is actually pertinent when you get that sidequest where you find the letter from his science-mom in town! I assume she always wore a kicky sash when she went to work in the underground child torture bunker.)

Facade obviously also has their own style, but it’s... hard not to appreciate.

Papa Nier’s dress doesn’t really ‘place’ him anywhere, which doesn’t feel weird for the main character, and I feel like it’s implied that he isn’t really from the Village in a meaningful way anyway and kind of drifted in at some point after Yonah had been born. But younger Brother Nier is actually wearing the local fashion and it’s a neat little detail that I didn’t appreciate back when I played PS3 RepliCant. (Probably because I didn’t bother talking to any NPCs what with not being able to read the dialogue, so I never really had him standing next to anybody for long enough to process.) Older Brother Nier takes on a very different outfit that winds up displacing him from the rest of the Village (and any other towns), which is a pretty nice visual metaphor, too.

I have a confession to make. I still enjoy fishing in this game.

Yeah I said it. I’ll say it again too-- I like the fishing minigame. I happily blitzed through the Fisherman’s available Gambits, and then just caught five sharks while I was hanging out, and then also caught the sandfish ahead of time, and also wound up with a half-ton giant catfish (??!?) trying to remember where the black bass are located.

Cart me away.

Related but I laughed far too hard when the fisherman says “the WESTERN beach”. I wonder why they changed that line. I just can’t imagine.

And those seals. Always a delight to go to early Seafront and just plant yourself between a couple of seals. Watch the ocean. Listen to the music and the waves. Watch the seals lazily roll around and make cute seal barks.

The most depressing thing about the timeskip is losing those seals.

My garden--! The gardening timeskip exploit was fixed due to a difference in PS4 architecture. :/ I know there’s still an exploit involving time zones but I didn’t go in knowing that and I was horrified when I adjusted the system clock only to find my crops weren’t growing. Is Legendary Gardener still a trophy? Fffffuuuuu

My BARREN TEMPLE. The Barren Temple is, to me, a legitimately funny dungeon, between Sechs getting himself abducted, Kaine getting herself abducted and Nier and Weiss just sighing in resignation, and the whole concept of the rules-based challenges. And the adjustment they made to the Prince’s dialogue before you meet him is so good-- the original felt a little disjointed and felt like it ended with the Prince being confused. It was still funny, but here Weiss just gives zero fucks about insulting the Prince (and presumably knows that’s exactly who he’s talking to) and it’s just great.

And I say all of that because I just died laughing when I got to the infamous Racing Wolf room and saw they outlawed evasion.

Evasion works differently in this game anyway so you wouldn’t have really been able to do the same trick before (dodge roll; in the original release you would dodge roll forward by tapping the button, but a default evasion has you backstep. Of course you could arrange BroNier to face away from the trap and then evade, but it would be significantly dicier, and I feel like the pattern on the shots was awkward enough that you wouldn’t have an opening in the second row (and probably would’ve have dodged your ass right into the bullets anyway). But just that they acknowledged the trick and then flipped you off with it was amazing. Aggravating? My amusement far outweighed my frustration since the Defend trick was still solid.

It also felt like more rooms outlawed jumping? That I can’t corroborate (I was really focusing on whether they did something to Racing Wolf, which is of course the most traumatic of the rooms) but I feel like it wasn’t as easy to cheese some of those rooms as it had been previously.

Dark Blast is amazing. Cheesed the shit out of the actual ‘Evasive Mouse’ room, though. I remember having some difficulties when the miniboss shows up since you can’t dodge out of the way of his lava pillar attack, but I just circle-strafed with Dark Blast and he died comically quickly.

This is actually more relevant to the magic as a whole, but in the time since I first played NIER (so... probably the time I fifth played NIER) I learned more about the little intracacies of the magic system. Like, really little intricacies, like how you can use magic with just a button tap and it actually has different effects... like Dark Blast dealing significantly more damage. It’s not as easy as just holding down the button and getting the multi-shot off the charge, but for a single enemy like that just rapid-fire tapping the button chews through the lifebar.

This tap strategy is really appreciated for Dark Hand (forward thrust punch) and Dark Lance (which is even better thanks to the game’s lock-assist-- a much appreciated quality-of-life adjustment), and I look forward to getting Dark Execution because of its fast activation feature (spreading the lances in a forward cone in front of you, extremely useful for crowd control when you can’t afford to wait for Execution to charge up).

Fragile Delivery still sucks. I don’t know why I had such a terrible time with the first Fragile Delivery but I broke that... Ming vase or whatever you’re delivering half a dozen times. Send that guy a steel rug instead, Guard #3, he is not worth whatever piece of art you had me destroy six times.

And the game still holds up. This is probably a ‘needless to say’ thing but yeah, this is still a great game. I always have a little bit of apprehension going back to something I loved just in case there’s a rose-colored effect going on. Not that I really expected that to happen with this game (I’ve played NIER recently enough that I didn’t think nostalgia would blind me) but, you know, always a possibility.

(That and that the remaster would be... perhaps of dubious quality. It happens.)

Nope! Still engaging. Still charming. I’m always impressed to go back to this game with all the knowledge of its inevitable misery and remember that it’s also just plain funny. NIER is one of those games that’s just like I remember it but better every time I go back to it.

I’m so glad that Automata did well enough to spur greater interest in this game. It really didn’t get the chance it deserved back in 2010 and now it’s topping some of the sales charts. That’s fantastic.

Just... fantastic.

#NIER #NieR Replicant #Musings #Now I just need Threads of Fate remastered and my life is complete #SE don't do that I know you'll ruin it

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tinyboxxtink · 3 years

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“Helpless” *Part 3*

Ok, I got the 2nd dose of the CoVid Vaccine yesterday and it’s kicking my ASS, so I’m gonna blame the writing on that. I wasn’t even gonna do a chapter tonight but I can’t let my babies down!!!!

Please forgive me, I didn’t plan this story out as well. I don’t know how long it’s gonna go, I’m flailing, coming apart at the seams.

ANYWAY, ENJOY! 😂

Also for the record the micro expression thing is a real thing, there was a whole show about it! #LieToMe

This story is just an excuse to exploit my fascination with it. 😅 #jk

Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

My Lovelies:

@wanniiieeee

@word-scribbless

@chasingeverybreakingwave

After greeting your new guests, you took their drink orders and handed them two menus, explaining the specials. You glanced over to see Rafael furiously scribbling notes down on his legal pad; SUPER.

“....How’s the Cesar salad here, dear?” the older woman of the couple asked.

“It’s great-- really--” you were explaining when you caught Rafael’s eye when he glanced up to look at you. He smiled, and you thought your knees would give out.

“Amazing,” you sighed in a dreamy wisp.

“Really? That good, huh?” The woman glanced over to where you had been looking. Rafael quickly looked elsewhere, then sipped his scotch and continued writing.

“Well he looks yummy too,” She winked, as her husband looked up from his menu with a wary eye.

“I’ll be back with your drinks,” you nodded and quickly excused yourself to make their drinks. After quickly mixing and serving them, you returned to Rafael who was now grinning from ear to ear.

“Are you going to actually order, or…?” You asked, leaning your elbows on the bar across from him.

“In a minute, sure. FIRST, you answer some questions, camarera--” You gave him a face. “It means waitress,”

“Right...cute,” you rolled your eyes, but inside you were melting. Anything spanish coming out of that man’s mouth sounded like straight porn.

“But, I’m not just going to sit here and let you interrogate me, counselor,” you smirked. “Tit for tat-- you ask me one, I’ll ask you one. And remember, I’ll know if you’re lying,” you wagged your eyebrows at him.

“Well that’s just unfair, don’t you think? You could tell me anything and I’d believe you,” he argued.

“Oh really? Because I look that innocent?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re that pretty,” he winked, causing your cheeks to flush hot. Damn, he was good.

“Alright alright, down boy,” you tried playing it off like you weren’t mentally squealing like a 12 year old. “First question?”

“What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“Excuse you? How old do you think I am?!” You didn’t know whether to be insulted or flattered. You had always been told you looked young for your age, but you didn’t want him thinking you were barely jailbait or something. WAIT, was that him making sure you weren’t?

“Why don’t you ask me my age, counselor? Wouldn’t that be easier?”

“Asking a woman’s age is the equivalent of asking to get punched in the nuts,” he chuckled.

“True. Well I’m older than 21 but younger than 40,” you smirked.

“So...22 then?” He winked.

“Whatever you want, papi,” you winked back, causing his eyes to glisten with arousal.

“But to answer your actual question, I want to work in law someday,” you added, turning his amorous eyes to curious ones.

“Really? Because of me?”

“Oh my GOD, could you be any more narcissistic?” you scoffed.

“I could be, most definitely yes,” he nodded.

“NO, believe it or not my world doesn’t revolve around you; in fact until yesterday you were just ‘tie guy’,”

“Tie guy?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Your ties. They are very...intricate,” you nodded to the tie he was currently wearing. To your surprise, he nervously adjusted it and looked down, as if he was embarrassed by his love for flamboyant ties.

“Not in a bad way, I like them a lot. Especially when they match your suspenders,” as soon as the words left your mouth, you heard the “fatal attraction” in them.

“Okay see how is this fair, you clearly know much more about me than I know about you,” You fanned yourself, your skin was going to be permanently burned red from this entire conversation.

“Yes but to be fair you just keep revealing that information yourself, and it’s really only facts about myself, just with a stalker’s viewpoint,” he quickly recovered from his own insecurities once again, reveling in your skill of self destruction.

“ANYWAY-- No, not because of you. I’ve just been fascinated with the micro expression thing since I was a teenager, and I think if it hasn't been already introduced as tactics for law enforcement, it definitely should be. Having human lie detectors on hand would be very beneficial, don’t you think?”

“You do have a point,” he nodded. “If it was a real thing,” he rolled his eyes.

“It IS! Alright you know what-- new game,” You slammed the bar with your hands defensively..

“You tell me facts about yourself and I’ll tell you if you’re lying,”

“Whoa whoa whoa, I never agreed to that,” Rafael shook his head.

“Well you can agree now or I can keep waiting on other people, counselor,”

“...Alright, fine. But it goes both ways,”

“Oh you think you can tell when I’m lying?” You dared him.

“If I really try, sure. I am a lawyer,”

“Alright....fine.”

“So what are the terms of this game?”

“Hmmmm…..if I win, you have to mention this science--”

“Voodoo”

“SCIENCE, to your higher ups. Or someone who could do something with it,” you held out your hand.

“Alright...fine. And when I win, I eat free here for a week.” he smirked.

“WHAT? No no no, that shit will come out of my pocket, jackass,” You winced after the insult came out, you didn’t know what it was about him that caused such flippancy.

“...You know I’ve never been in a conversation with someone insulting me this much,” he chuckled.

“....Maybe not to your face,” You gave him a tongue-in-cheek smile.

“Touché…” he chuckled, twirling his pen between his fingers.

“Alright fine, if I win, you have dinner with me next week. Anywhere but here,” he grinned, amused at the shell shocked look on your face. You quickly shook it off and tried to play it cool.

“....You know I’ve never been in a conversation with a guy who worked this hard just to ask me out,”

“Oh please, I could’ve asked you to follow me home last night and you would’ve done it,” he smirked, causing you to hit him with feigned protest.

“But what fun would that be?” he asked coyly, biting his lip.

“ORDER UP!” You heard the kitchen call your order.

“Shit...I’ll be right back,” You took Rafael’s glass and filled it back up, sliding it back to him.

“Trying to get me drunk?” He gave you a look.

“More like trying for a bigger tip,” you giggled, going back for the food.

---

You grabbed your other guests dinner and refilled their drinks, making sure they were taken care of for a while before returning to Rafael to start your new game.

“Alright….so first question: Any brothers or sisters?” you started before he could think of a question.

“One brother two sisters,” he replied with a straight face.

“NOPE. Lie. Straight out of the gate, really, counselor?!”

“Oh please, how could you know that,” he rolled his eyes.

“Please, with that ego, you’re definitely an only child.” You both laughed, he nodded.

“Alright, same question,”

“8 brothers, 7 sisters,”

“Oh now THAT’S a load of bullshit! In New York City? No way,”

“Well, technically. I was raised in a group home-- orphan,”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he went for your hand, but you shook it off.

“Not a big deal, moving on,”

“Hey--” he took your hand this time. “For what it’s worth, having parents isn’t exactly great either,”

Hint of a sad tone, a micro anger expression at the word ‘parents’.

“...Mom or dad?”

“What?”

Eye twitch at the mention of “dad”.

“What did your dad do?”

“Wha-- what is happening? What are you doing?” his eyes darted back and forth between yours trying to figure you out.

“I told you, science,”

“Well STOP, whatever it is!” he dropped your hand and leaned back defensively.

Wow, something really must have gone down with his dad.

“Okay...sorry, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to turn off,” you apologized, he relaxed back in his stool. The awkward silence now made you want to run right out of the restaurant.

“We don’t have to play anymore, I’ll tell you whatever you want,”

“No no, it’s my fault. I thought you were full of shit until that just happened,” he muttered with half a laugh.

“Oh, yeah then totally your fault,” you tried to laugh it off, he gave you a small smile. He was clearly still shaken up by the mention of his father, or the fact that you knew something about it out of thin air.

“Seriously, we can--”

“What about my dad?” he interrupted you.

“What?”

“ What do you know about my dad?” he asked, a serious expression on his face.

“Wha--- I’m not actually a psychic, Rafael. I just noticed your eye twitch when I mentioned the word dad, indicating some stress associated with it. SCIENCE, not magic,” you made “magic” motions with your fingers.

“I mean for all I know you could just hate your daddy because he didn’t buy you a yacht when you were a kid,” you joked; a glance of shame.

“...But you didn’t grow up with money, did you?” You couldn’t help yourself.

“....Seriously, I’ll leave,” he dropped his pen.

“Sorry. SORRY. Okay fine fine um-- I grew up in Jersey, in a tiny house in a room shared by five girls, it was like living in a closet. My foster parents only wanted the paychecks for each kid, so we basically raised each other. I made friends with Arianna who was also in the system when I got to high school, and as soon as we turned 18 we took off for the city, and we’ve been living out of our car for years,” you hoped your self deprecating life story negated whatever shit went down with his dad.

“....How much of that is true?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay so we live in a studio apartment, but we did live out of our car for a year,”

“....I grew up in the barrio,” he finally spoke after a long pause.

“I assume that’s like the Mexican ghetto?”

“CUBAN,” he was clearly offended.

“Right. Sorry,” you bit your lip, knowing there was no way you’d be able to dig out the stiletto wedged in your mouth.

“I love my mom, she did the best she could. And my abuela is the sweetest woman in the world. But my dad…” he rolled his eyes, his knuckles slightly curled at the mention of his father.

“....He’s dead now, so it’s irrelevant,” he shrugged uncomfortably.

“Right. Yeah no, sure,” this time you placed a hand over his.

“Miss, can we get a dessert menu please?” You heard the woman from the other end of the bar calling for you.

