#and feel totally overwhelmed and useless and like a failure

[arctrooper69]

Solidarity

You have friends here - family. Sometimes you simply need silence to hear what you need to hear.

A/N: Part of @clonexreaderbingo for the square: "Stay with me"

Warnings: Panic attack, feeling useless, anxiety.

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The mission was successful. No one was hurt, nothing had been compromised. The mission objective had been more than fulfilled and spirits were high - even Hunter sported a sly grin. Wrecker's boisterous, joy filled laugh echoed down the wooded trail towards the Marauder. For once, everything had gone according to plan. So why did it feel so heavy? Disconnected - like you were trapped behind a window, watching everyone else play their part?

Echo came behind you, clapping a hand to your shoulder. He smiled, "You did good today."

You pulled your face into what you hoped seemed like a believable smile, but for some reason, his words of encouragement made you feel worse.

"You did good today."

Had you really though? You sighed, Probably not. He was just saying it to placate you, so that you didn't feel like a total failure. It didn't work.

You recalled how you fell at least three times, tripping over your own feet.

Clumsy.

You couldn't seem to hold your blaster steady.

Weak.

Everything had been so overwhelming and frankly you'd been terrified.

Coward.

Even Omega had done much better than you, and she was a child. At least she was useful. You watched as she playfully skipped up the ramp and sighed.

What the hell is wrong with you!? Your inner voice scolded. Jealous of a kid!? That's really kriffing pathetic.

You trudged up the ramp into the Marauder, guilt tugging at your chest, weighing you down as it had been for some time now.

"Are you ok?"

You jumped as a low voice interrupted your self-sabotaging spiral. Of course Echo would be the one to notice. Great. Now you had soured his mood as well.

Shifting away from him, you tightly folded your arms against yourself as you leaned on a crate just inside the doorway. Everyone else had already disappeared into the main part of the ship. You doubted they even noticed your absence.

"I'm fine." You lied. "Just a little tired. That's all."

Echo was silent, and for a moment you thought he'd believed you and left to go celebrate with the others. Your heart sank. Part of you had actually hoped he'd stay.

You shifted again and to your surprise, he hadn't moved. He regarded you carefully, face unreadable. He took a breath and then looked up at you.

"Okay." He said calmly, almost casually. He jerked his head towards the ramp. "Let's go for a walk."

The two of you were silent, taking in the fresh summer air. The last rays of sunlight slowly faded behind the horizon leaving you in the soft evening glow of moonlight. You were greatful for the silence as Echo climbed up over a grassy hill and sat down. You sat beside him and the heavy feeling in your chest suddenly felt much heavier.

"So," Echo began slowly. You could feel his penetrating gaze and it only made you want to hide your face in shame. You didn't meet his eyes. Because then he'd see how weak you actually are, sneered your inner voice.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?"

"I'm -"

"Yeah no," he interrupted. "Don't tell me you're fine because I know you aren't."

You were silent because you knew that if you opened your mouth to speak, you wouldn't be able to stop from breaking down completely.

"I don't belong here." You whispered around the lump in your throat.

Your heart sank, expecting him to scoff or throw out a cliched affirmation like the ones you'd heard your entire life:

"Of course you belong!"

"We're here for you."

"Keep your head up. It'll get better soon."

Empty promises from people who only pretended to care just enough to placate your needy anxieties. Just enough to seem polite. But Echo was silent.

"What makes you think that you don't belong?" He asked quietly.

"I..." You choked, unable to keep back the tears any longer. You felt heavier than ever. "I'm not smart like Tech or strong like Wrecker. I can't fight like Hunter or slice code like you." Your chest bucked in a futile attempt to hold back the sobs. "Even...even Omega is more useful than me."

Your breath came in jagged gasps as tears fell hot and heavy down your face, soaking the knees of your trousers where your head rested, arms curled protectively around your legs.

"I can't...." You gasped, lips tingling with the all too familiar numbness of panic, fingernails drawing blood from your tightly clenched fists.

"Listen to me." Echo was speaking but he sounded muffled - far away.

"Hey." He called your name, putting a hand on your arm. His voice was firm and unwavering, but it held a genuine kindness. His voice was grounding.

"Echo?" You whispered shakily.

"Yeah. Im here." His flesh hand squeezing your shoulder provided a strange sense of comfort. "Just breathe, okay? Ill do it with you."

Slowly your breaths began to sync with his.

In. Out. In. Out.

Echo sat beside you silently. He didnt bother to ask if you were alright again. He knew you weren't - and that was okay. Sometimes all you needed was a friend. Silent support - though it broke his heart that you thought you weren't useful.

