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team-enigma-official · 1 year

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I've compiled all the relevant logs recorded by the researcher, Anya, that appear to reference the Glitch City legendary.

These files may be in danger of causing some Data Loss on our end. Never the less I wish to log them here for reference.

[LOG DATE: 6/10/21

"They've given me his old assignment I think. Subjects 006, 007 and 008, three 4 4 Hy, all primed to evolve in just a few levels. I've been instructed to start by raising only one and then slowly evolve the rest. I'm not sure what the effect of having two Q̴̵̵̶̸̶̡̧̩̭͈̣͕͉̓͋͛͋͂̓̕͠ͅ�̸̸̶̵̸̷̟̟̣̝͓͎͍̈͆̊̌̅̔̆͘͝◣̸̶̷̶̵̷̻͚͓̳̩̖͇̿́̈́̓̒̎̉̓̕ͅ�̷̵̴̷̷͉͓̰̱̦̜̼̔̈̀̐̉͑̈́̓ͅ�̷̶̵̶̸̷̛͍̙͔͔̘̣̰̔̏̑̀̌̕͜ will be, but its something we will have to see as we go.

I'm a little sad we don't get to be partners again. He never even told me he was leaving. Kind of cold, really. I guess it really doesn't matter. I have a job to do."]

[LOG DATE: 6/11/21

"Didn't take long for it to evolve. It really does change its name in your logs when it evolves. We aren't really sure why it does that since it doesn't respond to the name it gives itself.

It was disorienting just to be around it. How am I supposed to train something like this? I'm kind of dreading having to evolve the others now. I miss working with She."]

[LOG DATE: 6/12/21

It doesn't respond to anything I try to make it do. I think it hates me. And the feeling is mutual. Every time I turn around I feel like I'm forgetting what I'm supposed to be doing with it or why I'm out in the field in the first place.

At least I got SOME data out of it, so today wasn't a total waste.

The data I DID manage to record about it was ţ̴̢̛͎̭͇̤̘̻̰̦̘̻͌̉̂̉̉̆̉͠ͅͅh̶̢̢̫̪͔͉̯̬͔̠͖̣͚̿͛͗̅̓̊͐͝͝ͅǐ̵͍̫̥̭̤̈̒̐̔̔̃̈̈͑̄̚s̸̛͈͇̔̃̈̄̊̎͋́̚̚͘͠ ̶̧̞̣̲̣̻̞͉̭̲̖̠͐͜ͅQ̵̛̥̗̦̹͆̈́̓̀̊̓͛̒͑̓̿̀͜͝�̵̢̯͇͈̘̮̱̜̼̺̜̝̆͊̔̑̊̃̇͘̚͜◣̴̫̙͖͍̪̰̽̈̒̊͌̇́͗͠͝ͅ�̶̙͓͆̈́͠�̵̡̘͉̼̪̰͇̣͙̖̜̑͂̊̑͌͂̒̋͘͠ ̵̛̝̮̊̈̅̓͊́̾̓̌͝h̸̠̙͔̳͙̗̋̿̅̎̚͠͝ą̶̼̺̼̜͍̹̖͙̔̿͌̕s̶̢̧̘͎͔̫̘̙͕̬̅͒̋ ̴̢̺͓̫̯̈́̈́a̶͈̣̫̞͉̥̯̮͕̒͂͋͊̾͝͝ͅ ̷̛͇̲̦͖̙͙͍̓̇͒͂̇̋̍̐̉̈̿b̶̠̑͐̂̔͠͝ä̸̢̺̱́͌̎̂͑̈́̅̾͂͝s̶͖̠͍͓͇̳͖̈́͆̓̾̃̄̕̕͝e̸̜̹̿͆̏͗͒͒̓͐͊̄̂͂̕͝ ̸̨̨̠͇̤̟̝̼͈̱̠̠͈͓͒̓̍̌̋̓́̈͐̕͘s̴̺̗̫̫̙̜͙͒̐̈͆̏̿͛̎̋̏͒̓t̸̛̝̙̫̱̤̣͖̥̳̗͍̿́̐͆̒ą̵̧̨̘̠̰̣͖̭̼̟̟͌̾̈́̋t̶̞̑͆́̔̒́̋̌̀̀̈́̒̕̕͝ ̸̘̋͑͒̿́̓͒͒̄̾̚ͅt̴̘̱̹̯͆̈́͠o̴̥̙̮̟̲̻͒̅͌͗̀͐̈͗͘̕͠ͅẗ̴̡͓̤̮̲̭̙́̓à̵̘̘͖̖̣͕͋̒̈̈́͊͌ļ̸̢̛̼͙̥͎̺͕̺̌̈̀̐̍̀̾͗̆̑͛͘ ̷͓̦͑̇̉̋̅́͝͝ó̶̲̈̑̀̄̍͠f̴̱͍̅̀̒̍̄͗̿͆̿͑̀͋ ̶̡͓͎̅̀̇̔̿͝.̷̢̧͎̭̜̜̘͈̞̦̤͕͐͛͊̈́͌͗̇͜ͅ.̶̻̘͑.̶̱͖̰͇̞̝̰̆̽͆̓̏ ̶̡̺̫̳͍̉̓̎̅͝�̷̪͕̬̻̈́̀͛�̴̢̡͙̰̮̏͛͂̀̄̾͗̃̆̅͒͘͠�̶̢͍͚̝̖̱̗̜̘̣̏̽͘�̵̡̢̞̠͙͕͙̹̘̘̙̟̰̜̥̄̈̓͂̐͑̈́͆̕̚͝�̷̨̧̛͎̭͚͍̦̬͙̉̌̓̿̾͠͝�̴̜̭̼̲̩̻͕̦̫̭̥̮̗͕͕̌̓̋̈́͠�̴̢͚̳̦͍̫̳̦́ͅ�̶̼̮̝̺̗͎̘̜͕͇̖̖̠̞̗̈́̆̏́�̵̢̙̭̲̜̟̦̀͋̉͆̓̔̊̅̋̅́̃̂̃͝ͅ�̸̛̖̱̝̟̯̣̦̺̥̈́̔̈́̚̚�̴̙̳͔̫͔̳̘̗̀̀̏̐͒̃͂͑�̴̧̬̦̖̘͎̤̱͈̂̅̐́͒͝�̷͖͖͇̼̠̉̅̍̅̂̊͂̂̾̍̎̓͑̚͘�̷̧̛͕̹̝͖̌̀̑̀�̵̞͉̬̝̏̎͛͝�̶̘̐̓�̷̨̳͈̲͔̪̫̬̄͑̈́̀̃͜�̴̛̝̦͖͍͔̪̖̝̘͓̝͌̀͊̈́̈̅̎ͅ�̵̖̻͔̦͔̗̗̯͇͈̗̾̍̕ͅ �̴̥̭͚̗̻̦̞͓͚́̈́͐ͅͅ�̶̢͖̙͙̈́͐̂̏͗͆́�̵̬͇͇͖̳̘̪͇͈͎͍̙͙̳̌̒̄͆͌̚͜�̶̨̡̡̛̥͇̘͎̣̱͛͛̽̄̂̐̃͒̑́͜͜͠͠͝�̴̨͖̜̘͔͇͕͕̥̰͊̆̽̈́̓͠͠͝�̴̢̧̛̟̲͍̺͕̲̠̳̩̙̎͆̎̃̈́́́́�̵̧̛̰̹̥͙̖͎̯͔͎͇͓̩̽͑͛̅̾̊̂͝͠ͅ�̶̢̢͉̯͉͎̰̺̩̗̬͓̟̳̈͆̅̒̒͜�̸̨̣̮̔�̶̨̿̈́͋͂̂̂̾͝�̵̛͉͇͇͌́̒́͋̏͛̈̅̽�̶̧̜̹͕̳̺͎̼͓̙̲̦̠̇̀͐̓̎͛̃͛̈̕

]

[LOG DATE: 6/14/21

I can't remember if I did anything at all in the last two days. All my research is gone. I can't stand it. I feel like every day I work with this thing I'm starting from scratch.]

[LOG DATE: 6/15/21

I don't remember writing a log yesterday, but I guess I did. I'm starting to realize that no matter what I do in the day my mind draws a blank as soon as I get home. I know I'm working with a Pokemon that can alter memories. It lets me remember that. But I can't do ANY meaningful research on it. None of my co workers even know what I'm doing at this point, and at this point I don't think I do either.]

[LOG DATE: 6/16/21

This is just how its going to be, isn't it. An endless procedure of waking up in the morning and recalling nothing about the day before. I can't stand this. I can't stand it. I'm afraid of what this is doing to me. If I can't remember anything from day to day am I really still myself? Have I ever known? Just how much has it taken from me already.

I think I understand why he looked at me at the hospital like that. Why it seemed like he couldn't figure out who I was. I get it now. I get it.]

[LOG DATE: 6/25/21

All these logs are so depressing. Cheer up Past Anya. Does it really matter if you aren't making any progress in anything? Miss Cierra is happy, so you should be happy too. ]

[LOG DATE: 6/29/21

None of it really matters, does it? It could be taking these logs from me too and yet it doesn't. Is it toying with me? Is it laughing? Playing with its food.

I don't even know what I did to deserve this. Maybe I do. Maybe I should do something to make sure I do. Just in case. Just to make sure. I wouldn't want to disappoint, after all. ]

[LOG DATE: 7/5/23

I hope it was worth it. Does anyone even know what's happening to me? Do they care?

I wouldn't even know this was happening to me if I didn't have these logs. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to record anything. Maybe I should just surrender to that sweet nothing it wants so badly to show me. I hope it's worth it. I hope it all was worth it. ]

[LOG DATE: 7/3/22

They took it. Finally.

They say the Silph Hybridization program has been a success.

They say that since this Q̴̵̵̶̸̶̡̧̩̭͈̣͕͉̓͋͛͋͂̓̕͠ͅ�̸̸̶̵̸̷̟̟̣̝͓͎͍̈͆̊̌̅̔̆͘͝◣̸̶̷̶̵̷̻͚͓̳̩̖͇̿́̈́̓̒̎̉̓̕ͅ�̷̵̴̷̷͉͓̰̱̦̜̼̔̈̀̐̉͑̈́̓ͅ�̷̶̵̶̸̷̛͍̙͔͔̘̣̰̔̏̑̀̌̕͜ has been deemed too volatile it is to be destroyed.

I wonder how long it took anyone to notice. At least, in the end I managed to learn something. One thing.

That It doesn't matter. ]

#glitch pkmn irl #lore #tw unreality #tw madness spiral

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butterflydm · 3 years

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the great hunt (chap 36-end)

1. Yeah, I suspect that Stedding Tsofu will get cut entirely, since it only reinforces what they literally just learned at Cairhien. A whole additional location to give us information that we already know sounds like prime material to cut out. Plus, the culture of the Two Rivers has been set up differently in the show, so that element wouldn’t really be there anymore to be talked about. Learning more about Ogier culture is fun but not exactly relevant to the main plot.

2. Rand agreeing to use the Portal Stone here has a similar vibe to him going to Moiraine at the end of episode seven -- he knows what it means, what it will ask of him, but he also knows Mat will die if he doesn’t try to accept what he knows about himself and use it.

3. I wonder if there’s a chance we’ll get the Portal Stones at all. Flicker, flicker, flicker is very memorable. But could also be real real expensive to actually film and create. Some of them they could have already filmed, if they knew they were planning on doing the Stones -- like Rand getting killed on Winternight -- so maybe if they just picked out a handful of alternate lives, they could do it.

4. Verin providing cover for Rand here and pretending that she’s the one using the Stone is sweet, actually.

5. I definitely have some Thoughts (too spoilery for later books to mention here) about what Verin ‘never thought’ she was capable of that she saw in the Stones.

6. The time skip here feels like the first time Jordan went, “Oh shit, the timelines are out of alignment” and tried to brute force them back into place, which he will do again in the future, though in different ways than this. Because the Seanchan needed time to establish themselves on Toman Head and Egwene needed time to actually train in the Tower for a while (and to become Actual Friends with Elayne rather than insta-besties?), but Rand is... efficient and got all his work done ahead of time plus did extra credit.

7. Rand won’t let Verin heal him. :-( bby.

8. I wonder if they’re going to show Egwene’s crush on Galad in the show.

9. I would feel bad about Nynaeve not making any friends among the other Accepted if I didn’t feel like it was probably pretty strongly her own choice lol.