“I um-- I gotta--” you motioned between the couple and the back.

“Right-- hey um, do you think I could get my usual?” He asked softly, his cocky demeanor diminished.

“Y-Yeah! Of course, yeah I’ll be right back,” you smiled awkwardly at him and bolted to the kitchen.

For fuck’s sake, could you be any more awkward? This is why you didn’t have friends; people don’t want their lives being read on their faces.

It’s fine, you’re fine. You’ll just fix it when you come back….

#rafael barba #rafael barba x you #rafael barba x reader #rafael barba imagine #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #law and order svu fanfiction

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thexgrayxlady · 3 years

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Notes: This is a purely self-indulgent and very lighthearted AU and if I’m the only one who is enjoying themselves with it, that’s all that really matters. TBCH I’m not sure where I’m going with it and I know this isn’t very good or perfectly in character, but I’m having a good time and it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, so I’m okay with it if I’m just writing a messy little crash into hello.

The Universe Won’t Wait for You

Outside the ruined temple, dark clouds gathered and howling winds carried the metallic tang of summer storms. Heady incense drifted from inside, where the flicker of braziers cast statues of forgotten gods in stark chiaroscuro. Yet, under the wind and crackle of flames, the air hung still and silent, charged with the promise of lightning.

The jungle crept up around the ancient stones. Gnarled vines threatened to drag the crumbling archway back into its depths. Fragments of cracked and chipping mosaics peered through the leaves, their tiles scattered across the floor with the trees’ detritus.

The roof had long since caved in and the once gilt friezes lining the main hall were now washed almost smooth. The faceless figures posed in the uncanny silence, leading the way to the sanctuary.

At the altar, a group of very annoyed people stood over the unconscious leader of a dragon cult and his scattered cards, having narrowly averted the end of the world for the third time in as many months. The timing was inconvenient for everybody involved and it was universally agreed upon that it would have been better if these assholes had waited until next weekend to try and destroy the world.

“So if we beat the megalomaniac of the week, why isn’t the portal going away?” Tea asked, vaguely gesturing to the swirling silvery distortion above the altar.

“I keep telling you nerds it’s not a portal.” Although against his will and his better judgement, the geek squad had grown on Seto Kaiba like E. coli on room temperature meat, he would still sooner saw off his own hands with a rusty spoon than admit it.

“We could always leave it alone,” Bakura said, disdainfully looking over one of the cultist’s discarded scrolls before rerolling it. “His Latin was terrible. It probably won’t do anything.”

“It won’t do anything because it’s a not a portal.” Their group would have it found it infinitely more worrying if he didn’t insist that the latest near apocalypse had a logical explanation. As of late, he’d settled on saying that anything he couldn’t immediately explain wasn’t magic, just science they didn’t understand yet. Everyone might have appreciated this a bit more if not for how often they had to deal with the fallout of his attempts to understand the science. “Watch.”

He picked up one of the scattered cards (rare, but only good for niche dragon decks and he would notadmit that he would have found this clown’s cards useful) and tossed it towards the floating mass. It passed through without incident and collided with the back wall.

“Wheeler could make something more convincing.” He rolled his eyes. This entire escapade had been a nuisance. He still wasn’t sure how he’d been talked into it. The others certainly hadn’t just mentioned that they needed a ride.

“Yeah, these guys tried to take our dragons cards and dragged us out here to show us some crappy holograms,” Joey replied.

“You would believe a bunch of delusional lunatics.”

Yugi paused checking on the cult leader and decided to head this off before it became serious.

“Guys, stop fighting!” he said, his voice quiet and gentle, yet brokering very little argument. When he realized that Kaiba was gearing up for an argument, he added, “You’re wasting time and the sooner we figure this thing out, the sooner we can leave.”

“Whatever,” he said, turning dramatically, letting his coat flare behind him. “I’m going to figure out what’s going on because some of us have jobs to get back to.”

“You’re self-employed!” the blond shot after him.

While he examined a pile of rubble on the far wall for a projector or an off switch, the others looked over the altar and scrolls. He was just about to shift some stones out of the way when lightning split the sky.

The portal flared and spun wildly. Roaring thunder followed close behind and a glowing thing shot from the portal before it collapsed upon itself as if it had never existed.

“Kaiba look out!” Yugi shouted. “That thing’s headed straight for…”

“It’s a hologram,” he shouted back, gesturing dismissively at the thing barreling towards him without actually looking at it. “It’s not like it can hurt…”

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, his ears ringing, and struggling for a full breath.

When he regained enough sense to figure out what was going on around him, he realized that his arms were wrapped around something warm and solid. The thing thrummed under his hands, like working on an ungrounded circuit. He came around to a curtain of white and a pair of horribly familiar blue eyes.

The woman shot back, her fingers splayed across his chest, her face contorting in stunned confusion. She started to speak, her voice raspy and quiet, stumbling over words in a language he didn’t understand. Yet even without knowing the words, he got the sentiment.

“What. The. Fuck.”

This couldn’t be real. She couldn’t be real. He must have cracked his head when he hit the ground. She had to be a hallucination or a hologram or…he didn’t know, he couldn’t think clearly enough to figure out what specific kind of nonsense was going on.

Somewhere off in the distance, the nerds said something, but it was like listening under water. And as much as he wanted to shout at them to shut up so he could focus, the words stuck in his throat.

He knew her. From that trip to Egypt. Her name was…

No. No.

This wasn’t happening. The world didn’t work this way. People did not just fall out of holes in the sky. He’d been dragged kicking and screaming into accepting that maybe the supernatural bullshit that followed him around possibly had some merit, but thiswas a step too far.

None of this made any sense. Kis…She was impossible. You couldn’t just fling someone through space and time with badly mangled Latin. It took energy. It took machinery. Complex math, things that went beep, big red buttons that gave the nerds heart attacks when he pushed them.

(But these idiots were trying to summon a dragon, weren’t they?)

This violated so many different laws of physics. There must be another explanation. He just had to keep calm and think of it. His heart hammered against his chest. Every time he almost had a grasp on this, he caught her eyes, and any theory beyond rote denial slipped away.

She couldn’t be real. He’d barely thought of her since that trip. Whatever, whoever, she was, it was the past. It didn’t matter. She didn’t matter. He had to focus on figuring out how the hell some loser cultists managed time travel with some incense and dead lizards, no if they managed time travel some incense and dead lizards, when, despite his disregard for the laws of men and gods, even he was still mostly beholden to thermodynamics.

They probably hadn’t. There had to be something in the incense.

Still, the logical part of his brain told him that even his best holograms didn’t feel this real and there was no logical way they knew what she looked like. Her heartbeat fluttered under his hands. She smelled like prison grime and ozone and petrichor.

So a hallucination then. But everyone else kept talking. He still couldn’t really hear them, but maybe they could see her too. Or that was just another facet of his concussed delusion. But if this was a hallucination, then why couldn’t he understand her? He’d never hallucinated in a language he didn’t understand before.

Not a hologram. Not a hallucination. Where did that leave him? Flat on his back on a cold stone floor with a dead woman straddling his waist and the growing certainty that he would never live this down.

Again, she leaned in, her head tilted to the side. Time slowed as she brought a hand to his face and his heart beat too steady to be truly calm as she studied him. She was so small. He could easily throw her off and get away, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even look away as the world shrank down to just the two of them.

She didn’t look quite the same as in the memory. She didn’t seem half so fragile. Her long, pale hair was tangled and her face prematurely lined. Her dress was more a collection of mismatched patches than an actual garment. Bruises and scars bloomed along her arms and collarbone amid patches of thick, almost scaly looking skin.

He wondered if the memory, vision, whatever it was, was accurate. How much of what he knew about her was true? How much had been made up by someone who’d never met her to fit her role in the game? Did it even matter? He was his own person, why should he care about her just because of a supposed connection to the Blue Eyes White Dragon?

Yet despite everything going on, she seemed alert and curious, determined to figure out what exactly just happened, whereas he had to remind himself to keep breathing.

Just before her rough, calloused fingers brushed his jaw, a jolt of static leapt between them. She reeled back, her pupils snapping into narrow slits. Thin, cracking lips curled back over sharp teeth in an inhuman hiss. Her shoulders flexed and he half expected wings to unfurl from her back.

Then she must have caught sight of the others because she shrank back, trembling. A horrible charge built under his hands. He willed himself move just enough to let go.

She scrambled away, breathing in sharp, hissing gasps. Upon reaching the far wall, she shot up a crumbling pillar and crouched as far back on the bottom ledge of a frieze as she could manage and stared down in horror as the first few drops of rain fell through the broken ceiling.

He stared back, the concussed or drugged or shocked daze lifting just enough to drag himself to a sitting position.

She was impossible. But her eyes were electric bright and she’d felt like a damn live wire in his hands. He hadn’t figured out the physics behind this yet, but he understood one thing.

Kisara was very real.

#Gray writes stuff #Kisara #Blueshipping #seto kaiba #AU: this might as well happen #I know this isn't that good but it's been so long since i've finished anything IDGAF #I'm effectively posting a warm up piece but i'm kind of alright with it #also kaiba is exactly what im looking for in a cosmic chewtoy

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vagrantblvrd · 3 years

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Okay, so I can’t stop thinking about the AU where Jaskier somehow ends up working in a Geek Squad-esque department and has to deal with these witchers who bring in mangled/otherwise destroyed phones and the whatnot AU?

Like, the witchers aren’t completely technologically impaired right because the thing about living through who knows how many innovations and whatnot over the years but they really don’t make stuff the way they used to.

(Jaskier maybe sit through a semi-rant on the subject a time or two while processing whatnot for the witchers who have brought him yet another mangled bit of tech orth a fair bit of money and did he know they used to make them of sturdier stuff???)

Anyway.

Geralt is Geralt, all hm’s and hm’s and usually :( although there have been moments of >:( and an especially rare :| which is the closest to the teeny tiny smile Jaskier gets on a good day or when he says something that amuses Geralt enough to visibly show it. (An actual :) is something to be treasured for days afterward and gets Jaskier gentle ribbing from his co-workers because his relationship with the witchers and Geralt in particular is high entertainment for them, but yes.)

Lambert is a delightful asshole who came in all >:(((((((((( after Geralt mentioned there was a new face in the Geek Squad-esque group, one who got him a new phone in spite of the most recently mangled one being out of warranty and suchlike. Didn’t even ask why it smelled of swamp water and may or may not have had bits of swamp...gunk in its insides and anyway.

Jaskier clearly made an impression on Geralt and he’s like but why, though, and comes in intending to be That Customer - and indeed is through the entire ordeal.

Makes Jaskier go over the fine print in the warranty and whatnot when he brings in some horribly mangled bit of shiny tech - a tablet or some such that clearly cannot be saved and is just barely under warranty. A day later and he’d be out of luck, right?

And while it’s covered by the warranty it’s also just old enough the store doesn’t carry it anymore - been discontinued or whatever - which should be fine, right? Jaskier can set Lambert up with the newest model or other equivalent and everything should be fine, but no, no.

Lambert gets this glint in his eye and is like, oh, I’m not going to make things that easy for you, buddy, and goes off on this...whatever about how he liked the version he had - doesn’t want or need the added features on the new one even though they actually are pretty nice, just because he can.

And of course he came in on one of the days Jaskier’s usual supervisor is off and the one who’s had it out for Jaskier since day one is working. Positive Jaskier has done nothing to deserve being moved from overnight stocker to Geek Squad-esque team member and looking for the smallest reason to get him fired. (Or at least kicked back to overnight stocker and then fired for some other reason no one can call them on.)

This supervisor who is hovering, just waiting for Jaskier’s Retail Voice and whatnot to slip so they can pounce and Lambert might not know the details about it all, but it’s pretty damn obvious the supervisor doesn’t like Jaskier.

So he’s like, “Okay, but...” whenever Jaskier brings up a new avenue of convincing the asshole to just say he’ll take the new tablet and gtfo already, pls you asshole, pleasant smile on his face and gritting his teeth the whole time.

Just as the supervisor has had enough of watching Jaskier dealing with this stubborn customer and clearly failing to meet their needs, Lambert is like “Well, I really did like my old tablet, but I suppose this one you’ve been trying to sell me on for nearly half an hour will be adequate, probably,” like Jaskier’s got him at gunpoint or something.

Jaskier is like oh, excellent, sir, what a wonderful choice sir, you are totally my favorite customer sir!!!! :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD while also being like >:(((((((((((((((((( to Lamert’s clear amusement and whatnot.

After the deal is done and the bastard’s on his way out, Jaskier is like !!! when he sees Lambert stop in front of the assole!supervisor sure he’s going to complain about Jaskier. To his surprise though, Lambert’s just, all “Oh, he was so helpful! Answered all my questions!” and so on and both Jaskier and the asshole!supervisor are taken aback because that was not what they were expecting?

And then Lambert’s like “I only want to deal with him when I come in here,” to which Jaskier is ah, okay because he gets Lambert’s game now, and the supervisor is just okay, well, I have no control over that unless you come in on days he’s working, but you can bet I’mm make sure it happens if you do, haha.

Which more or less seals Jaskier’s fate on that angle, and absolutely what Lambert intended, and anyway, asshole.

Later on, after they’ve had enough such encounters that Lambert isn’t suspicious of this oddly helpful person at the store where they buy most of their consumer electronics he’s like, >:DDDDDDDDDDDDDD when he comes in nd Jaskier’s like >:(((((((((((((((((((( if you really wanted to help me out here with the asshole!supervisor you’d buy an extended warranty or whatever and Lambert rolls his eyes and scoffs because those are scams and he’s not an idiot, and anyway, he knows Jaskier doesn’ really want to shank him out back behind the store with a rusty knife the way he threatened one time because Lambert is a delight, okay, an utter delight.

Jaskier side-eyes him so hard for that and is like, oh????? So then Lambert won’t mind meeting him out back on his break? Asking for a friend, you know, no other reason. Strangely, Lambert does not.

(Mostly because of that time Geralt fondly told the others about Jaskier shanking a monster out back by the store’s loading dock when Geralt was a little bit bleeding out and in a bad spot and anyway, yeah, no, thanks, Lambert wasn’t born yesterday okay.)

But you know who is an actual delight that Jaskier loves to see come into the store?

Aside from Geralt???

Eskel.

The man is sweet and polite and holds actual conversations (not a slight against Geralt by any means, it’s just. Sometimes it’s nice to talk to someone at work who isn’t a coworker or a horrible customer and so on) and otherwise doesn’t give Jaskier headaches.

(Though there was the one night after closing and rare time when the store would be clsoed the next day for a holiday or whatever so no night crew coming in. Jaskier was trying to get his car to start when Eskel showed up all bloody and half-dead and Jaskier was closest. Also his phone was broken and no way to contact Geralt or anyone else and how was Jaskier at first aid, asking for a friend and all.)

Anyway.