"Can you stay here with me for awhile?" You whispered, taking another shuddering breath.

"We can stay out here as long as you need to." He replied and you nodded gratefully.

He opened his mouth, then paused, closing it again as though there was something he wanted to say but thought better of it. He shook his head. No. This was important.

"I dont think you're useless." He uttered quietly. You lifted your eyes. Where you'd expected pity, you found only Echo's hard gaze of sincerity.

"In all honesty, we'd have fallen apart a long time ago if you weren't here."

You scoffed and looked down, not meeting his eyes, but Echo continued as if he hadn't heard.

"You're the one who Omega comes to at night when she has a nightmare. Not me, not Hunter or Wrecker or Tech. You." He softly chuckled to himself. "You're the only one who managed to pull a smile from Crosshair after we got him back. Crosshair. Our snarky, pissed-off-sniper of a brother. You got him to smile after all he'd been through."

You still refused to look up at Echo, but the sound of his voice was soothing.

"And Hunter said that the headset you built gave him the best night sleep in a long time. Sure, Tech helped you build it....but it was your idea."

He gently paused, watching your shuddering breaths slowly give way to calmer ones.

"...and," he began again hesitantly and stopped. Then with the confidence of the ARC trooper he was, he continued. "You dont take shit from anyone. No wonder Wrecker always partners with you on missions. You're tough. And you're smart. I've seen you take hits that would probably take me out, and you bounce right back up. Yeah, maybe you don't speak up a lot but I've seen your strategies at work in the field. You help keep us together. As a team, and as a family. So don't you dare think that you're useless, because you're not!"

Echo trailed off into an awkward silence as though realizing you probably didn't want all this. He hadn't meant to get so passionate towards the end. You blew it, Echo. Now she thinks you're just patronizing her.

"Echo?"

He raised his eyes to meet yours, dragging himself from those nagging anxious thoughts.

A faint smile tugged at your lips. "Thank you."

Echo squeezed your shoulder again. It would be a while before the weight lifted from your chest, but for now you could settle in the silence next to your best friend.

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[bigassbowlingballhead]

You can wish me to die but he's still a total failure, an embarrassing person.

I hate that he made that film with Nick, I hate that he's tied to him for that damned film, I hate that Nick has to fake a relationship that doesn't exist so as not to be disturbed by those idiots.

I hate that his only personality trait is pretending not to be white and pretending to be oppressed when he's just completely incompetent.

Waiting for the day when you move on and no longer find him remotely interesting like so many people on Twitter are doing. 32 years old and being celebrated for nothing because he still don't have a decent job or career. He's useless. A waste of air. Accept it.

you know i feel bad for you. You're so obsessed with nick, but instead of actually enjoying him being everywhere right now you're spending your time typing up this dabble and spewing hatred everywhere because *checks notes* you hate a brown man that did a movie with him.

I've ignored, i've blocked, i've reported, i've deleted. so many asks from you at this point, and this is just pathetic. You have nothing going in your sad miserable life. you're a waste of human space. I bet you have no friend because they're exhausted by your overwhelming negativity.

So here's the attention you wanted. I hope you life an isolated, miserable life and die alone. That's all you deserve.

get a fucking therapist. you need it.

[sunsetno4]

Since it's on my mind, a few silly headcanons about whatever the fuck happened between Ortega and Ven (the early days). This is just silly nonsense since I'm in the mood to ramble aimlessly for a bit~~~

I always liked the parallel between Ortega and Sidestep's first kiss being almost dying during the Psychopathor fight, and the first time Ortega asking them out after they almost died during the Catastrofiend fight. Like I'm sure there were probably other close encounters inbetween, but that bone-chilling 'oh no' fear of failure and loss?

Them dying just feels fitting for a catalyst. Death, it spirals around them~~

My personal headcanon tho is like. Vendetta sincerely enjoys flirting with people. Ne finds the banter fun and funny, but it's just that to nem: banter. Ne never realizes that there might be actual ~feelings~ involved between nem and Ortega until that kiss. Because the idea was so laughable to nem. Who would want to kiss someone so abrasive and nameless? Who would want to kiss a Re-Gene?

Ne is also demi, so nir actual feelings were kinda not super active. Ne was like '@_@!!!' over the kiss. Blue screened, big time, in that 'what is this?????' way.

And I'm sure Ortega was equally '@__@!!!!' over her own bi panic after that kiss. So, like they never addressed it. For a year. As everyone around them was just judging the fuck out of them.