10. The older I get, the more sympathy I have for Galad tbh. “Bless his heart, he tries” is also a good descriptor of Galad, not just Rand.

11. Awww, Elayne feeling sympathy for Logain. ...lol, Elayne trying to set Min up with Gawyn, also lol.

12. LIANDRIN. She’s another character that the show improved, I’d say. She’s not very much of a fleshed out character in the books at all. Like, I still hate her here, but I’m not enthusiastic about it.

13. I’m still trying to figure out the narrative reason for changing the Rand/Egwene backstory -- so that Elayne and/or etc. needs ‘permission’ from Egwene to make a move on him? It just doesn’t seem to add much. Though Elayne being playful about the ‘competition’ over Rand is very cute. She likes him, but makes it clear that she values her friendship with Egwene dearly enough not to act on it because of the situation between Egwene and Rand, just to tease her over it -- maybe that’s the reason for the change, to establish something about Elayne’s character? I do also like Elayne’s thirst for adventure reminding Egwene of how she felt at the start of EotW.

14. Aw, our girl Elayne doesn’t let anyone shield her from blame. When Nynaeve tries, she immediately lets Liandrin know that she didn’t give Nynaeve a choice about her coming along. 😍

15. I appreciate (?) us finding out so quickly that there are Darkfriends among the Seanchan. For a variety of reasons. But at what cost. Everything about learning how the damane are treated and ‘trained’ is just so difficult to read.

16. I don’t have much to say about these chapters because I’m just sad.

17. Though I do also... appreciate (?) that we see that the climate of fear and hopelessness caused by the Whitecloak Questioners is much the same as that caused by the Seanchan. Two sides of the same terrible, terrible coin of controlling other people’s behavior and choices because You Know Best, and forcing other people to be terrified of you is totally fine as long as it makes them behave themselves around you.

18. Nynaeve uncovers in minutes the secret that holds the entire Seanchan society up in the air with the power of its military slave labor -- that sul’dam are vulnerable to the collar as well, thus leading to the logic chain of them and the reader realizing that the sul’dam are those capable of channeling while the marath’damane are those with the spark. And then Nynaeve having that moment when she realizes they need a new plan, because she can never actually put that collar on Elayne, not even for as long as it would take to get in to save Egwene. It’s just a lot.

19. Rand kills a person for the first time. Page 639. Not for the last time, of course. Mat also killed his first person a couple of pages before, I believe, when he kills someone with the dagger and it causes a very nasty death. (Perrin, of course, already killed two people back in EotW).

20. Ah, it seems like this is perhaps the climax of the “actually, Egwene and Rand were all-but-promised to each other as children” thread (at least for this book) -- it’s Rand’s feelings for Egwene and his determination to save her and saying that giving up on her would be damning himself that finally gets through to Ingtar and makes him rethink his obsession over getting the Horn for his sake and to save himself rather than for the salvation of the world. I should have guessed, tbh, it’s a very common trope.

21. Nynaeve provide the evidence, but now it’s Egwene who works out the connection between sul’dam and channeling (and from Seta’s reaction, I do think there are probably sul’dam out there who have suspicions but are either in denial or just keeping it to themselves out of a desperate attempt to keep themselves out of a collar). Also, Egwene getting to turn the tables on Renna and then get control of herself again afterwards.

22. There is so much trauma in Falme. Damn.

23. The battle stuff is pretty cool, ngl. Oh, hey, page 664, Rand calls a guy handsome without qualifying it by adding “to women maybe”. Alas, he says it about, you know, Ba’alzamon. Is Rand’s type in guys ‘evil’? Maybe idk.

24. I had forgotten about the string of fate literally yanking Min into a building so that she could be Rand’s caretaker after he got himself stabbed by handsome guy. Both Egwene and Elayne feel yanked by Rand’s threads of fate, too. I actually like this scene better than I remembered -- you can feel Min’s inner conflict pretty clearly.

For whatever reason, there was a character that I totally thought we met this book that we do not. So events with that character are apparently a lot more compressed than I remembered them being! Look forward to meeting them again for the first time next book!

#wot #wheel of time #wot reread #wot book spoilers #wot spoilers

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chaserainbows · 2 years

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What would cause you to leave a fandom?

Friday, or as I like to call it, Munday

There's one fandom I left and it was Danganronpa, and while I still love the games (well 2 of them) and write content related to it with close friends I no longer engage with any content outside of my bubble so let's go over why that happened

1- It honestly feels like it's already been completely played out, most of the fandom content relies on repeating the plot beats from SDR2 (not helped by the fact that this is my least favorite game) and regurgitating the same room temperature takes over and over while acting like it's a shocking new twist that no one's ever seen before

Like every fangan creator out there will bash on the classic Danganronpa formula of chapter 1 kills off the fakeout protagonist chapter 2 gives the victim and killer a little bit of sympathy to make up for the fact that you'll never hear from them again chapter 3 has 2 victims and gets rid of the filler characters chapter 4 kills off the bara and has a sad twist chapter 5 kills off the deuteragonists and there's some ambiguity with the cause of death but then just repeat it word for word, it's incredibly stale

In fact because it's so stale it's hard to create an OC in that fandom without people trying to force them into the mold of a canon character, like you write a mildly antagonistic character and they start being compared to Komaeda or you write a character that's more reserved and people start acting like you're writing Chihiro

2- The blatant sexism like the first game does a FANTASTIC job with the female characters pretty much all of them can be considered plot-relevant and the only one that kinda feels like a filler character (Toko) still has her purpose as a shit-stirrer and serves as a catalyst for many of the most important moments but guess what they're all remembered for

Shipping (and in the specific case of Celeste being ridiculed in order to make male characters look better)

From the second game onwards the development of female characters is chucked off a cliff (because Kodaka's a very flawed writer and I think he was holding himself to a higher level of scrutiny in the first game that turned out not to be necessary going forward because the fandom hates competent women) and all the female characters are turned into waifus and then you get all those pretentiously long thinkpieces about how Female Character X Is A Horrible Person or Female Character Y Should've Died Instead Of Male Character Z and the women in these games become the most hated characters consistently hanging in the bottom half of the popularity lists (aside from the assigned waifu) because they're extremely underused in the plot, get no chance to develop and have their own agency and the fandom at large is already primed to hate them so that the male characters look better so there's this double standard where the guys are underused and the girls just have no personality

It's also important to mention that in every Danganronpa game (and in 99% of fangans which is already a very generous number) the 'rival' characters are male, they're always serial killers (with the exception of Byakuya) and they ALWAYS get turned into misunderstood victims who just need love by the fandom, while every girl that acts ever so slightly mean ends up being headcanoned as the worst person to ever exist and only 2 of them are allowed to have major antagonistic roles (both of which conveniently keep them out of the spotlight until the last 15 minutes of their games)

3- The RPs just have so much metagaming like part of the gimmick in Danganronpa is that every character has a title that represents one thing they're supremely talented at but there's always that one guy (or those guys there might be many of them) who make their muses' talent deliberately vague or give them an overly convoluted backstory in order to make them good at everything that's required in a murder mystery

Like at least on the Pokémon RPC if someone goes "oh my muse's totally invincible in Pokémon battles and so smart and a genius and good at everything and have never lost once in their entire life" I can just go lol lmao and ignore it, in a Danganronpa RP it's pretty much guaranteed that at some point there will be a long hiatus because someone got butthurt over their invincible OC dying and decided to make it everyone else's problem

So the short version is: I'd leave a fandom if it gets boring if the fandom content is atrocious and if the RPs are unplayable

#grimmssnarl #ooc #meme reply #amano's cursed opinion of the day

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cruelfeline · 4 years

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Agh, it got so long I had to read-more it; no one look at this; I just had to get it out of my mind, but don’t look at it just ignore this and go examine a pretty nature photo; honestly these just keep getting worse why does this keep happening? And I hate dialogue. And I hate characterization. Ugghhh... just insert a Mermista groan here.

also a more mature Catra helping Hordak on his journey provides me with happiness don’t judge me

Please consider, a concept:

A few months have passed since Prime’s demise. Reconstruction of Etheria’s damaged settlements is well underway, and all parties involved have gotten... if not entirely comfortable with one another, then at least able to interact with civility. Enough so that, when Entrapta and Bow end up delayed on one of their interplanetary trips, Hordak is only moderately uneasy about heading off to Bright Moon on his own. Oh, of course he’d rather wait for Entrapta, but certain planned meetings (dictated by Etheria’s terribly inconvenient seasons) simply cannot be delayed. So off he goes, determined to maintain decorum and dignity and uphold his end of all relevant treaties. He is received by Glimmer, Adora, and Catra. The other Princesses are all otherwise engaged (with what, he cares little, though he is admittedly amused to learn that Mermista and Perfuma are occupied with an apparently disastrous seaweed-related snafu). So it is the four of them against a whole mess of administrative work.

The girls, for their part, are equally uneasy but likewise determined to proceed as usual (Adora and Catra seeming particularly determined). They meet Hordak’s reserved politeness with a tentative poise of their own, and the group’s work commences.

And for a number of days, it goes fairly well. Even Glimmer has to admit that, whatever anyone’s misgivings about how an Entrapta-less Hordak might behave, things are running smoothly. She maintains control of the meetings, guiding them through agenda after agenda, while Adora and Catra provide input based upon their recent scouting trips to Etheria’s various corners. Hordak rounds the discussions out with whatever technological information is relevant. Their sessions run long most nights (too long, if Catra were asked her opinion on the matter, which she pointedly is not), but they are productive. The four of them get an impressive amount of work done, and all without any tense moments or uncomfortable quarrels. One might even say that they are getting along quite well, all things considered.

In fact, Catra is nearly certain that, when Adora mentions appreciating the work of some Dryl-made construction bots in a seaside village, Hordak subtly quirks his lips in what a careful observer could term a smile.

So the three girls are legitimately stunned when, about three-quarters of the way through their intended time together, Hordak’s behavior abruptly changes. His calm demeanor turns sullen and tense. Previously comprehensive explanations gain a taciturn edge, eventually devolving into clipped, half-snarled responses and sneered refusals to provide clarification. More and more often, words are accompanied by the baring of red teeth and the angry glare of red eyes.

Glimmer is... less than pleased, but between her own determination to make this treaty work and Adora’s dogged, somewhat frantic optimism, she strives to maintain civility long enough to get through the last few days. But, well... limits are limits. And limits are surpassed when, one evening, Hordak furiously declares that he has lost patience with their “embarrassing incompetence” and, with nary another word, storms out of the conference room.

“That’s it! How dare he?!”

Glimmer promptly explodes, and Catra spends the next few minutes watching Adora try to quiet what is proving to be a very loud, very angry, moderately uncouth Queenly rant. It is in the midst of this rant that Adora catches her eye and, with a quiet groan and a nod and a mental wish of good luck, Catra slips away with Melog silently following at her heels.

“I guess this is better than dealing with Sparkles,” she mutters to herself as she stands at the door to Hordak’s temporary quarters. Beside her, Melog trills encouragement, and she sighs. They’re right, of course: between the two of them, Adora has more experience dealing with an upset Glimmer. And Catra... okay, so she doesn’t have “experience dealing with an upset Hordak.” Not... not good experience. But she worked with him for nearly a year. And, given what she’s seen, what she knows... she has a fair idea of what’s been happening. She’d been quietly hoping that it would work itself out, or that it wouldn’t become enough of a problem to cause trouble before they finished their work, but alas: it seems that that sort of luck just isn’t on their side.

Which, given the fact that Hordak seems to have the worst luck of anyone she knows, probably should have been something she’d seen coming.

Melog trills again, adding a gentle headbutt this time.

“Okay, okay... give me a second.”

She takes a breath, lifts a hand to knock, grimaces, and drops said hand. She clears her throat.

“Hordak?”

Nothing. She frowns and tries again.

“Hordak? Are you-”

“Leave.”

His snarl is all-too familiar, and even muffled through a door, it causes her hackles to rise, her ears to pin back, her tail to lash.

“Look, I just-”

“Go. Away.”

She grits her teeth, clenches her fists, and turns away, ready to return downstairs with nothing to show for her efforts but a bad mood. Next to her, Melog meows in protest. She rounds on them.

“What? If he wants to be a jerk about it, then that’s his problem! Besides, what am I supposed to do? Break down the door?”

And she resumes making her way back to the staircase, ignoring Melog’s continued protest (which, come to think of it, sounds fairly alarmed, but... well, what is she to do?) and... she freezes. The world around her is starting to shimmer. She knows that shimmer: teleportation via alien cat.