Jaskier’s favorite encounter with Eskel at work is when he calls Jaskier asking if he can help with a tech issue. Mangled laptop and files he wants to get off the harddrive you know, but ~sensitive file that have to do with the witchers and their work.

They all pretend Jaskier knows absolutely nothing about any of it, even though he’s patched all of them up at some point or they’ve saved his life from some monster or other and there really shouldn’t be any pretense about it all?

AND YET.

It’s one of those days where work is slow and the other Geek Squad-esque people are out on house calls and won’t be back for a few hours or called out sick or whatever.

And this, okay, this is something Jaskier convinced one of them to teach him or he taught himself through Google and YouTube and anyway, he can do the file transfer magic stuff for Eskel, no problem.

Tells him as such and to come by before anyone gets back from the calls so he can handle it himself without anyone looking on and all, so he does, right?

Jaskier lets Eskel in the back room with him while he works, and they have a nice little chat and catch up on what’s new in their lives and all that.

Jaskier is like oh, ew, gross because some of the files he salvages for Eskel are photo documentations of past hunts - for science!!1! - but also ooh, what was that hunt like???

(Accidentally clicks on some or some other reason for him seeing what the files are or just file names and anyway, shhhh, let me have this.)

Because curiosity and also songs and Geralt enjoys being difficult on purpose and Jaskier’s never sure how much Lambert tells him is complete bullshit, and anyway. Eskel’s the nice one. Usually.

Also, though, also.

There are so many photos of Geralt and Lambert, Vesemir and Ciri and certain sorceresses and suchlike, and it’s adorable and sweet and wholly expected?

BUT.

To Jaskier’s forever joy and delight there are at least two entire album’s worth of freaking goat pictures.

(Well, okay, goat and horse and whatever other animals these withcers have in their lives and so on.)

It’s adorable as hell and Jaskier makes these little squeaky noises of pure awww at the sight of them, okay, because Lil Bleater and whatever little terrors Eskel has known and clearly adores.

He’s like staring straight ahead and all everything’s fine and normal and whatnot while Jaskier is like omg and she’s so cute and omg Eskel, omg.)

Withcers may not be able to blush or whatever, but you can sure as hell bet he would have been blushing up a damned storm if he could and Jaskier also knows that and is just.

Charmed, okay, he is utterly charmed by this big soft dork and swears he won’t tell anyone even though the people who matter obviously know as well, and anyway, anyway, he gets this soft little smile for it and his heart is like oh, oh no, because Jaskier’s kind of gone on these idiot witchers okay.

(After the discovery of the goat pictures Eskel starts sending new ones to Jaskier who always gets that look people get when presented with adorable pictures of animals and this warm squishy feeling because oh, oh no, indeed and anyway, yes, because idk what pairings/ships i even want this to be anymore but just soft feelings all over the place even with Lambert, the bastard. XD)

#witcher nonsense #technically not a fic #vagrant fic #jaskier's adventures in retail au #long post #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#the witcher #pairings? ships? idk anymore friends pick your own i guess???#geralt x jaskier #eskel x jaskier #mayyybe lambert x jaskier #all of the above???#idk anymore #all jaskier knows is everyone thinks he's the wither whisperer #and he's like lolol omg no #they're all assholes #of varying degrees on different days #eskel's the least assholish one #usually #and lambert's an asshole all day every day #but yeah no #he's fully lost control of his life #and they're to blame for it #he has no idea what to expect when vesesmir comes in #but all he does is take one look at this poor bastard who has to deal with his idiot kids #and is like #would you like to know how to keep them from running roughshod over you?#to which jaskier is like dear god yes #so jaskier has running appointment for brunch with vesemir and other assorted asshole wranglers every weekend #it's lovely

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thecursedhellblazer · 3 years

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romantic headcanons.

name: John Constantine alias: Hellblazer, ConJob, The Laughing Magician, The World’s Greatest Con Man, El Diablo, The Constant One gender: male sexual orientation: pansexual romantic orientation: demiromantic

preferred pet names: John pretty much plays along with whatever nickname his partner(s) decide to use for him, from “classic” ones to whatever thing the people he’s seeing might have come up with. This means that even insults can become pet names, when used by his current partner, no matter how bad they can get. relationship status: single / verse dependant (I currently have a verse in which he’s building a poly relationship, another in which he’s (un)officially dating but it might get more than official at some point, and one in which he has a proper stable boyfriend)

opinion on true love: John believes that a kind of love that comes close to be defined as such exists. He has experience a similar feeling in person a few times (with Nick and Zatanna, with Kit). However, because of his past experiences, he isn’t very confident on the fact that he’ll ever manage to find a way to keep that sort of relationship going. The closer someone gets to him, the worse fate awaits ahead of them or the deeper he disappoints them. opinion on love at first sight: John believes in “attraction at first sight”, but not in love at first sight. That’s in part because getting attached is often not an option for him. When it comes to sex and romance, he prefers going for something casual, with few string attached. It’s it’s safer and less complicated, and it hurts less with things inevitably fall apart. So, he isn’t one to fall fast for people. He wouldn’t be able to even if he tried (with a few exceptions). how ‘romantic’ are they?: John can be a romantic, especially if it’s something that his partner(s) enjoy. Personally, he likes doing some traditional couple stuff, like going out for dinner, going to concerts, having a picnic or even just having an aimless stroll around holding hands. He likes trying to play the cook and cooking homemade meals...even if the results aren’t always stellar. So, when he really cares for someone (or he is in love) John is…a lot of things. He tries to be charming, confident, playful and appealing, and he wines and dines his partner(s) as much as they allow him to. However, he can also be a huge, sometimes sappy dork. He’d go to hell and back, literally too, to try and make his partner(s) happy (and that’s part of his idea of romance too).

ideal physical traits: John’s tastes when it comes to his partners’ physical appearances are, to say the least, variegated. Considering that he finds attractive beings from very different species, it’s hard to pinpoint what exactly draws him to someone, physically speaking. He has a certain preference for inhuman traits, especially if they could be somehow harmful for him (he finds the thrill of danger is too appealing for his sake). Another thing that he likes, in humans and non-humans alike, is physical strength. He likes someone who can crush him and hold him down, or who can put up a fight when he does that. ideal personality traits: John enjoys someone who can match his wits, who is cunning and can challenge him, keep him on his toes. He’s also attracted to people who can be too straightforward and who are strong-willed and determined, bold and not easily deterred, perhaps because those are all qualities someone needs to have to manage to stay around him for a prolonged amount of time. He’s also drawn to people who are fierce and passionate or have strong emotions, but can also keep an open mind. He can appreciate if his partner(s) have a kind, softer, perhaps even nurturing side, because, whether he wants to admit it or not, he tends to cling and find solace in such affections.

unattractive physical traits: Again, it’s just as hard to pinpoint what John might not like as it is to find specific physical traits that he found more attractive (I mean, at some point he had sex with a bunch of sentients organs, for the gods!). He’s open to give everyone and everything a try (as long as it’s consensual), though not all the experiences turn out to be pleasant. Those, he tends to avoid the second time. unattractive personality traits: Dullness, excessive ignorance or lack of smartness. Hypocrisy, because John might be a liar, but that kind of behaviour irks him to no end. People who are too pretentious, who have a too high idea of themselves without having a good reason to justify it. People who force themselves on others, in any way. Someone who’s too obsessive (because of bad past experiences) or too self-absorbed to spare the effort every relationship needs to work out.

do they have a type?: Yes and no. He has a preference for whoever checks most of the boxes when it comes to what he generally likes in a partner, but every case turns out to be different. It’s also true that most of his lovers, though, held some sort of power over him, be it because they are strong (physically or mentally or “magically) or because they for some reason have the upper hand in the relationship. Strong-willedness and ability to call him out on his bullshit are other recurrent traits. opinion of public affection: When he’s fond of someone, John can get very touchy-feely, if not straight out handsy, around them, no matter if they are alone or in public. He is very much open to PDA, but he restrains himself if his partner prefers avoid them. The same can’t be said for when they are in private, because then any excuse (and even the lack of one) is good to gets his hands on whoever he’s seeing.

favourite canon ship: Uuuh, I’m going to say Nick / John / Zatanna. We don’t see much of it in canon, aside from their tragic falling out, but I like to think that they had a good run before everything fell apart. John was obviously so very in love with them both, and the three of them balanced each other well and were a positive influence in each other’s life, even if at the same times they also tended to bring out the worst in each other. For all those reasons and more, I love the verse I’ve been building with @adventurepunks because it allows me to explore all the shades of their complicated relationship. I liked, even if not as much, John’s relationship with Kit. Though, I must say that I’m glad (for her) that it didn’t work out, because that wonderful woman deserves so much better than him (just as Zatanna). favourite non-canon ship: I have three main non-canon relationships. John / Demon John (which I write in my verse with @thedemonconstantine ) and that’s a pairing I also ship in general (meaning outside RPs). Then we have John / Oliver Queen, with @thegreenxrcher (and with her too I have a whole verse). Last but not least, John / Nick Sethson ( Devil OC written by @paradiseturnedhell). Each of this ships has its own peculiar appeal to me and I could write an essay for each of them, but I’ll spare you all x’D However, I want to make some special mentions too. I have build a wonderful friendships (with occasional benefits) with @obsessionsarenotforheroes and her Jessica. I’m developing a ship (or should I say shipS? xD How does it even work with Marc xD) with @fistofhnsw. John & @laughter-in-white‘s croptop J because their friends-with-benefits relationship is hilarious. And, finally, John and Koriand’r ( @blizzardmuses...‘cause they kissed twice “for science” so it counts...right???)

tagged by: @laughter-in-white & @paradiseturnedhell tagging: @thegreenxrcher (one of the demons?) @fistofhnsw @adventurepunks @blizzardmuses @elisethetraveller @goldentemplariumcrow @seekthedarknesswithin - & whoever wants to steal this !

#john constantine #hellblazer #(( mun's headcanons ))#* My reality is eleven tenths perception. * ::headcanons::

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thevindicativevordan · 4 years

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Why I Like Superman

This is a post I’ve been going over and over in my head, trying to suss out my feelings. The simple fact is I love Superman, and I have for as long as I can remember. I wore Superman pajamas as a kid. I watched cartoons like Superman: The Animated Series, Justice League, Legion of Superheroes, and was hyped as hell when he showed up on The Batman cartoon. I drew variations of the S-shield all over the sides of my school notebooks, and I tied a towel around my neck and pretended I could fly.

One of my favorite Xbox games to play was the Superman Returns tie-in game (remember those?), because it was the only game I could play that let me fly around, shooting off heat vision and freezing people with arctic breath. I still remember the opening that had you destroy asteroids, and being absolutely wowed as a kid by the big finale which had you slam into the largest asteroid at supersonic speed to destroy it. Took me forever to beat the Warworld arena level though because I didn’t know how to block.

Because there were no local comic shops near my home for me to go buy issues at (not that I even knew what a local comic shop was at the time), I kept up with his, and the rest of my favorite DC heroes adventures, via reading the DC wiki. I spent so much of my time waiting for my mom to get off the computer so I could go online and catch up that my parents installed parental blocks because they were worried about what I was doing.

In short he’s been a constant favorite of mine throughout childhood, through my teenage years, and straight on into adulthood. I never developed the dislike or distaste for him that some people did, and he never dropped out of the top spot for me like he did for others. There were times when he shared the top spot for me with Batman and Spider-Man, until One More Day wrecked my relationship with Spidey and I grew bored of the endless cycles of Batman being a dick to the Batfamily and then learning he needs them. But even throughout his lowest points (and God have there been so many of those in the last decade), he’s remained the top guy for me.

But why? I think it’s in part because of the type of genre he embodies. He is of course The Superhero, and he lives in the genre he founded, but he also lives in a type of optimistic science fiction genre that’s downright extinct nowadays. As a kid I was a massive science fiction fan, and my dad was friends with a guy who was also hugely into science fiction. This guy had a basement full of science fiction books written from the Golden Age of Science Fiction, up until the cyberpunk era kicked off in the 1980s. He was happy to hand novels off to me, and his private library beat the hell out of our public one. I devoured stories of fearless heroes in space exploring new worlds, first contact with alien races, mindbending new technologies that seemed like magic, about transcending our mortal flesh and becoming part of a universal, transcendental whole, stories that didn’t just talk about technology but about the human condition. Stories that while sometimes bleak, painted a positive picture of the human ability to overcome our inherent flaws and be a powerful force for good. And ultimately Superman speaks from the same source.

It’s not just about the powers, although those who completely dismiss their appeal are making a mistake I believe. It’s about humanity, about our ability to transcend our base natures, reflected in this Strange Visitor from Another Planet, who embodies our virtues and our vices, who is torn between the fear of doing too much and the fear of doing too little. Who hides his true self behind a pair of glasses because he craves the fellowship of humanity more than any amount of glory or riches. His no-kill rule a firm affirmation of the value of life, all life everywhere no matter it’s form. His greatest love, Lois Lane, is his co-worker and greatest rival as a reporter, who has everyone’s number in her phone, be they crime lord or living saint. His greatest friend, Jimmy Olsen, is the guy everyone else ignores or bosses around, but is a rich kid weirdo who gets up to all sorts of bizarre adventures that keep the Daily Planet afloat. His childhood friends are superheroes from the future, his home City of Metropolis is 10 years ahead of everyone else in terms of technology, his dog can shatter concrete via barking at it, his home den is a ice crystal castle situated at the North Pole, like Santa’s Workshop. In short his life is one where even the mundane corners hide fantastical attributes. By living among us, he helps to elevate us, to make our daily grind interesting by seeing through the lens of his life. As others have said, we walk our dogs around the block, he walks his around the solar system.

But it would be a mistake to assume that Superman doesn’t tackle the darker sides of life too. Even the most optimistic sci-fi novels that I read as a kid had dystopic elements in them, intended or not. His home planet of Krypton was our technological superior, yet ignored the warnings of it’s chief scientist, and died a victim of it’s own greed and arrogance with Kal-El as the Last Son. His birth parents died in the fires of self-perpetuated genocide, his adopted parents the Kents often fall to mundane heart diseases or accidents, which even his power can not save them from. His greatest enemy Lex Luthor, is the one person who can understand his loneliness, his need for the public’s approval and acceptance, and yet the shared enmity between the two has ruined any chance of them forming a friendship that could have been. The shining City of Metropolis venerates Luthor as well as Clark, reflecting the greed, selfishness, and callousness of it’s other favorite child. Suicide Slum stands as a testament to the limits of how much Superman can improve life. The Phantom Zone is a spinechilling example of the inhumane treatment of prisoners. His foes ran the gauntlet from greedy businessmen out for money at any cost, to victims who have suffered at humanity’s hands and seek revenge, to sociopaths who treat other peoples pain and lives as a source of amusement, to murderers who care not from where the blood flows, only that it does, to tyrants who seek to crush all resistance underneath their heel, to gods who wish the elimination of free will itself. Each of them force Superman to confront the fallibility of human nature and wrestle with whether or not his faith in both them and himself is justified.