The flirting slowly picks back up, because it them and they're idiots and getting back to the old status quo is better than the awkward not-addressing. They get closer, Vendetta still refuses to show nir face fully. But there's pieces and half-faces and they're lovely~ To Ortega~ Who Very Much Like 'FRIENDS. THAT'S ALL. GO US. :)!' As she's dating everyone to distract herself.

….and sometimes kissing Ven too. As Friends. Friends Can Kiss, Why Not? It's fun, and they were drunk. Totally cool.

And then, Catastrofiend fight happens. And it's Ortega who almost dies. On Vendetta's watch. Who is Just Filled with Overwhelming 'Do Not Touch Her' levels of possession when the Catfiend shish kebabs Ortega. Because like, Ortega is Theirs. But, also …gross. Ven honestly hates that feeling, on many levels. And anyways! There's no time to address that while Ortega's guts are, you know, everywhere. Blood too. It's better to Not Think about feelings at all, just save your friend! Go, go, go~

Buuuuuuuut, that feeling is still there. Circling. Around. Friends can kiss, but— And Vendetta refuses to let the thought go any further. Pointless, worthless, useless. Not gonna think about maybes, not gonna happen!

Buuuuuuuut, also, maybe? Ne could trust Ortega? With something else?

Like nir face, full face, unmasked? She is injured so Vendetta can definitely outrun her in the worst case scenario? Like, would the Farm put out secret danger want-ads? For nem? Not like 'there's this escaped Re-Gene, please send her back, xoxo, the Farm', but there's plenty of ways to spin a dangerous person (ha!). It feels like it would be in the realm of possibility at least, and the Rangers would probably know if that were the case, right?

There's always ways to rationalize fears. That's why it's been almost two years and Vendetta is still hiding. Half-lives are better than no lives.

But maybe saving someone from death is worth a quarter of a life? Maybe?

Because I just like the idea of Vendetta showing up to recovering Ortega's apartment with shitty food, Ortega can't cook with her guts all blah and Ven can't cook at all and Panzavecchia's has the best fries, soooooo. That's a kind thing to do, for a friend, yeah? Bring them food when they're down?

And ne nonchalantly takes off their mask while grabbing plates from the kitchen and just lets Ortega finally see nir face. Fully. Over a plate of microwaved fries. And it's just…

Ortega: :)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Vendetta: If you make a big deal out of this, I'm leaving. :l!!!!!!!!!!!!

While Ortega is trying to be cool and not super gleeful, while also running through a catalogue of people because Vendetta looks like someone, who was it again, it's downright uncanny. And Vendetta is fighting every paranoid 'she knows, she's gonna call the farm, LEAVE. NOW.' @________@!!!' urge inside of nemself.

Ne manages, barely. Almost loses all of nir nerves and just flat-out flees Los Diablos outright when ne finally leaves and Ortega doesn't try to plant a sloppy obnoxious kiss on nir forehead like she normally does.

Ortega is too distracted by the dueling thoughts of 'pretend to be cool' and 'why the fuck do you look like Hollow Ground?!' and misses the chance. She'll remember like an hour later and kick her over it. And then ask Vendetta out for the first time like a month later, because really. She really, really likes that stupid little shit. And ne is very cute too, but she's known this since like Day 56, long before their first kiss.

And Ven still says no to anything close to anything for like another solid year. Sorry, Ortega. u__u;

[wild-karrde]

In Command - Part 2

Master List | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N: As always, thank you to the outstanding @teletraan-meets-jarvis for beta-reading this chapter for me!

Chapter Rating: T

Warnings: mentions of grief, mourning, death, canon-typical violence (sorry... the Order 66 flashback had to happen at some point)

Word Count: 4.7k words

Rex adjusted his stance again, his boots crunching the dust as he shifted his weight from his left foot to his right, trying to blend in with the shadows cast by the late afternoon sun. To a casual passerby, he seemed like any other nondescript person at the market, perhaps a father waiting to meet his family at a predetermined spot, maybe a cook in one of the local cantinas scouring for ingredients, maybe even a pickpocket scouting for a mark. Few gave him enough of a glance to ascertain anything memorable about him, and if he was honest, that’s what Rex preferred. The only person that had given him a second look today was a small Rodian girl as her mother had dragged her past. Rex knew the girl was too young to remember a war had been happening a year ago, and it was even less likely that she knew what a clone was since the war had largely left Lothal untouched. Nonetheless, she stared at him for a moment before waving shyly. Rex gave her a warm smile, tipping his hat to her as her mother dragged her onward, already focused on some stall at the other end of the row. Rex breathed a small sigh of relief as the little girl finally turned back forward to follow her mother, not paying him any additional mind. 