“Wait! I said-!”

And just like that, they’re in his room, and though Catra’s first instinct is to make her displeasure very loudly known, said instinct quickly fades at the sight of Hordak.

“Oh, damn it.”

From his place on the floor, crumpled in a sweating, trembling heap, Hordak looks up at the intrusion. His eyes widen, face twisting with fury as he prepares to shout what Catra predicts will be his trademark “get out,” only to choke up and curl in on himself as some sort of painful spasm races through him.

Once upon a time, this sight might have spurred Catra into a bout of cruel gloating, but circumstances are vastly different today.

Today, before either of them can really take stock of what is happening, she helps him up and half-leads, half-carries him to the corner sofa, depositing him with a strained grunt before taking a step back and giving him a moment to collect himself. Which he does while glaring at her.

For some time, the only sound between them is the ugly rasp of Hordak’s panting, then: “Get. Out.”

Ah. There it is. As expected. As anticipated. Catra’s ears flick at the command.

A part of her still bristles at his snarling, at his combative ire, at his accusatory glare... but a different part notices instead how that glare comes through dull eyes, how that snarling fades into exhausted panting, how he’s still trembling, even before his very unwanted audience. As the seconds pass, this part maintains its position at the forefront of her mind, until:

“You want some water?”

“...”

“...what?”

There’s a sudden lightness to her thoughts.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Just... stay there, okay?”

Melog punctuates her words with a happy chirp before providing the necessary teleport. A minute later, they’re back from the kitchens, glass of cool water in hand. Hordak remains where they left him, though he actually gives a bit of a start when they reappear. The momentary surprise disappears under a scowl as Catra holds the glass out to him.

He curls his lip. He doesn’t take it.

Catra remains steady. Next to her, Melog sits, tail waving a constant, slow path in the air.

Hordak bares his teeth.

“I do not require your pity, Catra.”

“Good, ‘cause all I’ve got is this glass of water.”

He gapes at her.

“Which, y’know, you should take. Because my arm is getting tired.”

His expression closes off again in another scowl (he never did see the humor in her sass, did he?), but after a few more moments, Hordak relents. Slowly, clearly trying to keep his hand from trembling too much, he takes the offered glass.

Catra sighs and, suddenly drained, sits down on the ground a few feet away from him, resting her back against the arm of the sofa. Melog stretches out beside her, and Catra turns her back to Hordak to focus on providing the desired belly rub. She swivels an ear towards him, listening for him to finish draining the glass. He does so.

She can hear that his breath has lost that ugly rasp, and a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t been aware of loosens.

“So,” she begins, trying to keep her tone casual, “do you... need to call Entrapta? Is it... is it your-”

“Entrapta is currently beyond the reach of our communication modules.” She’d steeled herself for another snarled response, but his voice is calm, almost quiet. “And no; it is not my armor.”

“...oh.”

A minute passes. Two. Catra starts to tentatively turn around, wishing to steal a glance, but Melog thrusts their head into her lap and refocuses her gaze downwards. Another minute passes, then:

“It... it has proven somewhat...” He starts, stops, starts again. Stops again. Something that is not pain chokes his words, and though she wants to somehow encourage him, a soft rumble from Melog compels her to wait.

“Even with the armor, there are times that I... have difficulties.” He is breathing quicker again, she can hear; not quite panting, but definitely breathing quicker. In her lap, Melog seems attentive but otherwise unconcerned.

“Particularly during periods of higher stress, or exertion. Though,” he suddenly hisses, and Catra hears claws scrape against fabric, “hardly anything about our current work should merit this... exacerbation.”

He falls quiet, and for what feels like a long while, neither of them say anything. Melog’s soft purring fills the silence.

“Sparkles is mad,” Catra finally says, “Adora’s calming her down.”

This time, when she tries to turn her gaze back to him, Melog remains quiet. She watches Hordak nod, sees his ears droop.

“My behavior has been... unacceptable. I shall go request an audience with Queen Glimmer and make an apology-”

“Uh-uh.”

He frowns at her.

“Oh, I mean, yeah! Definitely apologize. You were a jerk. But not now; you should rest first. I’ll go tell them that you’re not feeling great, and-”

His scowl returns.

“That is not necessary.”

She matches his frown with her own and scoffs. “Uh, according to what just happened, it is. What? You’re just gonna... pretend you’re fine and keep going?”

He looks like he wishes to say something less-than-polite, scowl deepening, but instead he turns away with a quiet huff. His ears droop even further.

“The terms of the treaty are fair, and it is my duty to adhere to them. This... lapse... aside, I am entirely capable of doing so.” He sighs and seems to will his ears into a more neutral position. “So yes: I shall ‘keep going.’”

Catra blinks at him.

“That’s... really stupid.”

He blinks at her.

“...what?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid. What’s the point of it... pushing yourself like that when you’ve obviously had enough? If you need a break, then-”

Suddenly he snarls, he rounds on her, teeth and eyes glowing too-brightly, and she nearly jerks back. Melog tenses beside her but remains still.

“Then what?! I should inform the Queen, and she will suspend proceedings and accept needless delays for my comfort? That is... that is-”

He stops abruptly because she’s laughing, a dry sort of chuckle that might have infuriated him save for the fact that, when she notices his attention and stops, it’s to smile at him. Catra smiles at him, and the expression holds an honest sincerity that he’s never seen her exhibit before. His indignation fades; his aggressive posture deflates.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what she’ll do.”

At first, he only stares at her, as if uncertain that he has heard what he believes he has heard, but eventually Hordak swallows, glances away, glances back, presses his lips together.

“That is... highly illogical, given the circumstances. I am not... I do not...” His voice fades, and his ears all but wilt.

For the second time that day, Catra does something without thinking, settling herself into the seat next to him and placing a hand over one of his. It’s tense and cold to the touch; her thumb begins to stroke his knuckles without her realizing it. Hordak remains silent, lips slightly parted, transfixed. He does not even react when, on his other side, Melog presses their body gently against his leg.

“It’s a treaty, Hordak,” she begins, and her voice nearly strains for a moment when her brain catches up with her actions, but she steels her resolve and continues, “not a sentence. Not a punishment. I thought it was, at first. I figured it had to be, because of all we’ve done... all I’ve done. But it’s not.”

Catra remembers how she first felt, all those months ago, and she makes the connection between her old fears and his current ones, unconsciously pausing to squeeze his hand; her ears have pinned back, and her chest is suddenly tight again.

“It’s not supposed to... to hurt. For either of us. Y’know? I mean... I was out with the flu for a week a couple of months ago, and the worst thing that happened was having to choke down Perfuma’s gross herbal junk.” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “This...”

Now her voice does strain, and she has to stop for a moment before continuing. Beside her, Hordak is breathing quickly again and trying very hard to stop.

“This isn’t the Horde. Either Horde. How we feel matters. How... how you feel matters. So if you need a break, you get a break. ...okay?”

It takes him some time to answer, and in that time Catra realizes what her hand has been doing; she snatches it back just as he finds his voice.

“If... if you believe that your suggestion is... appropriate, then I shall agree to it.”

Catra lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The smile returns to her face, and she nods. Melog trills happily and rewards each of them with a gentle headbutt.

For what had seemed such a dramatic conversation, the aftermath is anything but. Catra and Melog return downstairs and tell Glimmer and Adora of what has transpired. Their reaction is as expected: the work is postponed, and Hordak is given leave to rest as long as is necessary, no questions asked.

He spends the remainder of that day and the next in bed, rising in the late afternoon to deliver a very formal, semi-awkward apology to Glimmer. She responds with a very formal, semi-awkward acceptance. Their working session resumes, though Hordak finds that he needs to excuse himself again after only a couple of hours. That evening, Glimmer has a basket of strawberry tarts delivered to his room. She also makes a point of ensuring that their sessions no longer extend into the late night hours.

Catra remains nearby, much to Hordak’s (admittedly only half-sincere) chagrin, and between her stubbornness and Melog’s perception, he is kept well-supplied with snacks, water, extra blankets and, though both refuse to admit it, friendly company. Adora spends her time trying to contact Darla; when she succeeds, Hordak happily accepts Entrapta’s enthusiastic check-in (and assures her that, yes, he is being provided an adequate amount of soup).

A few days later, he is able to rejoin the group in full capacity, and they finish their work with little harm done by their extended schedule.

Then it is time for him to return to Dryl (Entrapta arrives the next day), but before he boards his transport, he takes a moment to do something he’d once never imagined he’d do: thank Catra. Awkwardly, as seems is his communicative style this trip, but sincerely.

She grimaces slightly, refusing to meet his eyes, and scratches absently at the back of her head. Next to her, Melog utters a noise that sounds like a warbling coo, their mane glowing a faint pink.

“Yeah... well... better than you passing out and bringing the wrath of Entrapta down on us. Bright Moon’s still rebuilding, y’know.”

This elicits an actual laugh from Hordak, sudden and rather loud, and Catra fails to keep the surprise from her face as he regains control of himself and gives his final farewell with a small, genuine smile.

Despite Melog confirming for the world that she is blushing under her fur, Catra smiles back.

#all right we are keeping this despite it making me cringe #catra #hordak #pc:ac

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iceshard1011 · 4 years

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Sanders Sides (Web Series) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Relationships: Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders & Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders, Unrequited Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders Characters: Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Deceit | Janus Sanders, Morality | Patton Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Orange Side (Sanders Sides) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Human, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders And Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Angst, Car Accidents, Precognition, Abusive Parents, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Background Orange Side (Sanders Sides), Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders Needs a Hug, Logic | Logan Sanders Is A Good (Boy)Friend, Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders is So Done, Sympathetic Sides (Sanders Sides), Mentions of various mental illnesses, (none of which any of the characters have) Summary:

"You know when people say your life flashes before your eyes? Well, it doesn’t. You don’t have time."

---

In which anyone who has ever hurt Remus immediately pays for it thanks to his menace of a brother.

4k word fic is below :)

Remus had always had rotten luck. Wherever he dared to have the audacity to step, utter chaos followed. Whether it was a punch to the nose from an asshole trying to mug him or a woman ranting at an accidental spill of coffee on her new shirt. Whether someone walked away with a soured attitude or broken leg, anyone who came in contact with Remus had their entire day — and sometimes their entire life — ruined, simply for looking at him the wrong way. Remus figured this recurring curse nipping at his heels was the reason he had no connections with his family, the reason no co-workers wanted to be around him, why no one in his classes stuck around long enough to know more than his name.

Oh, also, he was crazy.

If everything aforementioned wasn’t enough to push someone away, announcing that he had a voice that told him This person talks behind your back was a sure-fire way to send anyone scrambling.

At first, Remus thought it was normal. For a thirteen-year-old boy growing and changing and dealing with significantly more stress and grief than other people his age, hearing things like Your friends are toxic and This teacher sucks and You don’t need school didn’t seem so crazy.

Besides, he’d approached his parents exactly once about leaving school, and got his answer swiftly and harshly. He’d never asked again, too distracted with trying to help Mum when she came down with a sick spell for the next week and the way Dad’s car kept breaking down.

The thoughts didn’t cease.

It’s not wrong to like boys.

You’re not in love with your girlfriend.

You could anonymously key your English teacher’s car after school. The bitch deserves it.

Sometimes, Remus did stupid things like listen to the ridiculous thoughts that hummed in the back of his mind.

When he fled from the car, stuck in the middle of congested traffic just before a truck ploughed through the vein of vehicles and landed his father in hospital for days, his mother had slapped him upside the head and grounded him for far longer. Remus still wasn’t entirely sure why. He wondered if she blamed him for not warning them. He wasn’t sure if that was justified, as he hadn’t been thinking much else other than the GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT that had been ringing in his ears.

When the thoughts had mused, seemingly half-heartedly, that his father was going to trip down the flight of stairs if he went without his crutches, Remus’ attempt at a warning had earned him two weeks of dabbing foundation over the bridge of his cheek so no one at school would ask questions.

“Stop acting out!” his mum had screamed once as she pinned him to the wall, her nails digging into his throat and her expression blurry from his stinging eyes. “It won’t change anything!”

His parents’ breaking point was when Remus freaked out the entirety of his chemistry class when his mind insisted that the method the professor was teaching them was going to cause fire to catch on the hair of the girl at the far end of the classroom. He was called into the principal’s office during that class (escaped the smoke alarm going off and the screaming from someone who was going to have an unexpected style change, which was good) and then again at the end of school, with the addition of his parents, neither who were very happy about it.