In a sentence? I love Superman because he’s a character you can do almost anything with, from comedic hijinks, to serious dramas, to distributing horror stories, to exciting adventure stories. He reminds me of the best type of science fiction stories, ones that explore people and existence from all sorts of angles, that never lose sight of the emotional human core at the heart of all the high concept existential concepts. He’s made me laugh, cry, think, get motivated, get angry, and sometimes just get writing. He brings the big ideas and the human emotions that keep me reading comics throughout all the Big 2′s bullshit. He still believes in the human capacity for good, in spite of our flaws, in spite of how few of us seem to believe in that capacity ourselves, and he shows us that it’s still there by touching our hearts through his stories. That’s why I like Superman, and why he’s my favorite superhero.

#superman #dc comics #lex luthor #lois lane #me

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anothertimdrakestan · 4 years

Text

Tongue Tied - Tim Drake x Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested? Yes! From a lovely anon!

“Hello lovely author, may I please request a Tim x reader who start as nerd friends, then she finds out about him being Red Robin before he can tell her, and then Red Robin saves her one day and she lets slip that she knows it's Tim. With her smarts, she's able to help him with cases and missions, and the batfam is impressed by how smart she is. You can choose whether it's a romantic ending or not, that's up to you. I just feel like smart Tim needs to be seen more. Thanks😊”

LINK TO PROMPTS & MASTERLIST -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

When I tell you I love me a smart reader I LOVE ME A SMART READER! Thank you so much for the wonderful request! Strap in dear anon you set me up for a long one and I really said “get in the car!” I hope you enjoy ; )

In the midst of a mental breakdown you let the flashbacks ensue, that’s the only correct way to lose your mind as everything you thought you knew crumbled around you right?

First you remembered “meeting” Tim Drake-Wayne for the first time. You always put meeting in quotes because you’d been in love with him for months and had sleuthed out his favorite coffee shop just to stumble into him. And because you’re you, nothing can really go as planned can it? Your plan to stumble into Tim was taken more literally when he caught you from tripping as you tried to enter the store, as you pulled yourself from his chest you felt your cheeks redden immediately.

“Oh my gosh I am such a klutz I’m so sorry” he looked flustered himself, nervously fidgeting with his sweatshirt sleeve. “Oh uh, no problem, are you okay?” he up from his jacket to meet your eyes, and though he’d never tell you his heart melted on the spot, his brother Dick defined it as “love at first sight” but that seemed too cheesy. “I’m fine! You going in here too? This is my favorite spot!” you shook off the nerves, making your way into the cafe. Tim followed you in, and to your surprise paid for your drink. Sitting at a little bar you pulled out some of your college textbooks before you realized Tim and slipped into the seat next to you.

“You in college?” his voice made you jump, your head jolting up. “Oh - no! I just think this kinda stuff is interesting. Math can predict everything ya know!” you slid your textbook between the two of you, feeling Tim’s shoulder lightly brush yours as he leaned in to read it. “Totally! Like even the golden ratio in nature!” Tim explained excitedly.

That day turned into texting every single day and hanging out whenever Tim could, and it slowly developed into a best friendship.

How did you not see the red flags like how Tim could rarely, almost never hangout at night? Or how he’d have strange bruises scattered across his body. Tim always looked dead tired but you knew he didn’t do any activities after school, to be honest the math just didn’t add up, so you took to investigating before making a conclusion - as any good scientist would. And because he’s a messy teenage boy investigation was easy.

While over at the manor Bruce had called Tim to W.E. for some sort of emergency press conference about his younger brother Damian biting a reporter, the interview was only supposed to be a half an hour. So, Tim left you with snacks and Youtube in his room while he threw on a suit and tie, which he looked like an absolute five course meal in - that wasn’t the point. You took the opportunity the riffle through his room, not exactly sure what you were looking for as you pawed through stacks of overdue assignments and dirty clothes.

With deep breaths you relived the moment that hadn’t stopped playing in your head, finding his Red Robin suit. Throwing open his closet you stifled a laugh at his pajama pants and ratty t-shirts but you choked on air when a deep red and black suit fell from the top of his closet onto your face. Thinking it was some sort of halloween costume you held it up and realized what you were touching. It made sense, the late nights, bruises, frantic cancellations, it all added up except that Tim was the sweetest person you knew, the most loving soul you knew was kicking ass while you struggled through trigonometry.

Unable to comprehend what was happening you put everything away and went home, shooting Tim some bullshit excuse about your family as your ran up to your room and began making a list - comparing Tim’s absences to Red Robin sightings, googling photos of Red Robin and drawing comparisons to the way he held himself like your best friend. There truly was no denying - Tim Drake was the Red Robin. Then it hit you like a truck - Bruce Wayne was Batman. And you assumed all of Tim’s adoptive family were vigilantes as well. You didn’t sleep that night, trying to make google searches that didn’t give anything away while trying to make a list of everything you discovered.

Tim was Red Robin. You still couldn’t wrap your mind around it. So you sat in your room at 4am, crying. Because Tim was probably out risking his life for years without you knowing. Everytime you yelled at him for cancelling plans was probably because he was out saving lives and he took all your anger, he let you berate him for scrapping his knees when it was probably the fucking Joker whooping his ass. Is it right to apologize? To tell him what you found out and try to move on with the friendship. Is this like a “now that you know I have to kill you” kinda thing? You weren’t exactly ready to die.

It seemed like Tim’s secret to keep, it was difficult at first to keep the facade that you didn’t know what he was doing at night, you just tried to always be understanding and appreciative of all the time he made for you. You fell back into the lull of best-friendship, Robin or not, Tim was the best person you knew.

“You’re in love with her Drake” Damian chided, almost annoyed with Tim’s ambivalence on the topic of his life long crush. “Am not, she’s my best friend. It’s not my fault you don’t understand friendships demon” Tim spat back, keeping his head down to hide his blush. “I’m with the demon, you practically worship the ground she walks on” Jason called, drinking straight from.a carton of milk as Dick cried out in disgust before adding his own opinion to the mess that was Tim’s love life. “Sorry kid it’s 3 to 1 which means you have to ask her out for real, remember last time?” Tim glared at the mention of his failed date proposal where you thought he was speaking in strictly hypotheticals. “You can’t out vote me on my own feelings” Tim groaned. “All in favor of allowing us to out vote Tim?” The three raised their hands again as Tim stomped up to his room, he planned on going on a peaceful patrol to plan his dream date for you.

A couple weeks into knowing Tim’s secret you learned that if you climbed to the roof of your apartment building you could see Batman and whomever he took out for patrol flipping around the city late at night. It had become a nightly routine and you’d grown to be able to identify the hero by their style of movement, your notebook filled with notes and sketches about each boy or girl. Then when you hungout with Tim you could match a vigilante’s mannerisms with one of his siblings, it was simple science really. Then you began taking down notes about whoever the Bats were fighting if it was public, discovering little facts and trying to slip Tim subconscious knowledge, it was the least you could do to help your favorite boy on earth.

But that wasn’t enough, you wanted in on the excitement of crime fighting, to have more knowledge than was on broadcast TV. So you took to the streets of Gotham armed with pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a notepad. You learned tidbits of information that you poured over, working it together until you’d solved a case, then you’d slip hypothetical ideas to Tim throughout the hours of hanging out. You felt like a real life hero, and you were getting better by the day.

“Jeez Tim it’s like you’ve been working double time! You’re solving cases before they’re even on B’s radar, what’s your secret kid genius?” Dick was stretching on the BatComputer while Tim feverishly typed in his newest solve. “Well I hangout with Y/N! She’s like a good luck charm dude I also get the best ideas when I’m with her! It’s pure magic bro I’m telling you” Tim explained as he frantically finished his report. “Lovers do have that effect! So when are you gonna tell her you’re in loveeeeee” Dick cooed as Tim shook his head. “Shut up Dickwing I’m working” was all he could give Dick without blushing or mixing up his words. He just had to plan something perfect.

But it never was perfect was it?

Kill Croc was out in the sewer, and you’d taken it upon yourself to help Tim out, you knew people who knew some of the people that helped out Croc and you were determined to find him first at any cost. That’s how you accidentally ended up in a dirty drug deal.

“Hey Timbers, you’re gonna wanna get to my location asap, I’m pretty sure your girlfriend is in trouble and it would be rude of me not to offer her saving to you” Jason heard a scramble from the other side of the comm as Tim confirmed he was on the way. He watched carefully as you searched for an escape from your capture, normally he would’ve busted the drug dealers for capturing teenagers by now but he was feeling magnanimous, deciding to give Tim the opportunity to save an unsuspecting but terrified Y/N.

There were definitely no clear exits, you cursed yourself for getting too close. You were not Red Robin, you played the long game you didn’t rush into the arms of armed drug dealers in the name of the law. Your heart was beating out of your chest as they pointed a gun at you, forcing you to walk towards a sketchy delivery truck with the other kids. “Ooh totally not gonna happen!” a familiar voice cheered as glass windows shattered, none other than your best friend stood with a grin. He looked hot as fu- not the time, not the time.

“Come any closer we’ll blow her brains out!” you felt a loaded pistol connect with the back of your head as you froze, begging to any god to live and promising not to be a field agent ever again. “That’ll be pretty hard without your gun dumbass” Tim called as four batarangs knocked the guns out of all the guy’s hands. Red Hood, who you knew was Jason Todd, burst through the back windows, guns raised. “I thought we had a deal you sorry bitches. Now let these kids go or I’ll show you what blowing brains out really looks like” the men froze, letting everyone escape.

“Too late for us, but we’re taking the pretty girl with us!” one of the men had picked up their gun, aiming it straight between your eyes and firing. You screeched when a flash of red jumped in front of you. Almost in slomo you watched the bullet connect with Tim’s body. Your scream was deafened by Red Hood’s guns as he knocked all the men completely out. Rushing to Tim’s side you pulling his head into your lap. “Tim! Oh my god Tim are you okay!” you cried as Red Robin pulled off his domino mask to reveal a very confused Tim Drake. “Kevlar, I’m fine, bullets pack a punch but it just knocked the wind out of me, how did you know who I was?” Tim sat up, showing you the bullet sized dent in his suit.

“We should go somewhere else and I can explain” you smiled sheepishly, letting Tim put his cowl back on as he loops his arm around your waist, pulling you to the top of the nearest building.

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR MONTHS” Tim looked shocked as you explained how you figured it out and how you’ve been helping him out for weeks. “Should I have told you? I’m really sorry I just didn’t know I felt like you’d tell me when you were ready” you flinched at Tim’s shout and he calmed down. “To be honest I don’t know, you’re one of few that know who I am, but I’m glad you know, makes this even better” Tim added the last part softly, placing his hand on your cheek to lift your lips to his. Your eyes widened in shock before fluttering closed, kissing him back. The build up of months detangled itself in a night, and kissing Tim was just as perfect as you’d imagined all those years ago.

“So you’ve really been solving all those cases and you didn’t even tell me! You’re totally amazing at it!” Tim added, almost as if he’d been thinking during the kiss. “Yeah it’s pretty fun, you’re still gonna let me help right? I’m not stopping now!” you poked Tim’s chest while he thought. “I mean I’m pretty sure Babs needs a partner, but no ground work, you saw how well that went tonight, but it’ll be good to have a partner who finally knows everything” Tim exhaled, letting everything off his chest.

“Partners!” you smiled, leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss.

“This is totally epic” you stood stunned as the BatCave shined in all it’s glory. “I mean yeah it’s pretty cool, look this is my actual suit, I bet the one you saw was an older model!” Tim let you around the cave, showing off his favorite parts. You squeezed his hand trying to convey how excited you were. “I’m gonna be a better detective than you soon Timmy” you teased as Tim showed you the ropes of the BatComputer. “In your dreams babe” he rolled his eyes. “Babe huh? Didn’t realize you asked me out” you scrunched your nose at Tim while he blushed. “Oh uh, see I meant to, but yeah, I definitely should do that like-” you cut him off “yes Tim I’ll be your girlfriend you idiot” you laughed at how tongue tied the loveable boy was. You weren’t going to pretend like you didn’t get flustered around him either - you practically tripped on your own feet the first time you met him, but look how far you’d came from there.

From friends to partners to lovers and probably everything in between, you were finally Tim’s in every way, working side by side was the best thing to ever happen to both of you. That’s not quite right. Tim Drake himself was just simply the best thing that’s ever happened to you. And you to him. And that’s truly love at it’s finest.

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thebluestbluewords · 4 years

Text

Soulmates Aren’t Just Lovers, You Know (chapter 2!! It’s on ao3 now!! For real!!)

(malvie, ~4000 words, pre-relationship h/c, cw for mental health issues including non-explicit references to suicide and a lot of sad bits before the actual comfort)

When Mal wakes up again, there are a hell of a lot more people in her room.

Oh, fuck no. This is not some-- some kind of family meeting bullshit. She is so not down for that. Sometimes a girl just has to have a breakdown on her own, and it’s not anybody else’s business what she does when she’s in the throes of panic after having what might be the worst day of her entire life up to this point. Maybe the worst day period, if Mal has her way with it.

“Hey, Mal.” Evie says. “Good morning.”

Mal lets her eyes flicker over to the open window.

“Well, uh, it’s more like nighttime, actually.” Evie says. “But it’s the thought that counts. I brought you dinner, if that helps?”

She holds out a box from the dining hall.

Mal doesn’t want to sit up and eat dinner and pretend like she’s a real person. She wants to lay here forever until her bones rot and her flesh melts to the bed and she’s left as a discarded husk of a person.

“It’s those fancy potato pockets?” Evie offers, shaking the box a little bit. “And I think there’s dessert?”

Mal sits up. It feels like there’s a weight where her spine should be, but she manages it. “You think?” she asks. “You don’t even know what you got for me?”

Evie has the decency to flush. “When I said I got you dinner, what I meant is that dinner has been summoned for you, and I helped.” she says arily. “It was not meant to be taken literally.”

Mal reaches out for the box. “So, what you’re saying is, the boys brought me dinner.”

Evie nods, sharp. “Yes.”

“We got you apple cake.” Carlos offers. “But if you want something else we have the door code for the freezer.”

Of course they do. Mal knows that. She was there, she’s pretty sure, when they followed one of the assistant cooks around until they could watch her put the code in and take the knowledge for themselves. She’s definitely been there when they’ve gone into the main freezer before, not just the little student one. They don’t keep the raspberry popsicles in the student freezer. She knows this.

“You are….a menace to society.” Mal says, taking the box. It’s still warm. A little bit damp on the bottom, condensation from the warm food inside. It’s weird, to think that it’s been this easy all along. Just come to Auradon, and you can have all the hot food you want. No bartering, no threatening for it. No knives involved at all for the good little kiddies in princess school. Wouldn’t want them to get hurt, finding food for themselves. Wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to the precious little royal brats.

Anger might not be the right emotion, but it’s something other than empty, so Mal’s going to take what she can get.

Evie is kind enough to wait until Mal has one potato pocket in her mouth and another one in her hand before she speaks.