The former clone captain’s eyes scanned the market, looking for any opportunity he had to stand closer to the communications center that had been erected in the middle of the square. In the past, he had been able to confirm some of Senna’s findings by listening in to loose-lipped stormtroopers or commanders that were standing within its proximity. Today, however, luck hadn’t been on his side. It seemed as though all of the Imperials were slightly more on edge, more paranoid, and while he suspected it was due to the Empire Day posters plastered all over the city, he still didn’t like it. Them being nervous made Rex nervous. He rolled his head on his neck, trying to release some of the tension he felt. 

He didn’t want today to be a total failure, but so far, it felt as though he’d been utterly useless. He’d wandered to all of his usual haunts only to find that most of the officers he tailed or troopers he bought drinks for on their off days were busy, something else he attributed to the upcoming holiday to mark the anniversary of the Empire’s establishment. There was apparently going to be a large celebration to commemorate the day, and with all of the top brass arriving, the stormtroopers and officers alike were on their best behavior, eager to impress their superiors as they jostled for promotions. There was a feeling of anticipation and excitement in the air, but the last thing Rex felt like doing was celebrating. For him, it was to be the one year anniversary of him burying his brothers and going into hiding, one year since the entire galaxy came crashing down around his ears in the form of a destroyed Venator. The memories had been haunting him even before the posters went up. They were practically branded into his mind.

There wasn’t a day that passed where Rex didn’t think about what it had felt like when the inhibitor chip had activated, the loss of control as the order came through, triggering the chip that had been implanted in his brain when he was an infant. It was a ticking time bomb he never fully understood until that moment, but by then, it was too late. He’d never forget the fear he’d felt at the overwhelming urge he could not command. 

Good soldiers follow orders. Kill the traitors. 

For a moment, he’d thought maybe he could run, lock himself in an escape pod and jettison it before he hurt anyone, but as he looked up into the eyes of his brothers around him, into the familiar visors that now seemed cold and unfeeling, he knew that would not be enough. And then the door behind him had opened. 

In that moment, he’d prayed to whatever deity might be listening that it wouldn’t be Ahsoka standing behind him. Not the young Togruta that had grown up next to him. Not the Jedi he’d been so proud to serve alongside. Not the youngling he’d come to view as a sister. 

But it was. His heart sank even as the overwhelming rage pushed against the inside of his skull.

“Rex, it’s Anakin. I fear something terrible has happened.” There was confusion in her voice, alarm at the lack of understanding. He wanted to go to her, to reassure her that everything was alright and that they’d figure it out like they always did, but the voice in his head screamed louder, bashing against the inside of his mind like a caged predator.

KILL HER. KILL THE TRAITOR. FOR THE REPUBLIC.

His hands had trembled as he slowly turned to stare the young Togruta in the eye. His helmet fell from his hand, clattering loudly against the Venator’s deck. His body was not his own, but his mind was still fighting, and it was agony unlike anything he’d ever experienced, but still he fought for control. As his brothers turned and raised their blasters, his mind raced as to how he could save her.

“No, I’ll do it,” he snapped. He felt his hands drawing his blasters and he watched as they aimed at Ahsoka, her confusion turning to horror. He was trapped in his body, nearly helpless to stop what was happening, unable to wake from the nightmare. 

“Rex?”

With tears streaming from his eyes, he made his last stand against the chip.

KILL HER. DO IT. KILL THE TRAITOR. FOR THE REPUBLIC. GOOD SOLDIERS FOLLOW ORDERS. KILL HER.

The words swelled to a scream in his mind, and it felt like he was drowning in quicksand, his flailing only dragging him deeper, further from his own intentions. His fear bled into a fury he could not understand, and his voice trembled as he spoke. 

“Find him. Find Fives. FIND HIM!” he had shouted before being pulled under. His fingers squeezed the triggers, and he had internally cried out in terror for Ahsoka.

Please let me have prepared her enough to survive this. Please let her kill me and escape. Please don’t let me be the one to take her life. 

He remembered feeling the sickeningly sweet relief of relinquishing control and the crack of his head hitting the holo table as Ahsoka tackled him backwards. The rage overtook him as he collapsed to the floor, his vision going blurry as blaster bolts erupted around him, the hum of Ahsoka’s lightsabers echoing in his ears. He shook his head, the throbbing pain in the back of his skull giving way to the chip’s control. Rex pushed himself to a standing position as his brothers gathered around Ahsoka, firing volley after volley. Their blue bolts reflected in muted flashes off of the painted helmets that they’d excitedly adorned with Ahsoka’s facial markings to celebrate her return. 