It was then that he revealed, in a humiliated mumble, about the odd thoughts that continued to prove to have some truth.

The money for a doctor got on his parents’ nerves. He stopped visiting the therapist before any diagnosis could be determined.

Remus did his own research. Schizophrenia, bipolar, DID, OSDD, OCD, every relevant acronym and mental illness under the sun, yet nothing answered all of his questions. There weren’t any odd dreams, multiple voices weren’t clogging his mind, he didn’t feel out of place in his own body, he never saw anything that wasn’t really there.

Nothing explained the odd precognitions the voice gave him, the strange accusatory claims made of the people around Remus who he personally thought he was quite fond of, the baffling times where the voice tried to talk to him like it was any other casual conversation. Even things like how Remus was told not to cross that section of the road, or was mentioned a pretty-looking butterfly behind Remus that he hadn’t even seen yet.

Nothing ticked all the boxes. Nothing gave him all the answers.

Remus was in college, low grades, a shitty apartment, few friends who hated his boyfriend and a boyfriend who hated his few friends, when he reached his own breaking point with himself.

His boyfriend walked into the apartment, expression bored and eyes uninterested. Remus smirked over at him.

“You get my deodorant?” he asked, standing from the couch.

He didn’t, the voice said.

“No,” said Neroli. Remus wasn’t disappointed.

“I guess you’ll have to deal with the consequences of not entertaining me, then,” he said with a sharp grin, gripping Neroli’s shirt and tugging him down for a kiss. His boyfriend responded, suitably fervently. Remus was just getting to the point of reaching for his boyfriend’s belt when the voice growled, quietly, as if it hadn’t meant for Remus to hear, Cheating bastard.

It startled Remus so badly he yanked back from Neroli like he’d been scalded. He earned a bemused look from his boyfriend.

“Why, uh— why didn’t you drop by the shops?” Remus asked, hating himself for considering listening to the menace inside his head. Neroli shrugged dully, moving into the kitchen. He peered into the fridge.

“Got caught up.”

“With what?” Remus blurted, then screamed at himself for opening his mouth. Neroli shot him a dirty look.

“What, do you expect me to explain every second of my day to you?” he asked irritably.

“Only the fun parts.” Remus shot him another suggestive, toothy grin. It was ignored.

Don’t listen to it, whispered Remus to himself. Don’t listen to it.

Ask him where he was on the night you were studying with Logan, the voice said in reply. Remus growled and shook his head. The voice persisted; Ask.

“You look distracted,” Neroli noted, but he sounded detached.

“Maybe I’m thinking about you under the sheets,” Remus said.

Neroli didn’t entertain him.

“Maybe you’re cheating on me,” said Remus with another grin, waiting for Neroli to give him a reaction. His boyfriend merely glanced over at him with a considering look.

“Actually,” he said, and Remus’ heart dropped against his will, “I’m going to my friend’s place. I made plans with her instead of getting groceries.” He walked past Remus and took his car keys from the entry table.

Remus still remembered the way he had felt nauseous, and the ferocious feeling that had washed over him that somehow felt like the voice sounded when Neroli had said, “By the way, I’m breaking up with you,” without so much as a glance over his shoulder. “And I want you gone from the apartment by the time I come back.”

Remus had found himself with his head in his hands on the couch for the next few hours, going through the motions. He didn’t cry. He hadn’t cried for a long time. He had felt numb, even as the voice had murmured apology after apology.

Eventually, Remus had got himself and his things together and moved from the place, a worn backpack all to show for his possessions. He had ignored the voice ordering him to find somewhere to eat, some shelter to sleep, the demands to call his friends and ask for help.

Remus had spent the night of Christmas Eve shivering on a park bench, bag for a pillow and his own arms as a blanket.

(He couldn’t deny that it was his fault when Neroli got into a car crash on his way back to his apartment that morning.)

Over the following years, with more scenarios such as that, Remus learned that it was best if people knew he was insane. If they knew that, if they knew he heard things, and caused horror everywhere he went, they would stay away. If people stayed away, they saved themselves from a bad time and Remus from having to watch anyone he’d gotten attached to leave.

He was sick of people leaving.

Somehow, amongst this mindset, he hadn’t quite managed to shake a scattered few of his old college friends.

Logan, a nerd with a prime attitude and punchable face and also the least emotionally available person Remus had encountered, was somehow one of Remus’ main sources of support. He had taken up tutoring Remus, against Remus’ better judgement, and he had constantly offered his own house as a place for Remus whenever he needed it. Not that Remus ever accepted any of this, mind you.

The only problem was — Logan was feisty. Almost as feisty as Janus, and just as feisty as Roman. His stubbornness matched Remus’ and it was near impossible to shake the guy from an idea once he was fixed on it.

It was kind of endearing.

(It was also very difficult, given Remus’ goal in life had become to stop hurting people he cared about.)

Logan also rambled a whole lot, which Remus liked. It drowned out the voice, still present after all these years. It had quietened considerably, if Remus thought about it. It seemed to have a strange opinion on Logan. Remus ignored it, nonetheless.

This particular afternoon, Remus found that he couldn’t keep ignoring the cursed phenomenon following him.

“Are you paying attention?” Logan asked.

Remus smirked, keeping his eyes on the path in front of him. He kicked the stone again, and it skittered up the pathway then waited like a faithful dog for Remus to catch up. “More or less. Meteorology, right?”

He could tell Logan was looking at him. He probably looked outwardly annoyed, but there would be an amused spark behind the rim of his glances that never escaped Remus. “More or less.”

Remus bobbed his head. “Then yeah, I was listening.”

Logan hummed in agreement but didn’t resume the conversation. They walked in companionable silence along the street path, accompanied merely by the padding of their shoes and the tap-tap-tap of Remus’ stone. The road beside them was quiet.

“Remus?” asked Logan.

“Hm?” Remus said.

Tap-tap.

“Why don’t you come to my house tonight?” Logan asked. “It is New Year’s Eve. The others will be there. I would like for you to have some company.”

Oh, I have company, grumbled Remus. And it won’t shut up.

The voice, as if to solely prove him wrong, remained silent. Remus may have felt some indignation on its behalf, however.

Tap-tap-tap.

“Maybe,” said Remus, which meant No.

“Please,” Logan said, because he knew.

“Logan,” sighed Remus, “you know how I—”

“Yes,” Logan interjected. “I know it distresses you to have companionship, but truly, it is not such the awful venture that you have convinced yourself it is.”

Remus sighed again, his shoulders sagging. He stopped walking and edged away from Logan, no longer happy to be alone with him. He didn’t know what to say.

He was too busy formulating some semblance of a reply to pay attention to the rising anxiety in the back of his mind and the distantly increasing screeching sound.

By the time the speeding car spun around the corner across the road, he was too slow to react.

MOVE, the voice screamed.

Remus couldn’t.

Logan might have shouted, but he sounded like he’d moved — further away from where he had been standing. Probably to somewhere safe. That was good, at least. Logan had something to offer the world, with that big brain of his.

The car skidded across the road, moving too fast to regain control. It sped forward, wheels rolling along the path, barreling towards the spot Remus was standing.

MOVE, his voice was shrieking. Crying. Begging.

Remus didn’t.

The car, by some logic, didn’t hit Remus.

The car didn’t hit Remus, because it hit something — Remus didn’t see what, and later Logan would agree — first, and flipped like a goddamn pencil being flung across a bored classroom. The hunk of metal flew into the air, the bottom turning to the sky and the roof glinting down at Remus beneath it—

And crashed to the asphalt metres away from where Remus was standing, completely unharmed.

He and Logan stood there, speechless, for a very long time.

The police, once having caught up to the hit-and-run escapee, deemed it an accident on the driver’s behalf. Remus and Logan were dismissed from the scene without being asked any questions. Remus hadn’t spoken a word since it had happened, anyway. Logan had been the one to text their friends and talk to the officers. He had then guided Remus back to his apartment, where the others were already hanging out. They greeted Remus at first but left him alone once being waved away by Logan. He was brought into Logan’s bedroom and set on the bed.

“Now,” Logan said without wasting a beat. “What. Was. That.”

Remus blinked up at him. He worked his jaw. Nothing came out.

Some expositional bullshit? he mentally asked hopefully. The only answer he got was what vaguely felt like the embodiment of a winded wheeze of an exhausted runner. Fantastic help.

“I would like some answers, Remus,” Logan said, and he looked almost angry. “Odd things have happened in your presence before but nothing like this. I watched a car run into nothing and flip as if it had crashed into a row of bollards. You otherwise would have been flattened. You should be dead, or at least in the hospital.” Cool hands cupped Remus’ cheeks, and steel blue eyes bored into him. “I am eternally grateful that that is not what has happened, but I need answers.”

Remus tried to talk but didn’t. Logan pulled back and began to pace.

“We already checked the surrounding area,” he began to mutter. “There was no lip on the pavement, nothing to cause such a graphic result. The car’s wheels aside from being burned from skidding were not damaged. I don’t understand what—”

“I’m cursed,” Remus finally croaked. Logan paused to look at him. “It’s me, I—”

“No,” Logan said. “You have tried to tell me this nonsense before, I will not—”

“It’s true,” Remus said vigorously. “It has happened for years, Logan. Every time something mildly inconveniences me, everything goes to shit. Someone on the other end of the street could look at me the wrong way and suddenly they’re tripping over their untied shoelaces and dropping their groceries into the road. My boss doesn’t give me enough hours and suddenly she’s firing the co-worker I hate and giving me their pay. I don’t understand it, Logan, but you can’t keep denying it.”

“Remus—”

“There’s a voice,” he blurted, because he never had much of a filter. “There’s this voice, too. It’s the same one, but I can’t really hear it, you know? Imagine a single intrusive thought, but it’s always saying different things and some of them aren’t even bad.”

Logan now looked concerned. “Remus—”

“It acts like it’s my friend. Like we’re old pals looking out of each other. I hate it, Logan! It’s the reason no one wants to be around me! It’s the reason I can’t trust anyone I meet, because either they’re going to find about me and leave or the voice will tell me something about them that I don’t want to know but it’ll end up being true—”

“Remus.” Logan was crouched in front of him, his hands squeezing his shoulders. “Please breathe. We will work this out.”

“You can’t,” Remus told him. “I have already gone to every doctor, every psychiatrist. The moment I was free of my parents I went to every damn qualified person in this place, for years, and none of them know what it is.

“I went to a goddamn psychic, Logan.” Remus laughed wetly, shaking his head. “That’s how desperate I was. Dumb, right?”

“You are not dumb,” Logan said, and he said it with so much ferocity that it took Remus a moment to realise the voice had said the same thing, much quieter. “You’re troubled. You’re— you just need to find the right answers.”

“I don’t even know what questions I’m asking, anymore,” Remus said, and hated how broken he sounded. He pressed his forehead to Logan’s chest when he stood. “So I don’t know what answers we’re talking about.”

“We’ll figure out something,” promised Logan. “I promise.”

Remus closed his eyes, so tears wouldn’t get past. They stayed like that until Patton tentatively knocked on the door to ask them if they wanted to count down for the new year.

They did. They counted down, and cheered, and danced and sang and Remus drank until he passed out on the couch, snuggled between Janus and Logan. He didn’t even mind waking up the next morning with a throbbing headache.

Virgil referred Remus to his therapist, a cheery moron with an obsession with pink and cartoons. He seemed less focused on diagnosing Remus and simply talking. He referenced a lot of things Remus didn’t know. The voice seemed to like him — not that Remus cared about its opinions. Remus thought that maybe he liked talking to him.

Somewhere along the line, Remus and Logan started dating. Remus wasn’t sure how it had happened, either. He was fairly sure they had been reading on the carpet, and then the next moment they were pressed against the wall, down each other’s throats, so… Remus wasn’t exactly complaining.

There were bad days, where the voice hadn’t even done anything wrong and yet Remus clawed at his skull. Bad days, where he and Logan fought for real, which scared Remus (he wasn’t easy to scare, either.) At one point, Janus had picked a fight with the wrong group of people and got himself a concussion, which he recovered from fine, but sent Remus to bed with nightmares of blank eyes and bloodied skin for weeks after.

Eventually the dreams stopped, but Remus knew he hadn’t completely recovered when he found himself in the bathroom of an empty apartment, watching white porcelain run red.