“So,” Evie starts, and Mal spits her potato thing out so that she can cut her off right there, because no, it doesn’t matter that the boys are in her room, or that Evie went to the effort of tracking them down and making them bring her dinner, this is not a family meeting and Mal is not going to sit here and listen to more people tell her that she’s doing everything wrong.

“No.” Mal snaps, and picks up her only-slightly-damaged dinner again. “We’re not talking about it.”

Evie sighs, dramatically. “No right back at you. We have to talk about this.”

“We don’t!” Mal says, around her mouthful of potato pocket. Fuck, but these things are good. “We can just pretend like it never happened, and I can go back to--”

Evie interrupts her. “To being miserable all the time and not telling us?” she asks. “That’s what you want to happen?”

Ugh.

Mal flings an arm out, gesturing to the room, where her stylish little backpack is hanging up, where her princess-appropriate shoes are resting on their little white rack in the corner, where her-- okay, where her clothes are still in piles all over the floor and her textbooks for her science classes are sitting unopened on the desk but that’s fine. That’s normal. Everyone has weeks where their room is a mess, that’s why they have a cleaning staff to come around and do the things that the students are too busy to do themselves. It’s not Mal being lazy, it’s her adjusting. To this brave new world. Of. Being a spoiled rich brat.

Anyway.

“To coping!” Mal shouts, mad at herself and not-- just, so not ready to touch that one yet. “I’m coping. It’s fine. I’m just having a rough adjustment, that’s all. It’s hard, learning all of this new Auradon--stuff.”

“I don’t think you are,” Evie says, gently. “Coping is what we did months ago, when we were figuring out how to get through classes, and how to find sunscreen, and all of that. This kind of feels like, well.”

Ugh. “What.” Mal demands. “Spit it out.”

“Like you’re struggling.”

Oh. That’s-- yeah. That’s pretty obvious. Adjusting to the restrictions of school, to all of the times where back home Mal could go and do what she wanted and now she has to go to class and turn things in and speak in turn and not use her hands and sit up straight and share her things and--

It’s a lot. She’s been working on it.

“Sure.” Mal says, because it’s pretty fucking obvious that she’s putting in the effort. If she ends every day so tired she could cry and wakes up with sandpaper where her eyelids should be, that just means she’s working really hard at doing everything right. “Coping, struggling, whatever. I’ll get through it. It’s fine.”

“Mal, I don’t think it is fine.” says Evie. She looks--

Mal sticks another potato thing in her mouth instead of thinking about it. Emotions are overrated anyway.

Evie sighs again. “Some of the things you were saying, it feels like you aren’t happy here.”

“I--” Mal stutters. Stop. Breathe. “I--”

She’s not happy. Anyone with eyes to look at her right now, hiding pathetically in the bed of a girl who she wouldn’t even talk to a year and half ago, could see that. Mal’s pretty sure the lack of feeling that swallows her up sometimes isn’t the same thing as being unhappy, though. It’s the absence of happiness, not the presence of unhappiness. It’s fine. Survivable. She’s supposed to feel grateful, she knows that. She can show her best smile for the cameras, usually, and tell anyone within earshot how grateful she is for the chance to leave the island, and it’s not even a lie, most of the time. It’s awful being here, and it was awful being there, but at least it’s been a different kind of awful, and that’s got to be worth something.

Mal can convince herself, most of the time, that it’s better to be here. Better to be warm and dry and fed and miserable, than to be cold and starving and interested in her own life.

It’s just hard to remember that sometimes.

Jay shifts, pushing off of the table he’d been leaning on and then stopping, like he’s not sure where to move. “We’re not saying that you have to be happy all the time, or whatever,” he says “I’m not. Evie’s not. We’re-- yeah.” He hesitates. Even now, there’s things they aren’t talking about. “I don’t know what’s up with you and Ben, but he’s not happy all the time either. That’s how people work.”

Mal will not cry. “Ben hates me is what’s up with him.” she explains calmly, like a rational person who isn’t suddenly on the verge of tears over nothing. “ He wants me to give up magic completely and I can’t do that, I just can’t. It’s a part of me and it-- when I don’t use it, I’m cutting off a part of myself.”

“Have you talked to Fairy Godmother yet about the magical theory classes?” Evie asks softly. “Jane is taking them, and so is Aria. You wouldn’t be alone.”

Mal scoffs. “Magic theory. Like that’s good for anything.”

“It could help--”

The tears are back, suddenly. Prickling hot at the back of Mal’s throat, threatening to choke her again. Making her voice wobble like she’s weak.

“It’s not going to help!” Mal shouts, instead of giving in to her other impulse, which is to start sobbing. “It’s not the same thing! I wouldn’t expect you to understand that, but it’s not something I can just-- wish away if I just try hard enough! I need to use magic, and it’s the only way I can be good enough--”

Oh, gods. Fuck. She wasn’t going to cry again.

Evie’s there again, touching Mal’s hand and then her hair, soft and cool and just right in a way that makes Mal want to cry more and not less. Like, Evie’s here, and she’s saying soft words that Mal can’t hear over the pounding in her own head, but it’s got to be just the right thing because Evie always knows the right thing to say whenever Mal is acting stupid again.

“I don’t--” Mal tries. “I--”

Evie wraps an arm over her shoulders and rocks both of them back and forth like she’s a child again. “It’s okay,” she’s saying, or at least that’s what it seems like she might be saying. It’s hard to tell what with the hysterics and all. “I’ve got you.”

Mal holds her breath until there are spots over her vision, and then lets it out. It’s not easy, but it’s doable, which is more than she could have said just a few hours ago.

Jay shifts forward again and actually makes the move to sit on Mal’s other side this time. His shoulder just barely brushes against hers. It’s nice to just have him there. Grounding, or something.

“Hey. We’re not saying you have to give up magic, okay?” Jay says. “What about, like, we find a way for you to use it somewhere that’s not on your royal boyfriend?”

Oh no.

“He hates--” Mal sniffles. “Hates me anyway. Doesn't matter anymore.”

“Yeah. No. He doesn’t. Trust me on this one, it takes a lot more than one spell to drive us guys away.”

“I’ve done a lot worse than one spell,” says Mal. “It’s more like-- a whole spellbook.”

Jay bumps her shoulder. It knocks her over into Evie a bit, but that’s just fine with Mal. Evie is always a good place to be. “He’s gonna forgive you.” Jay tells her, like it’s already happened. “He never shuts up about you, for real.”

“I don’t know if I want him to forgive me.” Mal whispers, low and terrible and mostly to herself. She doesn’t know--

She loves Ben, she thinks. She could love him. She does love him, maybe, but in the same way that she loves her other friends. There’s room in her heart for at least three people, but when one of them is so much more it’s hard to say if there’s any space left over for people who don’t get it.

It takes a long minute of sitting with that thought before Mal realizes that oh, right, she was saying something.

It feels too late to finish the thought. Limited-time offer, already expired. No more talking about boyfriends who aren’t what she needs right now anyway. Better to think about Evie instead, safe and warm at her back, or her boys, steady and bright and sweet in their own ways that Mal already understands. It’s easy to be with people you’ve known since you were children, even if they think more about stabbing and stealing than about treaties and marriage and life after high school and all of the things that Mal is supposed to be thinking about now.

Evie shoves Mal upright. “Okay,” she says, clapping her hands together. “I think it’s time to do something that’s not moping now!”

Mal wants to mope forever. She doesn’t want to rehydrate and rest and do all of the things that Evie is going to make her do. Mal would happily (hah, as-if) stay flopped out in Evie’s bed, draped over Evie’s shoulder forever if she could. It would be easier than facing her problems. Simpler.

Evie pulls a metal dish out of her bag. “We brought popcorn, if you want to do the honor,” she says, clicking out the handle and waving the pan towards Mal.

It’s an effort just for Mal to be sitting up right now. Fire has always come easily, but the act of reaching out a hand might be too much. Transforming her throat to blow a breath of flame wouldn’t just be an effort physically, but mentally as well. It’s easy enough to change her whole shape at once, but there’s no space for a dragon to curl up in a dorm room and transforming her body in bits and pieces is so far beyond what Mal can manage right now that it might as well be impossible.

Mal shakes her head. Nope. All out of fire juice, can’t do it today.

The do have a microwave with a heating element, and at least three lighters between the four of them, so there’s really no need for Mal’s crew to look so fucking stricken.

Ugh. One hot hand won’t hurt too much, and if it can get them to stop looking at her like that, it’ll be worth the effort. “Fine. Give ‘em here,” Mal says, gesturing for the popcorn tin. “I’m doing this because I love you.”

Evie hands it over. “And I love you,” she says back, easily. “Let’s get some Stage Moms going. Let the boys get it set up while we get all cozy.”

Mal sniffles. The popcorn is heating up on her palm, where she’s sending a steady stream of heat up through to the container. It’ll pop in a minute, so long as she doesn’t do something dumb like forget to regulate the heat and light the whole thing on fire. “You don’t have to do this.”

Evie wraps an arm around her shoulders, jostling her close again. “I know. What are friends for, right?”

Oh, Evil.

Evie takes this new bout of tears in stride, pulling Mal close and rescuing the popcorn before it burns and producing a handkerchief from somewhere for Mal to wipe her nose with as she cries. “I know, I know,” she says soothingly, as Mal sobs into her shoulder. “We’re here for you.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Shh, hey. You do, Mali. You do, and you always will. Nothing you do is gonna drive us away, okay? We’re your family, and you can’t make us leave even if you try.”

There’s a weight behind Mal, and oh, that’s the sound of Stage Moms up on somebody’s laptop, so the boys must be done getting that set up, and then there’s a hesitant hand patting her back, and oh--

“Um, please don’t try.” Carlos says. “We love you and all. But please don’t.”

There’s a jostling, and then the sounds of someone (Evie) whacking someone else (definitely Carlos, then) upside the head.

“If you need us, baby,” Evie says. “Wherever or whenever or anything. We’re here for you and you can’t change that even if you want to.”

“Even if I’m just like my mother?” Mal asks. She doesn’t want to, but she can’t seem to stop herself. It’s an awful compulsion, the constant need to weigh her actions against her mother’s. Following the trajectory of bright young girl to bitter young woman, to becoming more and more entwined with her magic, until finally she can’t resist the need for power anymore, and she snaps and starts cursing people left and right with no mind for the consequences.

Mal can’t look up. She can’t know what’s going on in this terrible silence that’s going to choke her, even though she wants to know, so very very much, what her crew is doing right now. How they’re going to lie to her when they try and reassure her that she’s not her mother and she won’t ever be, even though the roots are already there.

Evie doesn’t lie to her. “Even then.” she says. “We’d still follow you, Mal. Even if you start cursing people with no rhyme or reason. I’ll always get you back.”

Another wave of hot tears somehow trickle out. “I want to go home.” Mal whispers. She wouldn’t have to worry about dragging her crew back with her if they were home. If they’d never left in the first place. Curse Auradon for making her think about things like morality and goodness and what she could have if only she could be a good girl for a little bit longer. Curse them all.

Evie sighs, and Mal can feel her chest rise and fall with it where they’re squished together on the little island of Evie’s bed. “I know, babe,” Evie says. “You keep saying that.”

Goddess help them all. “I want to go home,” Mal tries to explain. “Not, like, to my mother. I just-- I hate it here. I don’t understand any of the rules and I don’t know how to be a princess like you, Eves. I don’t--” Mal breaks off to swipe a hand over her face. She is not going to cry again, not with almost everyone she cares about still here to watch. “I don’t think I can keep up with everything anymore. I just want a break.”

Evie sighs again, and rubs a hand over Mal’s back, gentle-like. “What if we got you one?” she says, so softly that Mal almost misses it.

She doesn’t though, and that’s what matters. “What?” Mal asks. Tries to demand, really, but it doesn’t come out quite right.

Evie’s hand doesn’t break rhythm. “A break. We can do that. Get you some time to regroup.”

“I don’t-- it won’t help--”

“Hm.” Evie says, and it sounds skeptical even though it’s barely a noise at all. “You don’t think I can do it?”

“I-- no!” Mal says, almost tearful again. Fuck, what’s gotten into her, crying at the drop of a brick like this. “You could-- anything, Eves. You can do anything you want, I’m not doubting you.”

Evie conveniently ignores the final emphasis. “Great!”

Oh no.

“No, ” Mal tries to tell her. “I don’t-- Eves.”

“You said I can do anything I want.” Evie challenges, dangerous even under her sparkly lipgloss. Dangerous because of it, maybe. Like a poisonous moth. Something beautiful that you should know better than to touch. “I’m doing it.”

“You did say that.” Jay echoes, watching Mal a little too closely with those stupid bright eyes of his. “Like, just now.”

“I lied.” Mal says immediately. “I’ve never- I would never say a thing like that.”

“Mmm.” says Evie, petting a hand over Mal’s head. It feels not-so-great, so Mal ducks away. She doesn’t need to be reminded of her hair just now. “I don’t think you did. I think you know I’m right, and you’re afraid to think about what it means.”

Oh no. “Can we not psychoanalyze me right now?” Mal begs.

Just like that, Evie backs off. “Sure.” she says breezily. “We can plan your getaway instead. Do you want to see the mountains?”

“I--” Mal tries, but the words stick. “Sure?”

“I think there’s a cabin up there that I can convince, ah,’ Evie barely stutters, but she does wince, and goes on anyway. Great. That’s perfect. “Nobody in particular! To let us borrow!”

“Eves, please no.”

Evie breaks out into a brilliant smile “Oh yes. Do you think two weeks is enough? An extended spring break, so to speak, and then we can talk about a longer-term kind of thing.”

Running away forever sounds like something that might be good, but forever also implies some sort of continued existence, and Mal’s really not sure if she’s down for that just now.

“I don’t think this is a good idea.” she says, instead of the full thought. “What if it doesn’t change anything?”

“It’s a great idea,” says Evie. “All of my ideas are great, remember?”

“You’re coming with me, right?” Mal asks, hating how pathetic it comes out. She’s not a child, but she feels silly and childish again, watching her best friend plan out how to fix her life.

Evie pauses. “If you want us to,” she says, hesitant for the first time. “I don’t want to put any more pressure on you.”

Oh. The thought strikes Mal for the first time in this awful, no-good, very bad day that maybe she’s not the only one who doesn’t know what she’s doing here. That maybe Evie is scared too.

“I want you there.” Mal says firmly. This, at least, is something she knows. “I want all of you, but please, Eves, I need you there. Don’t send me away on my own.”

“I think we can do that.”

Mal doesn’t want to show her whole soul here, but it’s too easy to just tip her face up towards Evie’s, like she’s a flower reaching for the bright Auradon sun. “Yeah?” she asks hopefully.

Evie brushes a piece of Mal’s hair out of her face, so gentle that it doesn’t even tug on the tangles. “For sure.” she says. “We can go with you.”

“All of you?” Mal asks again, pathetically. “Just for a week, please.”