And now they were doing everything they could to kill her. 

Good soldiers follow orders. 

She had escaped, but it had been too late for him to regain control. The chip and the Empire had him.

FIND HER. KILL HER. WIPE THEM OUT.

He had stalked through the ship, giving orders to search every corridor and destroy every escape pod. All the while, it felt as though he was locked in his own body, screaming in anguish at what was happening around him. As he stormed through the ship, he thought of Anakin, of Obi-Wan, of all of the Jedi he had fought alongside, and every new face he pictured increased the inexplicable animosity within him. It terrified him, but the desire to surrender to it was overwhelming, and he no longer felt like it was a fight he could win. Rex felt himself slipping further and further away with every passing moment.

WIPE THEM OUT.

He had been so blinded by the turmoil within himself that he didn’t notice the astromech until he stumbled over it, and his anger bubbled with confusion as the droid sealed him in the hallway. “What are you crosswired?” he had shouted, and then she had appeared. 

Ahsoka’s expression on the holo was calmer than it had any right being, her words gentle and offering a forgiveness he couldn't comprehend. “This isn’t your fault.” The glowing image flickered as she offered him absolution, but the mere sight of her had triggered a hatred within him that he had never experienced. 

“Where is she?” he demanded, leveling his blaster at the droid, venom dripping from his every word.

“I’m right here.” He turned to see her, standing behind him, unarmed, and with a shock from the droid, his entire world went dark.

 —

“GG, THE DOOR!”

His eyes were closed, leaving him in darkness, and the sound of Ahsoka’s voice was muted, as if he were underwater listening to her shout above the surface. Rex felt as if he was dreaming, floating halfway between unconsciousness and a world he wasn’t quite ready to face again. Nevertheless, he willed his eyes to open and was surrounded by a soft blue light. Suddenly, everything came into focus and it was as if the room had a hole punched in it, sucking all of the air out. Rex’s mind cleared, and he rapidly blinked his eyes, taking in the scene before him, remembering where he was.

Ahsoka. The order. Danger. She’s in danger!

Instinctively grabbing for his blasters, he rocketed to a sitting position on the med pod table, gasping for air. He was himself again. Somehow, he had control.

Protect her. 

Ahsoka was leaning against the end of the med table deflecting blast after blast from the clone troopers attempting to breach the door. One of her lightsabers flew from her hand from a direct hit, but still she swung with her remaining weapon. 

Protect her. At any cost. 

Rex swallowed the lump in his throat and fired multiple blasts at the orange helmeted troopers, his brothers, knocking them away from the door long enough for it to slam shut.

Ahsoka paused for a second, her shoulders heaving as she attempted to catch her breath. She turned slowly, evaluating him, trying to discern if he was himself. 

“Rex, are you ok?” she had asked softly.

In that moment, Rex did something he’d never done before. He lied to Ahsoka.

“Yeah kid. Yeah, I’m ok.”

He had never been ok, not in that moment, and not any day since. The intrusion into his mind was something Rex would never forget. The awareness, the betrayal, the hatred, the anger, they all haunted him anytime he allowed his mind to wander, tendrils slipping from the shadows to remind him what he’d almost done. He had heard the Jedi speak of what it took to fall to the Dark Side, and after Order 66, he had always assumed that was as close as he would get to experiencing that.

He shuddered recalling how they had buried each of his brothers. He had managed to hold it together until they found Jesse’s body. Jesse had been one of the first men Rex had recruited for the 501st Clone Battalion. He was stubborn, impulsive, and a bit of a hothead, but above all, fiercely loyal to his brothers and quick on his feet both mentally and physically. It had taken him a while to make ARC, but that hadn’t seemed to bother him, and it didn’t make Rex any less proud when it finally happened. Jesse always preferred to do things at his own pace. The trooper’s trademark smirk was in place when Rex had arrived at the barracks to give him his promotion and new kit. 

“Didn’t think I’d get my act together to make ARC, did you, Rex?” he joked.

In a rare moment of indecorum, Rex had playfully shoved him. “There was never any doubt on my end, Jesse. Now go make sure this gear fits. Would hate for you to start off your ARC career tripping over your kama.”

Jesse winked at him cheekily. “Yes sir.” 

When they found him at the Venator crash that day, Ahsoka had carefully removed his helmet, and in that moment, Rex was struck by how peaceful his brother looked, even in death. It was as if he were napping like he had on so many of their flights down to a planet’s surface, and it was as if all it would take was a shake of his shoulder to wake him. Somehow, this was worse, and Rex swallowed the scream that was threatening to rip from his chest, balling his hands into fists as he tried to steady himself. He was grateful that Ahsoka had quickly covered his brother’s face, although if it was more for her benefit or his, he couldn’t be sure. 