Stop it. Remus still had little to no clue how so much as a voice could sound as if it was an aggravated wolf pacing in a tiny metal cage. You need to stop.

Don’t tell me what to do, Remus thought.

Don’t make me stop you myself.

Yeah, Remus thought with a scoff to himself. Good luck with that.

Remus. Please.

Remus shook himself, as if he could physically shake the voice from his head and continued. The voice went quiet.

Time passed, peacefully, blissfully quiet. The sink was stained further.

Remus was almost letting himself relax, but then the door slammed open, somehow, in the middle of the empty apartment, and Logan was standing in the doorway, looking furious, in the empty apartment.

“You said you were fine,” said Logan. Remus felt like a child caught with his hand stuck in the cookie jar. Crusty, bloody cookies. “You. Said—” Logan crossed the room and gripped Remus’s slick wrist in his— “that you were fine.”

“I am!” Remus protested. “I’m just—”

“You are NOT!” Logan roared. Remus flinched back. Logan stilled, then paled. Remus squinted at his far away gaze and wondered in horror why Logan looked as if he was listening to something. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he said quietly, “but you are not okay.”

Remus scowled and looked down at the sink he had ruined.

Logan hummed softly. “I’m going to call your therapist.” Remus whirled on him. “Just to book an earlier appointment, okay? I know you don’t like anyone helping you clean up.”

Remus scowled again. Logan brushed a cool hand across his chin and kissed his cheek. He pulled the medical kit from the cupboard and unpacked the bandages and antiseptic. He instructed Remus he was going to leave the door open. Remus silently got to work cleaning himself up.

Once Logan was out of sight (though Remus could hear him in the kitchen), Remus thought accusatorily, What did you do?

The voice said, without an ounce of regret or pride, I stopped you.

Stop interfering with my life. Whatever-the-fuck you are.

Somewhere, you’ve confused ‘protecting’ with ‘interfering.’

Remus threw the bottle of antiseptic across the room. It smashed against the wall and spilled across the bathtub. “SHUT UP,” he roared.

“Remus?” Logan called.

Get the fuck away from me, Remus growled before Logan hurried into the room.

“What is it?”

Remus shook his head. He couldn’t answer. He never did.

One night, Remus sat on the edge of his bed, staring across the room. The wall was bare. It let him concentrate on what he was thinking. For once, he started talking first.

You’re not a guardian angel.

No.

You’re not a demon, unfortunately.

Certainly not.

Then what the hell are you?

As usual every time Remus asked, the voice did not give him an answer. Remus ground his teeth until his jaw ached.

If there was one thing Remus had been certain of in the duration of his entire life thus far, it was that the voice in his head was nothing but trouble. Irritating, infuriating, no-good trouble. It only ever ruined his relationships, got him into sticky situations, told him things that he didn’t want to hear, even if it seemed to think it would help.

The first time the voice was helpful, Remus also felt like his entire mindset had been flipped.

Remus and Logan had been fighting. Worse than usual. Logan was blinking faster than he normally would. Remus was chewing his lip to bloody tatters. He wasn’t sure who had yelled, or what had been yelled, but suddenly it was silent. Logan and Remus stared at each other. Then Logan inhaled shakily and turned.

Remus’ arm shot out and gripped Logan’s wrist. Logan shot him a dark look, but Remus couldn’t explain himself. His voice had completely abandoned him. He worked his jaw. Logan’s eyebrows drew further together.

Remus, for the love of the clovers we picked and weaved as children, kiss him dizzy before I send you both through the window in a fit of pent up frustration-driven rage.

Their lips clashed and locked in a startling display of star-danced vision and warm hands linked at the fingers.

Remus forgot about the voice, about the curse. He forgot about every time he had let someone in only to be hurt, every boyfriend who had taken his heart in their hands and clenched their fists. He forgot every time he and Logan had fought; every time Remus had told himself that it was all a mistake. He even forgot about the constant buzz in the back of his head.

For once in Remus’ life, his mind was quiet.

It was that night, with Logan’s body pressed against his side, staring up at the ceiling, that Remus wordlessly reached for the voice in his head. Somehow, even though he felt nothing and heard no voice, it seemed as if his hand had been grasped.

Remus lay there and maybe for the first time, wasn’t entirely sure he hated the voice in his head.

The voice didn’t remain silent after that night, but it did quieten slightly. Remus made no move to communicate with it.

One day, though, when it was storming outside and Remus needed a distraction because his wrists were itching and his eyes were seeing blood every time he blinked, he spoke.

“You picked clovers.”

We did.

“You did,” Remus corrected, not quite ready to have it spelled out for him.

Yes, said the voice quietly after a moment.

“You’re a voice.”

I have a voice, yes.

“In my head.”

Well, technically—

Remus clenched his fists, frustrated. It seemed to get his point across.

Yes. I suppose.

For a moment, they were both silent. Remus didn’t outright state what he was thinking, but he wondered if something with connections to his mind could work it out.

I can try and prove it, the voice said dubiously. Remus didn’t reply. Lightning flashed outside, accompanied by a low rumble that ratted the house.

Then, from within the bedroom, a low creeeeeak.

Remus looked around dully, too apathetic to be disturbed. His eyes widened, however, when he watched the bedside table’s top drawer sliding open.

“That was locked,” he said. He stood up, his heart beginning to lodge itself in his throat. He staggered around the bed towards the drawer. “No, wait— Not even Logan can get in there— Stop it!”

Something, somehow, slipped from the drawer. Remus practically dove for it before it could crack against the floor and shatter irreparably.

“What do you think you’re—” Remus’ voice swallowed itself back into his chest when he made the mistake of looking down at the picture frame. He snarled against his lumpy throat and tore his eyes from the pair of younger, happier, brighter twins printed on paper. He shoved it back in its drawer and slammed it closed. He pulled himself up to lean against it.

The thunder rumbled again. Remus needed something to ground himself.

“You never told me who you were.” His voice cracked.

A pause.

You never asked, the voice said weakly. Remus felt something inside him erupt.

“What sort of BULLSHIT REASON—”

There was a knock at the bedroom door. “Rem?” called Janus’ voice.

Remus shook his head. “Just— give me a second. I need to uh—” he laughed nonchalantly, “yell at my thoughts for a bit.”

Janus sounded hesitant when he slowly said, “Okay,” but he didn’t press anything.

Remus listened to his fading footsteps and muffled conversation before whirling around as if he were actually facing someone and hissing venomously, “You are very lucky you’re incorporeal otherwise I’d— I’d—”

Kill me over again? the voice supplied.

Remus broke down. Completely against his will, if he had been able to add his own input between the sobs tearing from his throat.

I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, bad wording, horrible word choice, I—

“Why didn’t you SAY ANYTHING?” Remus roared.

What would you have liked me to say? That apparently one accident is enough for a spirit to form and develop a connection with their only blood relative?

“Better that than all this— this— mysterious bullshit my entire life!”

You already thought you were crazy! Roman yelled, a little hysterically. How do you think that would have helped? ‘Oh hello, don’t mind me, just your dead brother’s ghost haunting you through your grief.’

Remus wasn't sure how he’d never noticed it before — maybe he wasn’t paying enough attention, maybe now that he knew he was actively listening for it, or maybe he had even subconsciously suppressed thoughts like the one he was about to admit to himself — but now if he listened, really listened, he could hear Roman in the voice. The way his voice would get higher when upset, and the baritones of his indignation.

Remus didn’t realise he was sobbing harder until he heard both Logan and Roman’s voices overlapping, concern and worry swimming in his head.

Please breathe, Remus, you’re working yourself into a panic attack.

Like you would know anything about that, Remus said.

I would, retorted Roman’s voice, without fire.

“What is it, dear?” Logan was asking, his cool hands tracing Remus’ face. “What’s happened?”

Remus looked up at him, tears rolling down his cheeks, and said with a wet laugh, “I’ve worked out what the asshole voice is all about.”

Logan had led Remus into the kitchen and pressed a warm mug into his hands. Remus had absentmindedly wiggled the cup, watching the dark liquid inside ripple. After making sure Remus was recovering, Logan had ducked from the room to talk to Janus.

“Tell me,” Remus growled quietly. He didn’t elaborate. He knew that he was understood. Still, everything was quiet.

You know when people say your life flashes before your eyes?

Remus did. He didn’t say as much, but he did.

Well, it doesn’t. You don’t have time.

Remus tried not to think about how little time there would have been. How scary it could have looked, could have felt. His clasped hands turned white at the knuckles. “What did you think about?”

A sizable pause, but not one without the comforting ever-constant buzzing hum of the voice’s presence.

You, was the final admission, with no preamble. Logan, too, I think. Our family must have a thing for hot nerds, eh?

“You had a crush on Logan,” Remus said hollowly.

Only a little one.

“That’s… That doesn’t help.”

Sorry. He sounded genuinely apologetic.

“You’ve been fucking with me for years and you don’t seem to have much to apologise for it,” Remus mused.

Sorry, Roman said again, sounding even more like a remorseful kicked puppy.

Remus sighed long and low. His mug tapped roughly against the table as he shoved it away from him to bury his face in his hands. “I can’t believe any of this.”

He wasn’t sure that thinking the weird phantom warmth was ghosting over his shoulders was going to do anything good for his deteriorating sense of control over his emotions.

Tell me what to do, said Roman. Please.

Remus squeezed his eyes shut. He swallowed.

“Stay,” was all he could say. “Just. For a while.”

Unfortunately or not, you’re going to be stuck with me for quite a while.

Remus sniffed.

Very unfortunate, he agreed with a hint of a smile.

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #creativitwins #intrulogical #background virgil sanders #background patton sanders #background janus sanders #tw car accident #tw self harm #tw mention of mental illness #ghost fic #fanfic #long post #cross posted on ao3 #mentioned one-sided logince #tw language

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acephysicskarkat · 4 years

Note

I don't want to start fights, but don't you think you may be going way too far with the salt? It's one thing to not be happy with the way a show ended(and so many people think S5 was great, so you are in a huge minority already), but to insult the showrunner because *one* ship didn't become canon is going too far, mate. Catradora was there from the start, and Catra had an amazing redemption arc. Then again, I am just one person, so idk. Anyway, thanks. -Callum.

I actually respect Noelle Stevenson a lot: bringing a show like She-Ra all the way to its conclusion, producing seasons 1-4 (which are in fact really good), working hard for BLM, all while being out and proud in an industry that still has plenty of bigots around - these are legitimate achievements that are worthy of respect.

However.

1) I don’t give a shit how many people liked S5. I am allowed my own opinions on my own blog. If you don’t like my opinions the block button is right there. Telling me that a lot of fans like the season is an irrelevant data point because my opinions are not subject to majority vote.

2) Catradora was part of the disappointment that was S5, but it was far from the only thing. The strong ensemble cast, one of the best things about the show, is underused; every redemption arc is utterly weightless (Catra’s isn’t the worst but it’s still badly undercooked, of which more later), Glimmer and Bow are barely relevant despite the BFS being the show’s actual beating heart (I know Noelle says Catradora was supposed to be the heart but it’s never felt like that to me), everything related to Catra and Adora’s relationship feels forced, out-of-character and clumsy, the resolution is tied to a bullshit save-the-world button with unclear results, long-running elements like Adora’s family or the Catra/Shadow Weaver parallels are ditched in favour of coming up with dumb answers about what Greyskull means, and the writing is just kind of bad.

It has good elements - I loved the Star Siblings, I liked having Entrapta actually deal with the consequences of her actions, Melog and Wrong Hordak were good additions, and “Peril of Peekablue” was excellent, on par with something like “Mer-Mysteries” - but the season was considerably worse than all the others.

Like, I actually went into S5 going “The most likely outcome here is Catradora canon, but hey, maybe this will be the season that sells me on it” and it wasn’t. It really, really wasn’t.

3) Catradora was there from the start, but it was also badly done from the start and S5 did not meaningfully improve it. It’s actually my go-to on how not to tell an enemies-to-lovers arc because the “enemies” part is really prolonged, heavily emphasised, toxic, unpleasant, emotionally wearing and vicious and the “to” is super rushed and clumsy (of which more in the next bullet point). From "The Promise” to the end of season 4, there are no moments where Catra and Adora’s emotional connection does anything to soften the hostility; if anything, it makes Catra worse because it adds a really cruel and personal note to the whole thing.