There’s an intense conversation happening in eyebrows and facial twitching going on over her head, but Mal isn’t ready to follow that just yet, and eventually it seems to resolve itself and Jay reaches over to pat her head. “Yeah, fine.” he says. “All of us.”

Evie lets out a breath. “It’s settled then. An extended spring break, starting next week. Can you do one more week, Mal? We can always call you out sick.”

Mal can’t imagine leaving her room in the next week, much less leaving campus to go out to another unknown place for an extended period of time. “I can do it.” she says, instead of explaining. Classes are the lesser of the two obstacles right now, and besides, she can’t ask the others to take the time off from the classes that they’re finally doing well in. It wouldn’t be fair to them. She’s already-- oh, Evil. She’s asking Jay to give up the university visit he was going to do over break. Fuck. Maybe he can travel down and back, but he hates driving on his own, and she’s already asking so much of them, coming with her at all, and oh--

“We’ll call out early next week.” Evie whispers to her. “One week with everyone, and then we can have a week just for us if you’re up for it, okay?”

Of course Evie already has it all figured out. “Okay.” Mal whispers back to her. “I’ll be okay.”

“Oh, good.” Evie says, at a more normal volume this time. “If you’re feeling up to it, there is one other thing--” she picks up her phone and tilts the screen over towards Mal.

There’s a whole mess of texts, and at least two missed calls that Mal can see already. From a very particular number. Oh, gods.

“No.” Mal says as firmly as she can manage. “No way.”

Evie doesn’t lower the phone. “He’s been calling me.”

“Then tell him to not!” Mal bursts out. “I can’t talk to him about this now!”

Evie grins at that. A full-out, unladylike, evil grin. “Gladly.” she says sweetly, and taps to immediately dismiss the whole mess.

What.

“Really?” Mal asks incredulously. Evie loves being proper and outwardly kind and not telling people to fuck off to their faces. Evie is a firm believer in the idea that insults stick best when the person has to say ‘thank you’ and ideally won’t even question it until they’re back home that night (where they’re most vulnerable, Evie says. It’s just efficiency to make sure that you’re always hurting people while their guard is down).

“Mal. Baby.” Evie says, shifting so she can talk with her hands without Mal’s sad droopy self in the way. “You don’t know how long I have been waiting to tell this boy to fuck off and let you adjust on your own time. You broke up with Uma like, a month before we came here. That’s not long enough to jump right into another long term relationship, no matter what this Auradon boy thinks. You need time, and space, and I will tell him to give you all of that.”

Mal will not stare with her mouth open like a fish. She’s better than that.

“Wow, okay, Eves.” Jay says, almost laughing. Right.

“Go Evie!” Carlos practically cheers. Of course the boys are still here too. They wouldn’t leave the perfect opportunity for drama behind just because Mal is having a moment.

Evie nods to them, graciously. “Thank you, thank you.” she says. “I do take requests.” she hesitates for a moment. “But, um, Mali, do you want to maybe write him a letter? I can drop it off when I make the call. Make sure he really gets the message.”

“Yeah. I think that-- that would be good. I need space. And time.”

Evie picks up Mal’s hand and gives it a squeeze. “Of course.”

“You’ll really do it for me?”

Evie’s eyes are dark and intense and so, so close. “Anything, Mal.” she says. “Just say the word and I’m yours.”

Oh. That’s-- well.

Maybe more than Mal can handle at this exact moment, honestly, but something that is going to be very very important just as soon as she gets her shit together again.

Evie’s face is still very close.

Mal pulls back. “I love you.” she says. It just feels like the right thing to do. “So much, Eves. I love you more than anything.”

Evie’s mouth quirks up at the corner. “More than strawberries?”

“More than strawberries.” Mal echoes back. More than anything, really. “More than chocolate.”

Evie brushes that stupid piece of blonde hair out of her eyes again, and the touch isn’t even a bother this time. “That’s a lot of love,” she says “You’d better be sure about that kind of thing.”

More than anything.

“I’m sure,” Mal tells her. “I love you.”

#descendants #my fic #descendants fic #malvie #mal bertha #evie grimhilde #yes the others are THERE is it also a core four comforting each other fic #descendants fandom #I didn’t include an ao3 link because it won’t show up in the TAGS if I DO THAT #I’ll probably add one when I reblog later #if you’re the sort of person who reads the tags and doesn’t already know #I’m TheBluestBlueBird on ao3!!#there’s a whole first part to this fic over there!

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thanksjro · 4 years

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Dark Cybertron Chapter 1: Welcome to Comic Event Hell

You know what readers love? When the stories they’ve gotten invested in over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

And you know what writers love? When the story they’ve been crafting over the course of a couple years get interrupted for some pseudo-crossover bullshit.

Did I say love?

Because I didn’t mean it.

“Dark Cybertron” was penned by John Barber and James Roberts, with collaboration with comic writer and artist Phil Jimenez, and was published from early November, 2013 to late March, 2014. Atilio Rojo, James Raiz, and Livio Ramondelli did the art, each responsible for scenes in specific locations, with Robert Gill filling in as needed. Alex Milne, Andrew Griffith, and Brendan Cahill would also contribute pencils to the first issue and the back half of the series. It was a celebration of the 30th anniversary of the franchise, and the second birthday of Phase Two... which went on for over four months, but never mind that!

Both "Dark Cybertron” and its preliminary materials were made to go alongside the Transformers: Generations toy-line, each issue being included as a toy pack-in with whatever character was being featured… or, at least, that was the plan. Sometimes it didn’t work out. Regardless, this storyline was created to sell toys directly, as opposed to the MTMTE/RID series being made to sell toys more through the power of suggestion. It’s a small distinction, but important, because it will help explain any lack of soul one may perceive while they read “Dark Cybertron”.

“But Hannz!” you cry out, reaching to grab me by the throat and shake me like a rag doll, because to you I’m merely a faceless voice on the internet. “Surely by calling this specific storyline soulless, you’re completely ignoring the very nature of this franchise that you’re almost uncomfortably invested in!”

To which I’ll say this: look, I’m pretty realistic about where my giant space robots came from; Transformers as a franchise would not exist the way it does without Ronald Reagan introducing the Free Market to literal children and fucking up how we interact with media for the rest of time. There is no ethical consumption under capitalism, and that rings especially true when I’ve got a Spinister on my bookshelf staring me down as I write this, that was likely made out of plastics which either involved blood oil or unethical labor practices, if not both.

However!

The choices of a company to have their comic license holders to cook up an entire plot that derails what they’ve already got planned out for toy tie-in comics is a completely different animal than what IDW had had going on up to this point. Phase Two had been about exploring different ideas that hadn’t been able to be explored during the war, and seeing what happens when you take away a third of the logline for Transformers G1 as a whole. Being a part of a brand of toys was almost inconsequential to how the stories were being told; even the Spotlights, which were also toy tie-in comics, had plenty of charm to them, if only because there weren’t quite as many constraints placed on the writers, and they were stand-alone issues.

Of course, being tie-in comics isn’t the only reason that “Dark Cybertron” is a bit of a slog, considering everything IDW itself was trying to get done within this storyline, but we’ll cover the publishing company’s/Simon Furman’s/Transformers’ tumultuous relationship with the concept of gender identity and expression later on, when it becomes relevant to the story proper. This point also ties into the interesting origin of Windblade, who we’ll meet in a few issues, and what happens when you let your fanbase have a taste of power and forget that people might like to see themselves represented in the media they consume.

“Dark Cybertron” is what ended up making me stop reading MTMTE the first time I tried it in 2015. A big part of it was because it forced the reader to need so much information from RID and even events prior to Phase Two, it wasn’t very fun to try to parse what was going on, on top of the writing beginning to flag because of obvious constraints to what Barber and Roberts could actually do, both within their deadlines and the rules put in place by their higher ups for the event.

“Dark Cybertron” is the result of the sort of executive meddling that kills reader enjoyment by requiring writers to cram their two worlds together as quickly as possible, without the option to go for nuance because there simply isn’t time. The reason we have four separate artists for the front half of this story is because Milne and Griffith didn’t have time to draw both their current workload and “Dark Cybertron” at the same time... but sales probably went up due to the nature of how the story was published, so I’m sure they didn’t really see a problem with it.

That’s a general “they”, not a Milne and Griffith “they”.

In short, we’ve got license contract obligations, fan-poll obligations, and gender stuff fighting for space within the next 12 issues, which will be published in the span of roughly four months. Things are probably going to be a little bloated and sloppy.

Regardless of any of these points, this is what we’ve got. It’s not like it’s all bad- “Dark Cybertron” has the benefit of being written by two people who had been working closely before it had even been conceptualized. Barber was the senior editor for MTMTE, and IDW as a whole until he left in 2016. It also isn’t a proper crossover- y’know, where two completely separate titles get mashed together for a bit. MTMTE and RID exist in the same universe, just have their own things going on, so a decent amount of things still carry over without you needing to have read every single thing in both. The writing, while not quite up to par with pieces that had more creative freedom and breathing room between scenes, is still recognizable as being Barber and Roberts’. Their voices are still here, they’re just strained under the weight of everything that has to be said inside of 12 issues.

With all THAT out of the way, let’s dive in to Dark Dawn: Dark Cybertron Chapter 1.

We get a quick rundown of the most basic information you’ll need for this entire story to make sense, as we reintroduce the fact that Shockwave is an ecoterrorist with more agendas than a daily planner factory on meth, and also that he grows magic crystals. I don’t care what he says, the Ores are fucking space-magic. If you don’t want to read through all of RID for everything else, please see Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes. We also get a quick rundown of the Lost Lighters’ deal, as Swerve potentially has a meta-episode.

Be careful what you fucking wish for, bucko.

Our story proper starts with a flashback to the shittiest road trip Cyclonus ever went on, as the Ark 1 finds itself at the edge of a mysterious portal. This is likely why he wasn’t super thrilled when the portal to Luna 1 showed up- portals are probably a touchy subject for him.

Jhiaxus doesn’t know what this portal is- surely this means that science has failed us, and it’s time to call in the religious crowd to try and suss out what’s going on here.

It’s moments like this that make me wonder what exactly happened in the Dead Universe that made Cyclonus’ cheek meat just pack up and leave.

Now, we know that Cyclonus is correct here, because we as readers have more knowledge than the characters at this point, but Jhiaxus tries to write off this theory as hogwash, because he is a man of rationality and science. This is a slight removal from his character in the present, whose most notable traits seem to be a lack of ethics and screaming.

Everyone here seems to be slightly different from their current iterations, actually; Galvatron doesn’t say a word as he steps between Jhiaxus and Cyclonus, only using his body to communicate that the scientist might want to back off. Cyclonus himself is certainly the wordiest we’ve ever seen him to be, droning on through his actual thought process before he comes to a conclusion on what exactly they’ve found. Compare this to the Cyclonus of today, who only deigns to grace everyone with his voice if they outright threaten him, have something he wants, or are Tailgate. If he were to ever pull this verbal meandering on board the Lost Light, people would probably assume he’s having a stroke.

Nova Prime- you remember him, don’t you?- gives not a fuck about the Dead Universe, only what it means for him personally. And what it means for him is more locations to subjugate, because he is cartoonishly evil. His character is the least removed from his present-day iteration out of everyone. He tells the crew they’ll be getting a little closer, only for the portal to do the work for them, by way of dark energy tentacles.

Wow, the pilot for the Ark 1 really is just straight-up named Butt, isn’t he? And what the fuck is that face you’re making, Cyclonus? Are you- oh my god, are you emoting? Oh my god, he’s emoting.

As the Ark 1 is pulled to its doom, Jhiaxus makes a quick phone call to Shockwave to tell him he’s his favorite, and to keep up the good work.

In the present, Shockwave reflects on just how friggin’ long this whole ordeal has taken. Fortunately, Waspinator and the Titan are almost here, and he can hardly wait.

Not, uh, that he’s got emotions or anything. It’s been established that he doesn’t have those anymore. Is impatience an emotion? Does that count?

Shockwave seems like he’d be really frustrating to write for.

Anyway, the Titan shows up, the Ore inside him and the Ore in the underground Crystal City combine, and the Titan starts screaming because everything hurts. Shockwave’s about as thrilled as he can be about the situation, given his lack of emotions.

Above Crystal City, we finally get back to that nonsense about the early sunrise, as someone- maybe Starscream, given the color of the narration box- waxes poetic on the planet of Cybertron, wartorn and wild in its rebirth, ruled by paranoia that has nothing to bounce off of, and so creates its own walls.

Then we get a detailed shot of Rattrap’s mug, and the moment is broken.

Rattrap’s character is a lot of fun in everything he gets tossed into, but you’re a goddamn liar if you think he’s pretty to look at. You are lying to yourself, and I won’t apologize for saying it.

Starscream walks out of his room in his hot new body, feeling fine and ready to take on the world. We’ll check in on him later in the day to see how that positive mentality is working out for him.

So, the sun hasn’t moved, and it’s way too early for the sun to even be up right now. That’s weird. Because I guess he didn’t know how the sun works, Starscream’s only just realized that this is perhaps a problem. He does some computer work and realizes that this is indeed a very bad thing, and asks that Rattrap call the Autobots. Not the ones who fucked off into the wilderness, the other ones. The gay, space ones.

Up in space, Orion Pax and his pals have found themselves in dire straits, the collapsing Gorlam Prime sucking their ship back down as the Death Ore consumes everything.

That’s not how engines work! And I think it really says something about the “Prelude” issues that I completely forgot why Wheelie was down an arm for a solid five seconds.

It turns out that Orion was the narrator the entire time, which I should have known- since when is the once and future Optimus Prime not the primary voice in any media he appears in?

It’s looking rough for the fellas, but luckily we’ve got to get the plot rolling, so the Lost Light VZZZZTs into existence and picks up the Skyroller to place it gently into its belly.

Orion isn’t exactly jazzed about the fact that Rodimus didn’t listen to what he told him, not even bothering to thank the guy for saving his life. I say y’all keep going on your Thunderclash Quest and leave this ungrateful loser behind. No space yachting for you, Orion.

The rest of the Pax Posse enter the Lost Light proper, and Hardhead reveals that he nearly joined the Quest, before he saw who all would be coming with, while Garnak has a tearful reunion with Rodimus. The fact that he’s calling him Sir- which I don’t recall him doing in Transformers (2009), at least not in a way that seems reminiscent of an unfortunate Antebellum Period Romance- feels rather weird, but I’m glad someone’s fucking happy to see Rodimus at least. Ultra Magnus asks Orion if he’ll be assuming command of the vessel, as Rodimus tries not to look horrified by the thought alone, but fortunately Orion’s not going to pull his “I’m Optimus Prime and I Can Do What I Want” Card just yet.

Smash cut to the bridge, as Rodimus tries to make himself sound competent, when Starscream calls. Orion doesn’t like that Starscream has their number, Perceptor almost reveals the fact that this ship technically doesn’t belong to a faction, likely due to being purchased after the war, and Cyclonus gets brought in for his professional opinion.