Rex wasn’t religious, but he often prayed or hoped that in his final moments, maybe Jesse had not felt pain. If he had been aware of what was happening, that he was turning against his friends and was unable to stop it, perhaps death had come as a relief to him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hurt the people he cared about. At least that was the thought Rex clung to.

It’s how I felt. I would have welcomed death to keep myself from hurting her. Or Anakin. Any of them. 

The former captain was ripped from his thoughts as his shoulder was bumped by plastoid. “Watch it,” a modulated voice snapped at him from beneath a stormtrooper helmet. Rex was relieved he didn’t recognize the voice. He knew the remaining clones had been largely decommissioned from the Imperial army, but some still chose to serve. He had yet to run into any of them, but he wasn’t sure how he’d react if he did. 

Muttering some form of apology, Rex moved away from the door he’d been standing near. He rubbed his eyes in frustration. 

Could really have used at least half a cup of palatable caf this morning. I’ve got to start waking up before her.

The sun was beginning to sink towards the horizon, signaling it was almost time for him to head back to the dwelling. Rex started making his way through the market, searching the stalls for sacks of sugar and pasta that he could bring home to Senna. 

Hopefully her day will have been at least a little more of a success. Mine seems to be a bust.

As he was scooping a handful of credits out of his pouch to pay the merchant for the massive bag of noodles that he was certain Senna would go through in less than a week, a large hologram sprang up near the communications tower, illuminating the small square. Rex finished paying and slowly meandered towards the crowd that was gathering in order to hear whatever announcement was coming.

The enlarged figure of an imperial officer glowed against the night sky. “Citizens of Lothal! It is with great pleasure that we announce the event to celebrate the first ever Empire Day to commemorate the anniversary of the end of the war and the establishment of our Galactic Empire!”

Rex felt the anger rise in his chest and swallowed it with effort as the crowd around him cheered. 

They don’t know. How could they? They only know what they’ve been told. That it was a glorious victory. That the Jedi were traitors. That this was the best possible outcome.

He was careful to continue staring at the hologram while lightly clapping so as not to betray his internal seething. 

The hologram continued speaking. “Events to celebrate will commence at the end of this week with a formal gathering at the town hall. All citizens are invited to attend to meet and honor your Imperial government officials and the brave soldiers that protect and serve you every day. As always, please bring your chain codes so that attendance may be tracked for future events! We look forward to seeing you at the celebration. Long live the Empire!”

Rex counted to ten before turning and slowly pushing his way back through the crowd. He didn’t want to appear too eager to get out of there even though he thought he might punch the first person to so much as brush him. 

You’re wound too tightly right now. You’ve got to get out of here. Don’t make a scene. Pull it together. 

As he escaped the crowd, he felt his pulse drumming in his ears. He attempted to channel some of the breathing techniques he’d seen Anakin and Ahsoka use during their meditations. He had never been able to bring himself to fully meditate, but he had been able to at least calm his nerves when he was anxious by borrowing some of what he’d witnessed over the years. His mind drifted to the commlink on his nightstand, but he shook his head violently, internally chastising himself. 

Stop. She won’t have called. You’ve got to be more patient or you’re going to drive yourself insane checking that thing every five minutes. 

He reached the outer wall of the dwelling compound just as the blood pounding in his ears began to subside. He released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, rolling his head on his neck and letting his shoulders relax. Looking up at the window in the second story, he saw the curtains had been pulled to hide the glow of the holo computers, but a thin sliver of light was still visible. He wondered if Senna would still be perched on her chair or if perhaps she’d finally stumbled into her bed.

She needs some sleep. Can’t keep burning the midnight oil. It’ll catch up with her eventually.

The concerned thought gave him pause, but only for a moment before he mentally shrugged it off. 

She’s my partner in all this. I need her at her best. That’s all. 

Setting the food items in the kitchen, he removed the hat and cloak, hanging them by the door. He paused for a moment, straining his ears, but could hear no movement. Quietly, he climbed the stairs, stopping first to poke his head in her bedroom. Her bed was unmade and empty. He sighed and moved down the hall to her “cave”.