Then S5 executes on it badly because it relies heavily on papering over inconvenient events and character development instead of trying to build organically on what has happened before. Catra telling Adora, “You never gave up on anything, not even me,” is my go-to example of this, because she did. It was the S3 climax and a huge moment for Adora’s personal arc! And then the show even reinforced it by having Adora throw a robot directly at Catra’s face with pretty unambiguous intent to kill, or at least severely wound, in "Flutterina”. But it’s not dealt with; instead, we get one questionable line of dialogue about pretending it never happened. Having Adora admit she was wrong to give up on Catra and swearing never to do so again could have been a really powerful moment, but instead of trying to do anything with the thing we saw happen onscreen, it’s just shoved under the rug. It’s bad writing and a huge waste of interesting potential. (It’s also bad planting and payoff; we get the setup in S3, the reminder in S4, and then it’s outright retconned away.)

4) Catra’s redemption arc is actually kind of bad. It’s not as bad as Hordak’s, which I only barely consider a redemption arc because it’s super truncated and he never admits to even doing anything wrong, but it’s bad.

First, it’s super fucking rushed. Literal years of seething, constantly building resentment disappear offscreen; there’s never a point where she meaningfully grapples with it or comes to realise that being “Shadow Weaver’s favourite” was also a hellish experience just in different ways. She does her one big redemptive act, gets forgiven instantly by everyone (including Adora, for whom it feels badly out of character given the aforementioned giving-up, her suspicion in “Princess Prom” before Catra had even tried to ruin her life once let alone six times, etc.), and her resentment just...vanishes in one hand-hold. It was her defining personality trait and the underlying cause for most of her time as an antagonist; it really should have been, you know, dealt with, instead of just forgotten. It does try to deal with her anger issues and problems expressing vulnerability, but that’s like saying that now that Azula has agreed not to torture small animals everything is fine; it’s far from the deepest issue here and pretending otherwise does the character and the show a disservice.

Worse than that, nothing she actually did feels like it means anything because the show just shoves it all under the rug. I’m not asking that she spend an episode personally making it up to each person she’s harmed a la Zuko, not least because after her participation in the sack of Salineas that’s more episodes than a long-running daytime soap opera, but at the very least using her actions in seasons 1-4 for something could have led to some really interesting scenes and good character moments and all that potential is instead just wasted. Angella’s death is just plum forgotten despite how important it was last season; the parallels between Catra’s actions in “White Out” and Horde Prime’s chips are never explored; the Shadow Weaver parallels the show’s been building for four seasons and explicitly stated in the graphic novel tie-in are just ditched and nothing ever comes of them; everyone who might not forgive Catra in under five minutes is mind-controlled until the season is almost over, contributing to the sidelining of the strong ensemble cast. It just feels like they didn’t know how to square Catra’s actions in seasons 2-4 with how they wanted her arc to end, so they just opted to pretend those actions never happened, and as a direct result the whole mess lacks texture and weight and doesn’t feel like a satisfying development for her story. It never feels like she’s dealing with the consequences for her actions, because her actions don’t have consequences.

Noelle once said that the driving question for Catra was “what happens when you’re the toxic friend”, and now we have the answer: nothing. Catra faces no long-term consequences for being the toxic friend. Perfuma’s one minute of being angry is the longest gap between Catra seeming sad and Catra getting forgiven. Nothing she did matters in the long run except in the sense that she’s kind of sad about them in aggregate. None of her bridges are burned so badly they can’t be fixed. And that’s a bad answer, because in real life when you’re the toxic friend people do refuse to forgive you instantly when you say sorry. Relationships do get trashed so badly they never recover. The pain you cause matters, and the traits that made you the toxic friend take work to overcome...unless you’re Catra, in which case the pain you cause suddenly stops mattering and your issues can be dealt with in under an hour offscreen.

Or at least, that’s my attitude. Like, if you liked the season, I’m not saying you’re an idiot or have bad taste. But I hated it. It could maybe have been good if it had been two seasons, actually allow Catra’s arc to breathe instead of speedrunning the whole thing, done more with the ensemble cast etc., but what we got was a rushed mess and telling me that “lots of people liked the rushed mess actually” is not relevant to that assessment.

(Just as a side note, if you really don’t want to start a fight, I’m not sure sending passive-aggressive asks to the tune of “have you considered that your opinions are Wrong actually and mine are Right” is the best way to go about it.)

#SPOP SPOILERS #S5 SALT

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visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Okay but the song “only us” from dear Evan Hansen and it’s Wanda and Vision either in the avengers compound or Edinburgh when Vision asks Wanda to stay with him. It is also a very nice song and makes me want to cry (really love your WandaVision mixtape fic ive read it so many times already)

oh gosh you’re destroying my heart with this one. thank you so much for requesting! the song fits them so well. I hope you like where I took this prompt though it might not be what you had in mind. I went canon divergence from CW but still at the compound for some extra comfort.

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Wanda and Vision’s Mixtape Track #22: Only Us by Laura Dreyfuss, Ben Platt

Synopsis: The Sokovia Accords are renegotiated so that the team are never divided. Following the successful signing of the document a press event is held at the compound. Wanda and Vision take a moment to breath away from the crowds, both have been holding back from each other for months, worried about risking their friendship. A simple miscommunication leads to a brief moment of angst as they realise their months of pining over each other has been mutual.

(ft. months of yearning, sky dancing, Wanda scaring a journalist away from her man, being too worried about each other to realise you’re literally in love--- )

The new Avengers Compound was the ideal location for press events. It gave the team the opportunity to host things on their own terms, in their own space and with their own security team – primarily Friday holding down the Compound’s fortress of a security network, as she so often did. Not to mention the sleek marble floors and tasteful interior décor made for great photo opportunities. Vision understood the logic of hosting the press event following the successful renegotiating of the Sokovia Accords at their home, but it did not make it easier to bare.

He’d just managed to escape the crowded living room after being trapped for half an hour between various news microphones. Vision figured he’d be safe enough by the hors d’oeuvres table which seemed empty enough what with the majority of the team engaged in the living room. He took a moment to relish the silence, turning away and pretending for a moment that it was just a normal evening and that soon enough he could settle down to watch television with his friends and Wanda.

Wanda. Vision grew nervous, perhaps he should have stayed by her side. The press were notorious for asking her the harshest questions to get the scoop they wanted. He hoped that things would be different with the new version of the Accords and the momentary peace it granted between the state and his teammates, but these reporters were sharks and Wanda was far too good at grinning and bearing it. She’d smile at as many cameras and dodge the worst of question if it meant securing a good report of her teammates to the public.

Brows furrowed in concern, Vision turned to make his way back to the living room and check in on her but found himself face to face with a short, eager man. His recorder was held at the ready, but he seemed a little more hesitant than those Vision had past experience with.

“Mr Vision, I’m Jeremy from the New York Gazette, I don’t suppose you’d mind sparing some time for a few questions?” Behind Jeremy a photographer waited, holding her camera up expectantly. Though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Vision knew how important it was to make a good impression, so he forced a smile.

Back in the living room Wanda’s hands had grown twitchy from being clasped in front of her for so long. She worried that if she didn’t then she’d fold them, something that could make her appear guarded and judgemental. No matter how on edge she was about this whole situation, it was only one night, and she had promised to do her best to be as appealing as possible to the strangers crowding their living room.

So far, she had only been approached by two gutsy journalists who took turns asking her questions about her role in the negotiations and her view on the resulting document they had all signed into. Their questions had been remarkably tame, a more pleasant experience than she’d had in the past, that was for sure. But they’d quickly grown tired of her civil answers, and a small voice in Wanda’s brain told her they’d wanted her to cause a scene and give them something they could really write about. No matter, she’d undermine all their expectations.

In search of comfort, Wanda found herself looking around the room for Vision, she had lost sight of him early on when the journalists had been let in to mingle with her housemates. But Vision was nowhere to be found, and so she grew concerned. Suppose he had been cornered by a particularly nosy journalist? Wanda hated being asked questions about her role in Ultron’s uprising in Sokovia, or the sickening accident she had caused in Lagos, but what really had her grinding her teeth was when these sharks turned their hungry eyes on Vision. He was a prime target for an interesting scoop, and he was too often kind enough to entertain their advances, even, when their questions became inappropriate.

Vision had been her safety net these last few months, always there when she needed a quiet moment away from the world that was so insistent on unpacking every part of her and scrutinising whether she was allowed to wield her own powers. Months spent negotiating with official state representatives intent on disproving her right to exist often became overwhelming. It was in those moments that she sought Vision out.

Many a sleepless night had been spent together, watching sitcom reruns in the living room and falling asleep on the couch together. It began as a simple comfort. But after nearly two years of living with Vision, Wanda worried that she was in danger of being very much in love with him. It had been thrilling at first, then scary, and now the uncertainty between them was agony. They always stopped one step before the edge, so Wanda could never work out if her feelings were being reciprocated or if his affection was purely platonic.

Regardless of her complex feelings around him in that moment, she needed to be there for him as he always was for her. A break had appeared in the throng around her, and Wanda made a beeline for it, catching Steve’s gaze as she passed him. He gave her a nod and she smiled back to assure him that she was alright.

Next to the spacious living room was the dining room which had been cleared of dining table and chairs and was instead occupied by a long buffet table occupied with dozens of different canapés. Wanda thought most of it looked wildly unappealing, perhaps she and Vision could get late night takeout once this whole ordeal was over. Her cheeks warmed at the potential and she quickly schooled the giddy smile from her face.

As she had expected, Vision had been cornered by a journalist and to Wanda’s dismay, she recognised him immediately. Jeremy Coin – he’d written a fairly scathing piece on her involvement in Stark Industries, questioning if she, as a ‘weapon of mass-destruction’ could be trusted with the secrets behind the biggest technological conglomerate in the West. Of course, his carefully timed article had coincided with a big charity launch that she had aided in. Wanda had to step aside from the project at the last minute, lest her presence affect the donations. Aside from volunteering with the charity side of the corporation that Pepper had invited her into, Wanda could hardly be said to be in possession of any industry secrets.

It was fair to say that she was not particularly keen on the man.

“Jeremy,” Wanda said, coming to his side and placing a dangerous hand on the man’s arm, a little bit of his own medicine you might say. It did not go unnoticed, and Wanda took pleasure in the fear on his face as he stepped back. “So lovely to see you!”

“Miss Maximoff,” the short man said, trying for a smile as he pushed back his oily hair, “ever a pleasure.”

“Vis,” Wanda said, shifting her weight so she was nearer him. Vision’s eyes darted between the two, reading the sharp changes in body language. “You all ok here?”

His eyes softened at her reassuring smile and he nodded. “Of course, Mr Coin and I were just discussing some of the more pointed areas of the new Accords,” Vision gestured to Jeremy, “he had some very interesting questions on the relevance of human rights to the discussion of sentient AI.”

Wanda’s stomach dropped. Of course, the snake would have something to say regarding Vision’s humanity.

“Oh,” Wanda purred dangerously and turned on Jeremy, who was now visible sweating, “do elaborate.”

“It was nothing really,” Jeremy said raising a hand in defence. “Perhaps, inappropriate given the newness of this agreement.”

“Perhaps,” Vision said with a tight smile and Wanda took pride in the air of sarcasm he used. “We can finish this off with a photo, then?”

“Of course, of course.” Jeremy hurried to wave the photographer closer.

“Wanda, dear?”

Wanda started at the endearment, Vision had only used it when he was teasing her about this or that. Never before had he used it as genuinely as he did now, and certainly never in public. He extended his elbow to him and she took it instinctively.

The camera flashed once or twice, and Wanda did her best to smile without looking like too much of a lovestruck fool.

“Thank you for your time,” Jeremy said, hurrying to backpedal back to the main event still ongoing in the living room.

“You’re welcome,” Vision said tightly.

“I can’t wait to see your next piece,” Wanda said, unable to help herself.

Vision managed to wait until the man had made it around the corner, practically running away from her, before he started laughing.

“You mustn’t scare him like that,” Vision said quietly to her.

“It’s harmless,” Wanda said shrugging, “besides he was asking you rude questions.”

Vision’s laughter died and he grew more solemn.

“Come on,” Wanda said grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the stairs. “We’ve done our parts for the evening.”

Vision tried to be reluctant about shirking his duty as Wanda lead him up to the roof, but he craved the alone time they spent together more than he cared about his responsibilities.

Vision loved the rooftop of the compound and had spent many evenings escaping the commotion within to stare at the stars above. This far from the city the constellations were remarkably visible.