As it turns out, that early sunrise isn’t a sunrise at all, but a portal to the Dead Universe. This is a problem, because the Dead Universe really sucks, and you don’t want to go there, especially if you enjoy being alive. Orion seems more concerned about the fact that Starscream is ruling the planet, and Bumblebee is nowhere to be found.

Speaking of Bumblebee, he and all his camp buddies are psyching themselves up for a confrontation.

Swoop, please, this is hardly the time for crudeness.

The Dinobots, sick of Bumblebee’s dithering about, decide they’re going to fight the fucking sun and gear up. Prowl, though generally disliking their brand of problem-solving, does share his begrudging respect of their can-do attitude.

Their can-do attitude over fighting the fucking sun.

Then an earthquake happens and the ground rips open to reveal that Titan that Waspinator showed up with.

Shockwave takes over the narration at this point, and we get artsy, as we see events that haven’t transpired yet over musings on the nature of... time? Maybe? It would be in line with Roberts’ go-to topics, but honestly the whole thing’s kind of vague so I couldn’t give you a solid answer. Shockwave gets awfully introspective for a guy who shouldn’t care, I know that much. The point is, he is inevitable and is super good at logic and science.

Also, Nova Prime and Galvatron are back, which is cool, I guess. Not sure where Galvatron had gotten to exactly after the events of “Chaos”, but he’s back now, so it doesn’t matter too terribly much. Shockwave serves them, which we’ll probably get an explanation for at some point.

God, you can practically taste the desperation to pin all these plot points together before the entire thing implodes on itself.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 1 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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lo-55 · 4 years

Text

Shattered Chains of Fate Ch. 19

Do Dead People Have Therapists?

By the time Ichigo was standing over Hiyori, her throat caught between two blades, there’s a thin sheet of sweat across his brow and his sleeves are long ripped off by her weapon. It’s a serrated butcher's blade, which fits Hiyori perfectly.

She was stronger than Ichigo expected, and he can feel blood drying along his arms from where it's been stopped from flowing out of him, now white instead of black. He mentally thanks Tensa.

Ichigo’s knee is on her stomach, keeping her pinned in place as if his blades weren’t enough for it. Her sword sticks out of the ground a few yards away. The rest of the Visord are watching from the sidelines, tense and ready to intervene save Shinji. Ichigo’s servants are much the same on the other side. They’re too protective of him.

Not that they don’t have their reasons.

The first time they’d seen the mask that is slowly dissolving from his face he’d wrought destruction and nearly died right after. He knows they don’t like it, but it’s his power and he won’t give Nieve up for anything.

It’s still disconcerting when he pulls it on. The shift of the world snapping into intense focus and the feeling of perfect balance and power coursing through him. There’s a pressure in his head that’s not painful but present, when Nieve is at the forefront.

As the last flicker of bone falls from his face Ichigo falls against the ground away from Hiyori, his energy drained away. This was going to take some getting used to. But this time he’d lasted a full two minutes by his own estimate. It’s better than it was before.

Even if it was only by thirty seconds.

“Now can we be done with this bullshit?” Ichigo asks, casting an irritated scowl out at the other Visored.

None of them seem inclined to challenge him further. There’s a man he hadn’t seen before, with pale pink hair, who is staring at his entourage with a little too much attention.

A throat clears in front of him and Ichigo looks up to see Hirako standing over him. His smile is half quirked, not the strange, toothy grin he’d had before. He looks more genuine like this, and less like he’s trying to involve Ichigo in something seriously shady.

His hand is extended down towards him while the other girl, Lisa, helps up Hiyori.

Ichigo huffs and slides Tensa back into his sleeve before he takes Hirakos hand and uses him to pull himself up. His body protests and he’d like nothing more than a nap, but by the way everyone is starting to gather around him it’s looking like that’s going to be out of the question this time.

Great.

Ichigo doesn’t know when it happened but at some point he became the king of ‘making doctors sleep’.

It’s a crown he’d rath chuck in the ocean, but it’s one he wears all the same.

In Chaldeas he’s the one who always bullies Romani into sleeping even when it means dragging him into Ichigo’s own bedroom. He’s made other medical staff leave their stations, and forced Da Vinci to take breaks when they were together, heroic spirit or not. (nevermind that she’s not a doctor. Close enough)

Now, it seems, his luck runs true because he finds Jeckyll passed out over a stack of papers that look like chemistry formulas and equations.

Ichigo hadn’t gotten that far into school when he’d gone to Chaldeas, and he’s learning more mage craft than science now, so he couldn’t tell you what anything meant if you pointed a gun to his head.

Still, he knows a sleeping scientist when he sees one.

He shakes him gently by the shoulder. “Hey. C’mon, you can’t sleep here,” he chides.

There’s not response besides and grumble and Jeckyll reaching to turn his gas lamp down and almost knocking it off the desk entirely.

Ichigo manages to save them from a fiery death just barely, but it’s clean that Jeckyll doesn’t want to get up and move.

Damn it.

The things I do for my friends.

Ichigo pulled the chair out and picked Jekyll up easily. He barely weighed a thing already, compared to Ichigo who had been fighting for well over a year now on top of most of his life.

Ichigo takes him to his room, out of the study and up the hall before he deposits him in the sheets.

It’s when he’s pulling back to stand that he feels cool steel against his upper thigh, right over an artery.

He looks down to see bright red eyes. Hyde.

* *

Medusa and Achilles did not want to let Ichigo be alone with these people. Not even remotely. Ichigo insisted, after Hiyori finally calmed down and got something for the inevitable bruises that would form from Medusa’s attack.

Ichigo was, naturally, completely ignored.

Cu might have let him alone and trusted him enough to mind himself now that he could fight, but when the other two ganged up on Ichigo he threw his lot in with them.

The filthy traitor.

Ichigo sits on the couch in their living room area with Achilles to his left, medusa to his right, and Cu sits at his knee. It’s a wonderful show of force, except now no one is talking about anything, even though there’s clearly a lot to talk about.

“So,” Ichigo says at last, “Why did you want me here so badly again?”

It’s not the best ice breaker, but he can’t think of anything else. Shinji looks off put from where he’s sat beside Hiyori on the opposite couch from Ichigo. Two of the other Vizord took up residence in chair to left, a pretty boy with blond hair and the long fingers of a pianist and a gruff looking man with his hair shaped vaguely like a star.

The pair on the couch was joined by a serious woman reading porn. A love seat on the other side of it had been moved to hold a gruff man who reminded Ichigo far to much of EMIYA and a green haired girl who looked ready to bounce away into the sky.

“Your mask,” Hiyori snapped at him, “You told Shinji something stupid about your mask.”

“I told him the truth about my mask,” Ichigo corrected instantly. “What’s so weird about it? Didn’t you guys have to do the same thing?”

“No,” Kensei said bluntly. “We didn’t just ‘talk’. We fought.”

“...I mean, I did that too, but we were just playing.”

“Playing?!” Hiyori sputters at him. “Playing! A hollow inside your brain and you played with it!”

“Well shit, what did you do?” Ichigo finally demands, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at her. “He’s just me, right? A part of me. Like an arm or a leg or something more profound I don’t wanna think about right now.”

“They are a part of ya,” Hirako admits reluctantly. “But inner hollows chew away at yer sanity piece by piece, just waitin ta devour you. They want out, they wanna kill, they wanna fight they want to take possession of everything ya have. They’re the darkest parts of ourselves, and if ya don’t beat them down and lock them away-”

“Huh?!” Ichigo stares at him. Beat them down and lock them away?!

“-They’ll come back and keep tryin’ shred your psyche. Ya make one wrong more, one slip up, let that box open even a crack and it’s over.”

Ichigo and Hirako stared at each other for a long time. Ichigo leans forwards, steepling his fingers together.

“Okay,” he says slowly, picking apart what the fuck was just said to him. “You are telling me that you have taken the darkest parts of you, the parts that you don’t like -anger, pain, desperation, every vicious killer instinct inside your body- You’ve taken the personification of them, and you’ve stuffed them into a box where you don’t have to deal with them anymore.”

Ichigo looked straight at him.

“Do dead people have therapists? Because you should really see one.”

Hirako gaped at him. Ichigo had to duck one of Hiyori’s sandals.

“Would you stop that! Damn, violent women,” Ichigo grumbled. “That’s like the worst coping mechanism ever. You don’t take all you trash, shove it in a closet, and think it’s just magically gone. Eventually it’s all gonna come back out, and now it’s hella rotten. What the hell.”

‘Did you just call me trash?!’

‘I will say it again. Watch me.’

‘I’m still you, idiot!’

‘This is very strange,’ medusa cuts in.

“There’s not other way to do it,” Rose, the pretty boy, says mournfully.

Ichigo shoots him a look. “There clearly is. Since I didn’t lock Nieve anywhere and we’re just fine where we are… Ya ever read that book, Jekyll and Hyde?”

Rose, Hirako, Lisa, and Hachi nod at him.

“Yeah. Trying to rid yourself of parts you don’t like doesn’t usually end well.”

He had the scar on the leg to prove it.

“How did you do it then?” Kensei finally demands, looming over Ichigo. “You can’t really expect us to believe that you just talked.”

“It’s not my problem if you believe me or not,” Ichigo is seriously starting to lose his temper here. “I told you what happened. He’s me, he’s always been me. He’s my fear, he’s my desperation, he’s my deepest instincts.”

“I’ve always trusted my instincts, even if I don’t listen to them all the time. It’s the same concept.”

They’re staring at Ichigo like he’s just disproved gravity or something.

Ichigo sighs heavily.

“Can I leave now? I have other things to do, you know.”

Before he gets the chance though the world tilts with a brand new pressure. A void and a violent rage slam into Ichigo’s senses.

“...Are you fucking with me?” Ichigo demands, his temper coming closer and closer to snapping.

* * *

Ichigo can feel blood slowly leaking out of the shallow cut on his thigh. It’s barely an inch away from killing him and Hyde is staring up at him, his red eyes wild.

Ichigo slowly pulls his hands away from him.

“Sorry,” he says blandly, “Did I scare you?”

“No!” Hyde snaps, digging the knife a little further. For a berserker he is remarkably accurate. Is it Jekyll’s knowledge seeping in? Ichigo’s not sure how they work entirely. How much does Jekyll remember? How much down Hyde?

“Good,” Ichigo goes with it. He doesn’t show fear. Hyde might get off on that. Or be more temped to stab him. Ichigo’s not sure which one. “Wanna put the knife away?”

“Fuck you,” Hyde snaps. Ichigo throws him off balance. Others flinch in warranted fear. Ichigo treats him like he does Medusa.

Something else catches Ichigo’s attention.

He reaches out, and Hyde doesn’t stab him deeper when he runs his fingers through his wild hair.

“How does that work?” Ichigo asks abruptly. “I get that you change. You’re broader than Jekyll and stronger too. Your eyes are different. But how does your hair change that much without even touching it? What all changes?”

The knife slowly eases out of his leg and a new light enters Hyde’s bright red eyes.

He starts to grin, predatory. “Do you really want to find out? I love breaking in Jekyll’s things before he gets the chance to.” Ichigo can’t tell if he’s being flirted with or threatened. Maybe both. Probably both.

Ichigo’s fingers twist in Hydes hair and he yanks his head back until Hyde hisses. “Don’t call me a thing,” he chides.

Hyde grabs him by his shoulders and throws him sideways onto the bed.

Ichigo realizes he’s going to have to get a little rougher if he wants Hyde to behave himself.

Fine then. He can do rough.

* * * *

By the time Ichigo reaches the clearing in the park Chad is unconscious on the ground and Orihime is standing defensively in front of him, her fairies floating around her in four points. Chad is laid out, his arm slowly piecing itself together again under Orihime’s healing dome while her three pronged shield barely holds to another attack.

Ichigo doesn’t waste time. He’s come in from behind and he uses it to his advantage. The big one doesn’t notice him, but the smaller of the pair glances over his shoulder in time to watch Ichigo vault himself up and over the big ones head so he can use gravity when he swings down and drops with every intention of cleaving him in two.

Zangetsu sings in his hands, Neive shrieking his delight inside his soul. The blade cuts deep, but it’s like cutting through stone instead of flesh.

Ichigo bounced back, his eyes locked on the pair, and lands next to Orihime.

“Hey,” he nods to her, “Good job.”

Orihime flushes pink at the praise and looks away from him, but not away from their opponents. She’s too smart for that.

“Not really. I tried to attack before, but he’s really strong. Tsubaki got hurt…”

“Sometimes that’s how it goes,” Ichigo says solemnly. “Watch my back?”

She nods.

The giant is screaming at Ichigo, curses that spit with no harm. What does he care what these people think of him? Ichigo eyes him speculatively. He’s not that worried about this one though. The smaller one is stronger, power packed into his body. Ichigo eyes them. Broken hollow masks and a zanpakutou. They’re some kind of hollow. A hybrid, too. The opposite of a Visord? Drosiv?

“Ulquiorra,” the giant finally stops screaming to look at his companion. “Is this the one? The one with the orange hair and the sword as long as he is?”

The smaller one, Ulquiorra, eyes Ichigo with disinterest. “Yes. That’s the one.”

“Who sent you?” Ichigo asks, ignoring Neive snarling for release. He wants blood, and Ichigo is inclined to give it to him. Orihime is strong, she’s stood her ground but her hands are still shaking and Chad-

His arm is in bad shape. If it were anyone other than Orihime treating him Ichigo might think he’s going to lose it.

“I’ll kill you!” the giant snarled instead of answering.

Ichigo swings upwards. A sharply concentrated Getsuga Tenshou tears through his arm entirely, finishing what Orihime had started. Vengeance for his fallen friend. Barely a minute into the fight and his opponent is down an arm, cut nearly in two, and bleeding profusely.

“Damn you!” he snarled.

Ulquiorra eyed his companion coldly. “You’re struggling. Shall I step in, Yammy?”

“Shut up!” Yammy snapped at him. He grabbed his sword and clicked it out of its sheath.

‘Cu, is the Bounded Field in place?’

‘It’s all ready for you. No one outside the park will notice anything amiss, even if you blow something up. A couple of yer friends are comin, though.”

“That’s fine. Thanks.”

“I wish you’d let us fight with you,” Medusa grumbled.

“I know. But I want to do this on my own for now. If it looks like I’ll die,save me okay?”

She huffed, but he knew he’d already won that fight.

Ichigo tilted the point of Zangetsu up and shifted his footing.

“Now that I’ve taken your arm,” he said suddenly. “Let’s make a deal.” Before his friends showed up.

“Fuck you.” But Ichigo wasn’t talking to Yammy.

He was looking at Ulquiorra. While Yammy felt like fury, all rage stuffed into a body that was still somehow too small to hold it all in, Ulquiorra felt like a night itself. Cool and vast, he was several dozen times stronger than Yammy. Ichigo could stand toe to toe with him, but a victory would be hard fought if it came.

Ulquiorra met his gaze squarely. “And just what would that be?” he asked, his voice smooth and flat.