Senna was slumped forward in her chair, arms crossed under her face in a makeshift pillow. Another (or perhaps the same) cup of caf had gone cold on her desk, and an empty bowl sat just within reach with some remnants of whatever she’d eaten stuck to the porcelain. Her back rose and fell slowly in the soft glow of the holocomputer’s screens, and he almost felt bad waking her. When they first started working together, he had quickly noted she rarely slept and when she did, she experienced nightmares that woke her screaming in terror. He had strained to listen many nights, wrestling with what he should do, whether to go to her or just leave her to work through her fears alone. Most nights when she woke from whatever haunted her, he could hear her murmur some repetitive phrase, and eventually, she would either presumably fall back to sleep or he would hear her quietly pad to her office. He had never mentioned anything to her, assuming that if she wanted to talk about it, she would.

He stood at the door for a moment pondering what the best approach would be, and her words from that morning came to mind. Rex smirked. 

Make some noise or something? Can do.

Carefully, he reached his boot towards what appeared to be a particularly precariously stacked pile of junk and toed it over. The hard disks, cabling, and whatever else she had hoarded into that stack toppled to the floor with a respectably loud crash.

Senna’s head shot up off the desk, and she stood up so fast her foot caught on a thick cable on the floor, sending her tumbling to the ground. Rex had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself from grinning as she scrambled to her feet, wiping drool off her chin. Somehow the grease smear from this morning had multiplied into several streaks across her cheeks and arms, and he could definitely smell the sharp, burnt, tangy scent of some poor electronic that she had undoubtedly shorted while he was gone. She straightened, shooting daggers at him with her eyes.

“Hi,” she muttered.

He shrugged. “You said to make more noise.”

If looks could kill, Rex would have combusted on the spot. “I know what I said.”

He continued to ignore her glare, glancing around the room. “I see your day was productive.”

“Actually, it was.” She reached for her datapad, scrolling through files until she came to what she wanted. Turning the pad to face him, she extended an arm for him to take it.

Rex gingerly took a few steps into the room, feeling some contraption pressing into his ankle as he tried to find holes in the mess big enough to allow his boots to fit into them without crushing anything. Taking the datapad from her, he squinted at the screen, which seemed incredibly bright in the dark room. She had brought up a list of names, some of which he recognized from her reports. He looked up at her, and her eyes were sparkling with excitement, hoping he would put the pieces together on his own. Rex didn’t have the patience for guessing games, so he simply asked for an explanation. 

“What is this a list of?”

She deflated slightly, but pushed on with an explanation anyway. “That is a list of all of the Imperial cronies that will be attending the Empire Day celebration that was just announced. They’re planning on boozing and schmoozing with guests. Something about public outreach and getting to know the people.”

He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was slightly. She always seemed to be one step ahead of him in terms of gathering information, and if he wasn’t so impressed, he’d be annoyed. At the moment, however, he was more annoyed with himself for underestimating her. 

Of course she saw the announcement. She’s constantly glued to the newsfeeds. 

“Good work,” he said awkwardly. He wasn’t sure why it felt so strange to acknowledge her accomplishments. As much as the way she did things bothered him, he couldn’t claim that she hadn’t produced results. Maybe he needed to not be so uptight, as she had put it. Maybe he just wanted her to think he was the one that had everything figured out, that he was competent and in command. Maybe he wanted to believe that he was after a year of him questioning everything about himself. 

And maybe he needed to let her empty file go. Her results had certainly spoken for themselves.

The compliment seemed to surprise her as much as it did him. He ignored her raised eyebrow, looking back down at the datapad and scrolling through the list some more, carefully reading each name and committing it to memory. The silence dragged on until she interjected firmly, “We should go.”

His head snapped up as he stared at her, his usual annoyance slipping back into place. “Absolutely not.”

“Rex – “

“That’s not my name right now.”

“Fine, LON. We need to go to this. They’re scanning chain codes.” Her voice was raised, her excitement replaced with exasperation. She ran her hands over her hair, smoothing down some of the flyaways that were standing on end, giving her the appearance of someone that had stuck their finger in a live power coupler. Exhaling sharply, she rubbed her hands over her face before stepping towards him, trying to calmly debate him. It was clearly a struggle to maintain her composure, but he did admire her effort. She wet her lips. “Do you honestly think they’re scanning those chain codes for future event planning? They’re not gauging attendance, they’re monitoring compliance. We have to go, particularly if we don’t want to stick out. I’m sure people that aren’t in attendance go on some list somewhere. Marked as ‘enemies of the Empire that hate parties’ or something.” She paused, meeting his eyes. “This isn’t me just coming up with any reason to get out of the house. I genuinely think this is the right play.” 