The rooftop was often used as a space to wind down after particularly challenging days and so it was equipped with a sufficient number of fairy lights as well as a picnic table and barbeque set up. When they reached the rooftop Wanda dropped his arm, much to Vision’s dismay, and ran over to the picnic table where Bucky had left a small radio a few evenings prior. She stopped a foot away and pointed at it dramatically and the speaker crackled to life, music bursting forth. She turned it down a bit and then made to throw herself down in the middle of the courtyard of grass on the rooftop. They often lay there, side by side, Wanda pointed out it was the best way to watch the stars without getting a sore neck, but Vision just liked being able to see the wonder on her face.

This time however, Vision reached out and caught her hand.

“A dance, first?” Vision asked holding out his other hand. “As a thank you for coming to my rescue?” Wanda’s cheeks reddened at the invitation, but Vision was too focused on internally reprimanding himself for taking the selfish opportunity to get closer to notice.

Wordlessly, she accepted his hand and pulled herself closer. Vision’s chest constricted slightly as she slipped one hand over his shoulder, the other coming to rest lightly in his left hand.

“I don’t think I have ever danced like this,” Wanda murmured, this close she had to look up to meet his eyes and Vision grinned down at her.

“There’s a first time for everything.” He pulled her a little closer and took note of the challenge in her gaze as she tightened her grip on his hand.

They started slow, moving in time with the ballad playing over the radio. Wanda got the hang of the steps easily and Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had once thought to investigate simple step dances, precisely for an occasion such as this. If anything, he was the one stumbling, forgetting to count his steps owing to Wanda’s intent gaze never leaving his eyes.

When Vision started to float, Wanda joined him. A red mist surrounded the tips of their feet as they spun into the air. Wanda’s laugh was music to his ears as they kept tight grips on each other, and she sent them spinning around and around. The world below and around them fell away and Vision could only see her, the light of her smile and the happiness shining in her eyes. Never was he as happy as he was with her. What he would do to spend the rest of his life with her…

On Wanda’s cue Vision spun her away and she twisted gracefully upon her magic before returning to his embrace. Her back came to a rest at his chest with his arms around her waist as they swayed and slowly drifted to the ground.

Feet now flat on the ground, the gravity of his body returned, along with the gravity of the situation. Wanda turned slowly in his embrace and Vision froze, unable to move as she turned her eyes on him. He couldn’t help but mimic her body language and they both leaned in. He watched her eyes widen as they flitted desperately about his face and Vision stopped.

He turned his head sharply to the side and took several deep breaths. Dropping his hands from Wanda’s waist he hurriedly took a few steps back, worried of what he might do without the distance to separate them. She was his friend, his closest friend and he would not risk making things estranged simply because of the futile feelings captivating his normally rational mind.

“We ought to be getting back downstairs, Tony said they wanted a group photo at the end.” His voice didn’t sound right following the tense silence that stretched between them.

Wanda’s eyes had grown shadowed, and she turned away from him.

“Why must you do that?” Wanda asked and Vision started at the rawness in her voice.

“Why must I do what?” He asked, forcing his vocal cords to act.

“You start things, you get close and then you pull away from me again and again,” she said, and Vision was horrified to see her turn and reveal that her eyes were brimming with tears. “You are so straightforward with everythingelse! If you don’t want me that way, you just have to say it.” A hand came shakily to her mouth and she wrapped her arms around herself, turning away from him.

Vision was dumbstruck and stood like an idiot for a few moments while he tried to process what she had just said. In his silence Wanda kept talking. “It’s fine, clear as day, let’s just forget I said anything.” He watched her surreptitiously wiping at her eyes and rolling her shoulders back. How many times had he seen her do the same thing on the days when it was difficult to face the world? Never before had he thought he might become the source of her hurt.

“Wanda,” Vision reached out to catch her fingers as she tried to walk away from him, “how could you ever think I wouldn’twant you?”

She spun on him and snatched her hand away. “What do you mean?”

“Of course, I want you,” Vision said, his voice hitching in exasperation. “I just worry about my feelings ruining our friendship, I understand you don’t feel the same—”

As he babbled, hoping to mask his abrupt confession, Wanda stalked closer until they were nearly nose to nose.

“Hello,” Vision breathed, going cross-eyed now that she was before him.

Wanda laughed, an exasperated smile on her face in stark contrast with the tears she had almost shed moments ago. “We’re both fools.”

“We are?” Vision asked hesitantly.

She bit her lip and leant closer, her forehead brushing his. Her hands found his and it was as though little sparks danced between them as she trailed her fingertips up his palms. Vision shivered though he did not feel the cold.

“We’re trying to confess the same things here,” Wanda whispered but Vision’s eyes had shut, and he was desperately trying to hold onto his composure as her fingers made their way up his forearm.

“I—we are?”

He felt Wanda nod.

“Please don’t leave me to infer things, I’m clearly not very good at it,” Vision whispered, and he pressed his forehead to hers longingly.

“Then let me say it,” she said, her voice a whisper upon his cheek, “I’ll say it as many times as you need me to.”

He was holding his breath.

“I’m falling in love with you.”

Vision melted.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited—” but he didn’t have the chance to finish his sentence before Wanda was kissing him and the world was falling away.

It was months of anticipation paying off in one glorious moment and Vision felt sure that he was flying again. His hands came up to cup Wanda’s cheeks as they moved in sync. He finally drew back with a laugh and grinned as Wanda teased another kiss from him.

“All this time I was holding myself back, thinking you could never be interested in me, I worried I wouldn’t ever be good enough for you.” The truth flowed out in a rush now that he’d admitted to the secret he’d kept hidden the past long months.

“Oh Vis,” Wanda murmured, turning forlorn and raising a hand to his cheek. She made to continue but huffed in frustration as she searched for the right words. In the end she instead pressed her forehead to his, the mind stone flickering at the familiarity of her touch. And then a rush of emotion hit Vision as she started to project her feelings to him. It was something else to hear her tell him she was falling for him, but to feel that emotion coursing from her to him. Vision let loose a shuddering breath. Her longing, her worries, her fears. In return, Vision did his best to call forth the longing he felt for her, the burning love that was growing in his heart day in day out and pushed it her way.

Wanda laughed happily at this and drew back, her eyes shining. Vision nodded in understanding and turned his chin into her hand, kissing her palm tenderly.

“Let’s forget the dumb doubts, just forget all those irrational worries and let’s just—” Wanda shook her head happily, “just be us.”

In that moment Vision would have done anything she asked but he settled for a tender kiss. Wanda sighed wistfully into him and he trailed his arms down her back to hug her to him.

Wanda couldn’t recall when she had last felt this happy, but it went beyond your average joy, she was ecstatic. Every worry from earlier in the evening, her months spent agonising over his true feelings for her all fell away. It was impossible to not be lost in him, not when she finally had him where she wanted him. She drew her arms up over his shoulders and hugged him tightly, delighting in how perfectly their bodies matched, his chin coming to rest atop her head. The rest of the world fell away and reassembled itself around her, now reoriented with Vision at its centre.

“It’s just you and me,” Vision whispered in her ear.

“There’s nothing else in the world that I need.”

They stayed content in their own little world, not longing for anything except the shared comfort of each other’s warm embrace.

#wandavision #scarletvision #scarlet vision fanfiction #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #vision #wanda x vision #visionsofusfics #its all about the yearning #sweet sweet longing #bit nervous about posting this one #but I hope everyone likes it

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thanksjro · 4 years

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Robots in Disguise (2012), #1-22- A Recap, For Reference Purposes

Before we begin with “Dark Cybertron”, a lightning round style recap on the 22 issues that took place in the sister series to MTMTE, Robots in Disguise; just so we know what’s up with all the folks who didn’t hitch a ride on the Lost Light.

Here’s the Story So Far, since it’s been a minute.

Now for the nitty gritty.

Cybertron is a literal hellscape, as established in The Death of Optimus Prime, the very flora of the planet trying to murder anything that comes within a few miles of the surface. This has caused a massive economic slump in the tourist trap towns, who surely will not survive without the summertime revenue. Truly, life is cruel and not worth living.

Bumblebee narrates, as we show off all the weirdoes who live on Cybertron now. Bumblebee tries to greet a new batch of arrivals, as Metalhawk actively attempts to make him look like Satan incarnate, because all the NAILs have gone full ACAB at this point.

A robot who looks like he’s wearing a beanie commits vandalism and is then subjected to violence via Decepti-cop.

This is more or less the flavor for RID as a whole. You have been warned.

Prowl breaks someone’s hand just because he can. Blurr is made to arrest someone for disturbing the peace, even though he’s, like, basically the only guy on the Autobots who isn’t a cop. Bumblebee doesn’t believe in democracy.

Ratbat is the leader of the Decepticons, even though Soundwave is right friggin’ there. We establish that the military state is in full swing. Prowl commits a microaggression against a Senator. Ratbat gets pissy about his guys going out to beat people up, not because it violates his moral sensibilities, but because it benefits the Autobots.

Probably that you’re killing people by remote control, in as horrified a tone as he could manage, because that’s FUCKING EVIL. Seems pretty straightforward to me.

Prowl says to cancel the memorial for the Lost Light, because he thinks the Decepticons are up to something. Which they are.

Everyone hates the Autobots. Like, everyone.

Ironhide runs away from a murderous hedge and smashes into a wall. Prowl has a talk with a mysterious individual about his feelings during a romantic sunset.

Metalhawk releases hat guy from prison. He and Bumblebee have a little chat, during which he tries to gaslight the little guy. Bumblebee explodes Horri-Bull’s head in front of at least 30 people.

Except he actually didn’t, because the chips don’t actually work. T’was a ruse! Starscream enters the narrative. Ratbat used to be an actual person and not just a bat. Sideswipe wants to shoot someone. Bumblebee tasers a man unprovoked; guess he’s picked up a little paranoia from that time he got shot.

Starscream calls Prowl ugly, then spills the beans on Ratbat’s plan to kill Bumblebee at the memorial, solely because he thinks Ratbat is an idiot. Needlenose and Skywarp beat up a NAIL to work through their emotions.

Bumblebee shows a snuff film to hundreds of people at the memorial. Skywarp tries to frame a NAIL for murder, but Prowl says nuts to that idea, through the power of dramatic irony.

Long Haul tells a fib. Bumblebee and Metalhawk agree to work together. Ratbat gets turned into chunky salsa by Arcee, who will use the excuse of self-defense if questioned. Starscream pulls some fucking bullshit and third-wheels the agreement between Bumblebee and Metalhawk.

Ratbat’s death is played off as a suicide. Blurr is still a cop. Starscream is helpful. There’s a guy who looks like a frog, and I don’t care for what his eyes are doing.

Frog guy explodes, because nature is a cruel mistress.

Wheeljack has a hell of a time trying to answer the phone in the middle of an economic debate. Prowl is paranoid. Starscream handles the housing crisis. Wheeljack visits the hospital and causes a scene. Another explosion happens, killing dozens, including this guy:

You will be missed, Tiddytron.

Wheeljack realizes that the moon is trying to kill everyone, so he shoots missiles at the problem. The Aerialbots fuck off into the wilderness.

The Decepticons get some perks now that Starscream’s a government employee. Starscream destroys the military state through the power of talking over people. Prowl and his cronies investigate a murder at the trash factory.

Bombshell is arrested for thought crime, and spills the beans on the I/D chips not working. Prowl has Dirge on a chain for some reason, and it ends up causing nothing but trouble. Blurr runs every red light in the city to make a citizen’s arrest, and gets his ass kicked by a bunch of construction workers. Prowl has a complex about Spike Witwicky.

Prowl fixes the I/D chip issue and things go poorly for the construction workers. Blurr gets upset about having his ass kicked by construction workers. Prowl is very paranoid, even as he has a borderline pinup panel devoted to his weird robot bellybutton and positively ridiculous cinched waist. I begin to worry about how much I’m learning about Andrew Griffith’s tastes.

The poetry shark shows up.

Arcee reveals a little bit about herself, and I shed a tear as I shake my fist in the general direction of England, cursing Simon Furman’s name.

Metalhawk brings Sky-Byte to a literal trashcan fire to meet his buddies, and they all rag on the Autobots for a while.

Ironhide goes joyriding and finds Sky-Byte Oh Yorick-ing a Sweep’s head. Turns out they have a history. Blurr reveals his dream to own a bar. Metalhawk brings up the fact that setting up a group of folks to have their heads explode if they step out of line is some dystopian bullshit.