“You work for Aizen, right?” He didn’t wait for confirmation. It was obvious. Someone had sent them to find him, and Aizen had disappeared into a mob of hollows, the drama queen. “If I win I want you to take me to him.”

Ulquiorra looked briefly between the pair of them before he closed his eyes.

“So be it.”

Ichigo lunged.

* * * * *

Deep in a desert of snow white sand sat a legend amongst the hollow.

It was a myth that sunk into their bones, a knowledge that was granted to them when their hearts tore themselves asunder and they were consumed by their own loss.

The legend was powerful when it first began. The eldest hollow will tell it as fact while the youngest remember it as a bedtime story and little else.

Decades and centuries ate away and the truth sunk deep in the depths of darkness.

It was in that darkness that she waited. The immortal are patient creatures, and her wait was finally coming to an end.

* * * * * *

#Ichigo Kurosaki #bleach fanfiction #BAMF!Ichigo Kurosaki #Ichigo Kurosaki is Ritsuka Fujimaru #ulquiorra cifer #hirako shinji #bleach/fate grand order #jeckyll and hyde

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wxldchxld · 3 years

Note

[ What is Beck's worst fear as an adult? Does her magic react to her fears and instincts or is it all purposeful? How does Beck feel about other magic users?

In our verse, where does Beck run off to from time to time when life in the Tower and the city in general gets to be too much? What is Beck's honest opinion of Nat's job? What could Nat do to make her leave, and why does Beck want to stay, aside from them being soulmates (if there is a reason at all)? ]

What is Beck's worst fear as an adult?

I’d say it’s a toss up? Beck has two major driving fears.

The first is very straight forward and that’s that she is terrified of losing a familiar again. The pain she suffered witnessing Dawnbreaker’s death is the worst she’s ever felt, and she genuinely doesn’t believe she would survive the death of another familiar.

The second is living her life in a cage or under anyone’s thumb. Beck spent half her life being controlled and locked up, desperately fighting to be herself while being brutally punished for it. So one day she learned to unlock doors and break binding spells, she learned to run, and in running she found freedom. It didn’t matter if that meant an empty stomach or a night out in the rain. And one of her greatest fears is having that taken away from her.

There’s a very finite amount of time Beck will tolerate people locking her up (like I have verses where she’s been arrested for certain periods of time). But eventually she’ll lose control of herself and find a way to escape. If she can’t escape... things will get bloody. Even toward people she knows and loves.

Does her magic react to her fears and instincts or is it all purposeful?

Her magic is very emotion and intuition based, so yes, it can happen involuntary. In a dangerous situation her effort is spent restraining herself and using her magic strategically, not in mustering up the spells themselves. As a feral witch (aka an incarnation of the Earth/Nature spirit my witches come from) the power will always come, but sometimes the control doesn’t.

I will say generally Beck is very in control of her magic in her human form. The worst you might get is like, if you startle her she might shift without thinking and then be like “oh shit sorry” or like, if you have animals around, they will naturally listen to her emotions and heed them. So you might have a trusty dog that you’ve kept for years and all the sudden he’s snapping a hand off because he is sensing her fear/anger/etc.

In other forms it is harder for Beck to control herself, therefore it’s harder for her to control her magic. And how in control she is in depends on the form. As a fox or a cougar, she can maintain the same level of control as a human, but as a horse, despite mastering the form as a little girl, she’s still very much at the mercy of her emotions. It’s kind of a running joke that you don’t jump on Beck as a horse because she will take off running, and then her magic will respond naturally, making her run impossibly fast and for way longer than a horse should. So it really depends.

How does Beck feel about other magic users?

Depends on the species and the kind of magic they’re using. Other witches are usually pretty ok with Beck, even if they aren’t the same kind of witch she comes from. From there things can get rocky. She tends to get on well with gnomes and trolls she comes across. Once she had a dalliance with a mermaid. Werewolves it really depends on the kind. Vampires are usually something she stays far away from unless they’re the sort that don’t eat people.

In like Marvel where the MCU is trying to say Wanda is an actual witch I would say Beck would be pretty ok with the premise of a witch being artificially made by an infinity stone, even if she doesn’t know what that is. But in reality she’d probably give a HARD side eye to Wanda because of the choices she’s made with that magic. Whether or not she could get past her own worries and moral qualms with mind control is---questionable.

What I will say is people like Thor or Loki in the MCU that pull that “magic is actually just like science” bullshit are not ok with Beck. Because she practices magic that is not at all like science. It cannot be wielded by anyone who learns spells or comes to an understanding of it. Witches are born or they’re made by other witches, and my magic system is VERY different from Marvel. While I’m happy to allow it to coexist with my lore system, I will not go with Marvel canon when it comes to magic because frankly it’s a mess. So I just have Beck be like “no you’re stupid and you don’t understand actual magic.”

In our verse, where does Beck run off to from time to time when life in the Tower and the city in general gets to be too much?

Ooof Nat might not love this answer. So I imagine at nights since Grani can’t/won’t be dragged into a city with her, Beck travels through the spirit realm and materializes wherever Grani is as a horse and they spend the night running around and being feral horses. It’s probably the only time she gets to really spend with him, which is a major strain on her in general because witches can’t indefinitely be away from their familiars it causes them pain. So it’s a good compromise.

But especially while they’re living in the tower Beck will probably take long trips. Like if Nat goes somewhere undercover or something and when this happens Beck will go---anywhere? You really can’t know. She disappears into the woods or the canyons or prairies or sometimes even travels north to run along the polar ice of the arctic as a snow white bear. She’ll travel to places on the Earth the non-magical folks aren’t even aware of, places hidden from maps and outside eyes since the dawn of civilization.

If we’re talking about like short breaks like “Jesus this place is too much and I need to breathe” she’ll probably turn into a hawk and fly out of the city to whatever wide open space and clean air she can find. Once her mother is no longer a threat (Idk if they’ll still be in the tower or not) she may go see her grandmother or Cora or visit one of her friends. Dori and Frankie both live in NYC itself, and so does Harper (they’ll probably be good friends by that time), and Jari lives just outside of NYC so like, visiting them and being with people who are like minded would really help.

What is Beck's honest opinion of Nat's job?

sdfgdsfgsdfg Don’t tell Nat but she thinks it’s dumb. She doesn’t get why anyone wants to risk their lives for mortals that don’t give 2 shits whether they live or die. She doesn’t trust SHIELD, she barely likes any of the Avengers, and she’d be very relieved and happy if Nat all told them to go fuck themselves and moved away with her to a farm in Montana.

Like, even if someone were to be like “well by helping protect the world she’s also protecting you” Beck would just be like “I don’t think I’d care much about dying because I’d be too dead to be bothered, but I do think being forced to live every day without the woman I loved knowing she died a horrific death of self sacrifice for people I don’t think matter would rot me away on the inside so...”

What could Nat do to make her leave?

Hmmmmm. Beck’s pretty determined to stay... But like, Beck really struggles tbh. Nat isn’t great at giving her the validation she so desperately needs from a partner. And that’s because of her own trauma, so once Beck knows that she tries to be more forgiving. But it is emotionally very hard on her to not feel like Nat is as into her as she is into Nat. I don’t know if that’s enough to make her leave.

Over all I don’t think Nat would ever say something so intentionally cruel to make Beck pack her bags and go for good, but over the years if Nat never starts to open up and reciprocate the kind of affection Beck needs she may eventually leave for someone willing to give her that (which, I’m sorry, it would probably be Harper), or also a little more likely, Beck might just go feral. Which is essentially her death. Because I feel like if she felt like even her soul mate couldn’t love her that she would truly believe she had no place with people and it would be easy just to wander off into the forest and merge with the spirit she came from. Which is, essentially the death of the individual of Beck, even if technically she lives on.

Why does Beck want to stay, aside from them being soulmates (if there is a reason at all)?

But all of that is near impossible based off of what we’ve discussed and how Nat has reacted thus far.

Nat’s big selling point is that she has no interest of taming Beck or making her behave a certain way. Her whole life has been a series of “no” and “stop” and “why can’t you just be this way.” And I think especially once Nat knows that, she will empathize personally because of all she’s been through. So while she’ll probably be like “please stop chewing up Tony’s stuff and stealing everything that isn’t nailed down” I don’t think she’s going to ever really try to like, seriously try to change Beck.

Another thing Nat has going for her is that, believe it or not, I actually think they have a lot in common? Maybe not on the face of it, but as far as like, suffering trauma as children and feeling estranged from people/displaced. I feel like they both enjoy nature and (tho Idk for certain about Nat) traveling.

It’s going to take a lot of work and compromise for them to work, and Beck knows that. I feel like the biggest reason she stays is because she believes and wants for it to work between them.

#bokketo

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ittybittydragonfox · 5 years

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Mental Illness is Not Psychic Power

That’s a doozy of a title, ain’t it? But it’s true, and it reflects the lies I was told by my earth-and-spirit-loving pagan and witch communities growing up. For those that don’t know, I’m a lifelong witch of 25 years from a generational family that’s been practicing witchcraft for 200 years. My parents are also pagans. My father is a legal, ordained High Priest.

And despite all that spiritual education, I still grew up hearing these two phrases: “Mental illness doesn’t exist. All you need is to connect with nature and your spirituality.” “You’re not mentally ill, you’re psychic!”

Sounds a lot like “You’re a wizard, Harry!” And just like Harry Potter is a pile of fiction, so are these statements. Let’s talk about it.

I don’t talk about my personal demons too much, but I suffer from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). These two things combined have resulted in two very real symptoms that the pagan and witch communities like to attribute to psychic awareness: hallucinations (”Visions”) and erratic, unpredictable, sometimes strange behavior that is complete uncharacteristic of me (”Channeling”). Those that live with me (my partner and, in the past and near future, roommates) have gotten to see me do some truly odd things in an attempt to hide my illness, but the things I do when I can’t hide it anymore are even more strange. I’ve hidden in sheds in my pajamas in -20 F weather because I thought my hallucinations couldn’t follow me there. I’ve spoken in a heavy accent from a country I’ve never been to. I don’t answer to my name. I ask people I’ve known for years, in homes I’ve lived in for months “who are you and where am I?”

Growing up, I showed a lot of these odd symptoms. I do have psychic abilities, and so, when I started hallucinating at the age of 14, my parents wanted to believe my Sight/Clairvoyance was just showing me “new things”. But the fact was, my PTSD had been so bad, and untreated for so long, that I was seeing things that truly weren’t there. These are not spirits. They are my fears incarnated into visuals and sounds. The more terrified I became, the more my pagan parents, our churches, and covens would tell me that “everything is alright. These are just spirits. You know how to banish spirits. We’ll help banish them. You’re just getting more powerful. You’re just becoming more aware.” And no matter what I did, no matter how powerful the High Priest/ess in my church, no matter how in-tune the witch in my circle was, they could neither sense these spirits, nor banish them. They assumed that because my psychic senses are overdeveloped anyway, I was seeing something invisible even to most powerful psychics. The truth was, I was just a frightened child being followed around by a grinning, white monster created by my own mind specifically to scare me. And the constant sound of doors being slammed or dogs growling that only I could hear was keeping me awake every night and ruining my straight-A performance in school.

I’ve had DID since childhood, and my parents were used to my erratic, uncharacteristic behavior. They shrugged off my not answering to my name, and my friends seemed to just accept that I called myself by 20 different names. The truth was, I was dissociating, and an alter had taken my place. And no, I couldn’t control it. I still struggle with control. DID is not something I get a choice in. It’s not fun and it makes my life extremely difficult. I don’t enjoy waking up after 3 days to find that my friends have been trying to call me, I didn’t attend my doctor’s appointments, and I may have done any number of things, none of which I can remember. And that’s if I get lucky and wake up at home. My pagan and witch communities believed I was channeling, because I am a spirit worker, and they believed I was one of the best at it, save for the fact that I couldn’t control it. They believed when they spoke to me as my child alter, that they were speaking to the Young God, or a child spirit, through me. But they weren’t, and they refused to believe otherwise. They never questioned that they were talking to God or a fairy or what have you.

This comes from a misguided belief that mental illness isn’t real. Or that it can be treated with some herbs and yoga. Because of this, I spent 10 years struggling with my mental illness untreated. Everywhere I went, people looked at me as something to Be. “A powerful psychic who sees into a whole other world.” They viewed me as dramatic or gatekeep-y when I said I wouldn’t want others to have this “power” or that I wouldn’t teach them to see. But the fact is, I was incapable of teaching anyone anything about these skills. Because I didn’t have them. I had a mental illness, and my brain was rebelling against me.

This absolute denial that mental illness exists leads to people attributing illness with power. It’s not healthy, and it leads to a really harmful culture where people with mental illness can’t see that they need help, and they don’t get the help they need. Often times we end up with people with illnesses leading groups, sometimes working with the “visions” (hallucinations) they’re having. Or worse, we end up with this toxic idea that taking the medicine someone might need is hindering their awareness, which is some ableist bullshit I still fight with all the time in psychic circles.

I’m not saying that clairsenses don’t exist. I have them, and I believe in them, but there must also be a balance of discernment in the pagan and witch communities. We have to learn to accept the science: The brain is an organ, and it can malfunction just like any other organ can. Mental illness is an illness, and it often needs the help of doctors and therapists to treat it. Loving ourselves and building a better community means it’s time to examine this ableist bias, and do what’s right, so that we stop passing these gross ideas down to the next generation of magic-inclined folx.

My psychic community meant well, but in their effort to erase illness, they made me sicker and used that sickness as a reason to both uplift me and spite me. They gave me undue praise and anger for a thing I can no more control than someone else can control their diabetes. And worst of all, they blinded my family into not getting me help before these illnesses very nearly took my life. My parents almost lost their son to the depression that comes with PTSD. And it took them almost losing my sister too for them to understand that while we may have psychic abilities, we are also sick, and we need help. My parents have since become an active part of my and my sisters’ recoveries. They support us, where once they had been afraid of us losing something if we took these steps, and do their bests to uplift us. We’re both better. Neither of us want to die anymore. I’m on anti-psychotics and an anti-depressant now. I still have hallucinations but they are manageable. I’m in talk therapy, and I’ve learned how to decipher what’s the difference between me seeing a spirit, and me hallucinating. I still do spirit work, but I understand that my alters are not spirits possessing me. They are fragments of my mind, and I am reflected in them. I’m learning to come to terms with that and trying to go through integration. It’s a long road. I still see spirits. My medicine did not take that from me. I still talk to deities. My medicine didn’t take that away either. But my medicine does help me approach them without fear, and with certainty that they are real, and not a figment of my ill mind. And because of that, I can have a meaningful, fulfilling relationship with spirits and deities, built on trust and love instead of the innate fear of “not knowing”.

So for anyone out there who needs to hear it, because it’s important: You are not a failure in your faith or spirituality because you realized you are ill and sought help. Taking care of your mind does not make it, or you, weaker. Let’s change the narrative, and learn as a community that seeking help is how we grow stronger.

Jake

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