Sky-Byte meets up with his old buddy Swindle, and gets the skinny on the bullshit that’s being pulled on this brand-new Cybertron. Everything goes to shit very quickly. Streetwise gets set on fire. Prowl needs to stop. Ironhide commits violence against the general populace, then advocates for the removal of the I/D chips.

Blurr opens a bar, and it’s dinosaur-friendly. Prowl commits property damage on a table, because he’s tablephobic. Ironhide reveals the future.

Shockwave sends an entire race of Big Birds to their frozen demise. Orion Friggin’ Pax comes back into the narrative, in the middle of his giant fuck-off-from-responsibility space adventure. Wheelie and Garnak are here, which is cool, I guess. Jhiaxus yells a bunch, and Orion decides to go to Big Bird planet.

It’s farkin’ cold in here.

Orion and Hardhead talk about Rodimus’ tumultuous relationship with death. Shockwave is the only person in the universe who understands quantum mechanics. Monstructor wakes up from his cryo-sleep. Wheelie and Garnak are grievously wounded, and the patch job seems less than medically sound, since we’ve just put a screw into Garnak’s orbital socket to hold his eye-patch in place. Orion walks into a trap, knowingly and willingly.

Wheeljack does some espionage, even though Mirage is right friggin’ there. Turmoil swings by Cybertron to say hello- the Decepticon, not the emotional state. Drift is outed as a war criminal- well, more so than originally thought. Turmoil has a time machine.

Sky-Byte and Jazz team up for slam poetry night. Blurr tells Metalhawk a story. Wheeljack’s espionage adventure goes poorly. Turmoil gets trapped in a hamster ball. Wheeljack and Metalhawk get trapped in a hamster ball.

The Dinobots and Ironhide go on a camping trip. Starscream craves democracy. Skylynx is a glorified taxi. Slag hasn’t changed his name yet, despite half of the people working for IDW being from the UK. Swoop breaks down IDW Phase Two to its bare essentials.

Prowl sits on someone’s desk, because he doesn’t respect tables. Slag’s face is on fire all the time, and it’s sort of distracting. Swindle bothers Shockwave. Ironhide is attacked by the Dinobots.

Bumblebee sits outside and has some Night Thoughts. Cybertron wants everyone to stick together, and God help you if you don’t. Bumblebee is beginning to develop a complex. Blurr is upset with himself. Ravage and the Reflectors go on an adventure. The time machine isn’t actually a time machine. The time machine disappears.

Ironhide finds the Aerialbots, who have been combinered by the horrors of new Cybertron. Everyone yells at Bumblebee.

We get a taste of Old World Cybertronian propaganda, where everyone talks in the third person, as is tradition. Starscream gets curvier every issue. Again, I begin to worry about how much I’m learning about Andrew Griffith’s tastes.

Blurr causes an explosion in the wilderness looking for Ironhide, much to Starscream’s delight. There is a Titan under the ground, and its very existence is making reality shit the bed. Tailgate’s lies in MTMTE are so extensive, red herrings have leaked into the sister series.

Nova Prime commissioned Monstructor, and Omega Supreme hated it so much he punched it in the face.

Starscream invites a bunch of friends over to see the Titan. Brainstorm is used as a scale for end-of-the-world scenarios. Starscream is revealed to be chosen by the gods.

The Reflectors visit a planet and shit gets weird very quickly. Wheelie is about to have a goddamned stress-induced aneurysm, not that Orion particularly cares. Time nonsense is established. Wheelie-speak becomes plot-relevant. Livio Ramondelli subjects me to his nightmares’ nightmares.

Starscream gets interviewed on national television. Starscream owns a hat that makes him look like a Gundam. Omega Supreme explodes. Metalhawk flip-flops between who he’s defending like a fish on the dock. Starscream yells at Shockwave for being an instigator. Prowl and Starscream make a deal.

Arcee stabs a cat in the throat. IDW settles the debate- at least for their own continuity- and says RIRFIB. Prowl takes a fireball to the face to convince people he’s on the up-and-up. Arcee is smarter than Starscream. This asshole shows back up.

Bumblebee really, really wants to kill Megatron, but politics demand he be taken in as a POW. The fellas construct a conspiracy theory. Starscream tries to lead his peers, but it goes poorly. Not a single medical professional of Cybertronian descent actually keeps track of their patients. Maccadam’s gets several light fixtures ruined by Arcee. Wheeljack gets called a tool. Prowl shows up in his hot new body, decked out with enough weaponry to annihilate a small country and a gun that’s as big as he is.

Starscream gives Megatron a piece of his mind. The Decepticons are rioting in the streets. Prowl shows Wheeljack his toys. Arcee plays her trump card. Bumblebee tries his hand at negotiation.

Bumblebee learns a valuable lesson about leadership. Politics are hell. Megatron is released from prison. Democracy finally gets its day. Megatron enters the Black Room with his whole ass hanging out. Pretty much every Decepticon you thought was dead isn’t actually dead.

Metalhawk gets a taste of how 24/7 news has ruined everything. Prowl is revealed to be the mastermind behind all the bullshit that’s been going on the last few months, and he’s been working with Megatron. Swindle gets run over by a train. Wheeljack’s head is turned into a memory by Prowl. The crazy-making signal out in the wilderness was made by Megatron. Megatron walks in in his hot new bod, carrying his old one like his new bride. And what a pretty bride it is.

We get a literal talking heads sequence explaining just how exactly Megatron survived the events of “Chaos” and why Combiners are the bees’ knees. Prowl isn’t Prowl, but actually being controlled by Bombshell.

Dang, wonder who could have caused that, CHROMEDOME.

Prowl is released from his mind-control, and immediately plays the blame game with Bumblebee. The Constructicons and Prowl have a thing going, and show it off, much to Bumblebee’s horror.

Circuit gets given Fixit’s dialogue for some reason, and I can’t tell if this was an issue on the art side or the script side. Devastator wrecks shop. Megatron laughs at Starscream for being a loser, then crushes Bumblebee’s head like a grape. Ironhide finally shows up to the party, and he brought a veggie platter.

Jazz tries to warn the medical staff about the Combiner coming their way, but no one ever listens to Jazz. Prowl has a crisis of self. Jazz breaks up the two-man act. Megatron let Bumblebee keep his cane, proving that even heartless monsters can respect the Disabilities Act.

Ironhide and the Dinobots save the day. Superion and Devestator get into a fistfight. Prowl reaffirms his complex over Spike Witwicky. Bumblebee says some halfway transphobic shit, and I shed a tear as I shake my fist in the general direction of England, cursing Simon Furman’s name. Arcee switches sides again and stabs Bombshell in the face. Prowl takes a nap. The tides turn.

Ironhide resists Frenzy’s sonic attack through the sheer power of gumption. Skywarp says fuck this and gets out of dodge. Devastator becomes a real boy.

Bumblebee WILL kill Megatron. Arcee makes it weird. Ironhide helps Prowl figure out his life. Bumblebee never learns. Metalhawk saves his BFF, and gets his arm shot off for his troubles. Starscream uses Metalhawk’s fuck-you-level long arm to kill a man.

Swindle carries a dude twice his size to safety with one of his arms off. Needlenose gets his just desserts. Devastator rips off his head to escape his crippling self-doubt. The Constructicons are having a hell of a day.

You said it, Hook.

Wheeljack saves the day from beyond the grave, that clever man. Metalhawk is killed by politics. Hat Guy tries to fight Bumblebee, and gets mad that he doesn’t remember his name. They’ve spoken to each other maybe once.

Metalhawk is made into a playing chip by Starscream, and also a speech writer from beyond the pale. Starscream tells everyone to get naked or fuck off, then takes off his top. All the Autobots and Decepticons who don’t want to get naked fuck off into the wilderness.

The Dark Cybertron “Prelude" issues kick in.

Shockwave and Dreadwing fly through the photorealistic sky to get to where the Titan is.

Listen here you little shit-

Shockwave shoots Dreadwing to test a theory, because ethics are for nerds.

Back when Shockwave was a hot guy with feelings, Jhiaxus was dealing with the Monstructor thing, then fucked off into space. Shockwave took the opportunity to be better than his teacher in every way, as is tradition. Proteus threw a whole-ass person across the room, because classism. Shockwave revealed himself to be a budding ecoterrorist. Shockwave joined a terrorist organization to further his own goals. Orion Pax tried to appeal to Shockwave’s softer side. Megatron killed the Senate. Shockwave replaced his shitty claws with a gun. Shockwave shot Dai Atlas in the legs and can’t explain why.

Dreadwing comes back to life, thanks to the power of Shockwave’s 14th ore.

Bumblebee has the Big Sad about Starscream being King of Iacon. Arcee doesn’t know what emotional turmoil feels like. Metalhawk’s lifeless body lays in the sun for several hours. Prowl is propositioned by the Constructicons. Arcee tells Prowl’s darkest secret, and it kills Bumblebee. Swoop is having a great time.

Arcee knows about Bumblebee being Hasbro’s golden boy. Prowl uses his manners, but only when no one can hear him. Arcee and the Constructicons get into a fight, with more flaming swords getting involved than you might expect. Slag offers to buy Arcee a drink.

Bumblebee gets a hot new body. Arcee gives herself a stick-and-poke tattoo. In a few hours, the sun will rise.

Pal, you are way ahead of schedule.

Shockwave makes a dramatic entrance.

Waspinator tells a story about the time he killed a servant of God and met death. Orion and pals visit Gorlam Prime. The Dead Universe comes into the narrative again. Wheelie has his arm blown off to keep from getting disintegrated, but he shrugs it off, because life is always awful for Wheelie.

Waspinator gets chased through the desert by Monstructor. Orion Pax acts like a dumbass. A Titan is revealed. Monstructor rides on the time-travel ship like it’s a horsey. Waspinator controls a Titan and makes it teleport. Orion plays fourth-dimensional chess, and reveals that his personal ship is named after his best friend.

Starscream talks to a corpse. Blurr tells Starscream to fuck off. A very good boy enters the narrative. The paparazzi ruin Starscream’s attempt to get underlings to do what he wants. A literal rat enters the narrative.

Starscream talks to Megatron, and I genuinely don’t have the words to explain what exactly is going on with that guy. Starscream takes a gander into the very good boy’s toolbox. The very good boy lays it on thick. Starscream destroys a man’s reputation.

Starscream breaks into Rattrap’s apartment. Rattrap becomes a government employee. Starscream talks to Wheeljack, who isn’t dead.

Soundwave has a flashback to when the Decepticons surrendered after the Chaos event, confirming that Ratbat was universally hated. Soundwave has robo-synesthesia. Shockwave is the perfect Cybertronian- Soudwave hates him for it.

Shockwave calls his teacher. Ravage judges Soundwave. The Decepticons reminisce on the time they resorted to cannibalism. Soundwave thinks mourning is for dumb babies and tells everyone to shut up because he’s big man on campus now.

Nobody deserves it more than you, babe.

The infighting begins, because no Decepticon has the ability to be halfway decent to each other, and they won’t learn that skill for a good while. Needlenose throws Blitzwing across a field and admits to having feelings. Soundwave is abandoned by the Decepticon forces.

Soundwave talks to himself in the Crystal City, then gets his ass kicked by Dreadwing.

In the past, Shockwave calls Bombshell a loser and outdoes him.

Soundwave kills Dreadwing. Shockwave hides in the shadows like a weirdo. Soundwave is done trusting Shockwave. Soundwave grabs Shockwave by the boob and yells at him. Soundwave is a hopeful guy.

In the past, Soundwave stole Ratbat’s brain and put it in a cassette, proving that space-Communism only works on paper.

Soundwave punches Shockwave in the head. Shockwave assumes Soundwave is alone, despite knowing he can contain many small men inside him.

Shockwave explodes a cat. Soundwave fires missiles at Shockwave and hits him in the tit. Shockwave would fuck Microsoft Excel if he could. Frenzy is just happy to be here- no, I didn’t mix them up, the colorist did.

Ravage is a grown-ass man. Soundwave’s synesthesia used to be a lot worse. Shockwave sends Soundwave and pals home. The Titan and Waspinator show up.

Soundwave has a face. Ravage and all the other cassettes are emotional support animals, who are also fully sapient.

Shockwave’s gonna fuck everything up.

And THAT, dear children, is the entirety of Robots in Disguise, up to issue #22. We’re all caught up and ready.

#transformers #rid #exrid #recap #maccadam #Hannzreads #text post #long post

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