Rex watched her for a moment. She was hopeful, but he could also see she desperately wanted him to side with her. Despite his misgivings about her, he knew she was right, but it was still incredibly dangerous. He rubbed the back of his neck as he ticked through the pros and cons. While their fake identities held up to a good level of inspection, anything over and above the standard level of scrutiny would be risky. He hadn’t met any of the people on the list, but he knew him going was a gamble all the same, even if he looked different from most of the other clones that he had served with. His shock of blonde hair had made him distinct, but even with his individuality, he had never felt apart from his brothers. His brows knitted together as he thought, his mouth pulled into a thin, tight line.

When Rex looked up at Senna, he was surprised to see she wasn’t bouncing with excitement at the thought of going out. He saw concern in her face as well, but also a determination that he found admirable. 

She’s got me on this one. Doesn’t make me less nervous, but I don’t believe she’s overselling this. It’s important. 

He let out another sigh, tipping his head back and staring at the ceiling in surrender.

“Yes. You’re right. We do have to go.”

He felt another flutter of annoyance as she did a poor job of concealing her triumph. While she wasn’t bouncing on her toes or whooping loudly, she didn’t bother to stifle her smirk. “Alright then, it’s settled. I’ll have to drum up something nice to wear,” she joked. 

“And take a shower,” he replied.

“What, do I stink?”

“Have you seen your face? Looks like you slept in a tooka pen.”

“Well that’s just rude, Lon.” She put her hands on her hips, but he could tell she was enjoying the banter. If he was honest, he was too. 

“Yeah, well at least I’m not covered in grease,” he countered.

“Not yet you’re not,” she teased, and before he could respond, she stepped forward and wiped her hand across his face. Rex spluttered at the unexpected contact. He could smell the oil and engine grease on her palm and felt the grit on her hand gently scratch his cheek. 

Maybe that means she actually got the speeder working today. 

He shot her an unamused look as she pulled her hand away, wiping it on her trousers.

“There, we match now,” she giggled, patting him on the shoulder as she stepped past him into the hallway. “Night! Don’t forget to wash that off before you go to bed! Would hate to see that pristine pillow look anything less than military-grade.”

“G’night,” he muttered. For a moment, he was rooted to the spot, replaying the moment in his mind. It was an unusually jovial exchange between the two of them, but one that was perhaps long overdue. 

A little levity never hurt anyone. It would certainly be easier to work together if we actually got along. Maybe doing this mission together will help us figure each other out. 

Or she’ll get us both killed. 

Sighing, he cast one last look around her “cave”, wrinkling his nose at the mess before making his way down the stairs to his bedroom, wiping the grime from his face onto his shirt sleeve.

Tag List: @seriowan @partoftheeternalsoul @rosmariner @misogirl828 @ellichonkasaurusrex @zoeykallus @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond @gjrain20-starwars @staycalmandhugaclone @redheadgirl @fordo-kixed-rex @ariadnes-red-thread @wizardofrozz @extrahotpixels @justanothersadperson93 @leftealeaf @obihiddlenox @meekaielmyerhs99 @kaminocasey @rain-on-kamino @ladykatakuri @sleepingsun501 @ladykagewaki

[honeybunniii333]

I'll do Edwards first cause I have the most thought out ones for him.

Edward headcanons:

• His mom is a drug addict, he cut her off when he was 12.

• The king of Dissociating when his problems become too much! 🤴🏾

• adhd

• has a stuttering problem. It was very bad when he was little but after speech therapy it went away and only comes out when he's very excited or nervous.

• gets along with geno very well dispite their bickering. It's only playful.

• Diabetic, and bad at taking care of himself! ^^

• Since His stepmother works most of the day and his dad is never home he's usually the one who takes care of Geno. (Homework help, snacks, taking him places, comfort ect.)

• internally monologs a lot.

• Actually very self concious but pretends to be confident to not seem weak.

• Pretty accepting actually, he's not the judgemental type to others. ( only to himself lol. )

• Terrifed when people call him gay cause his dad is very homophobic and my mans wants to continue living.

• very good at baking, him and his mom used to bake a lot and it's a comforting activity for him.

• loves sweets.

• His mom was African, but she grew up in France for most of her life, eventually coming to the U.S and meeting his father.

• He knows a lot of French because it makes him feel close to her. Issac was a bit impressed when be finds out.

• Actually very smart. I imagine he gets mostly A's.

• knows a bit of Spanish from his dad but he resents the guy so he was never interested in learning it much.

• His dad isn't kind to him cause he looks like his mom and it brings back bad memories.

• not good at accepting change or death.

• Actually very uncomfortable with the topic of sex and or sexual things. ( I've noticed anytime anyone flirts like that to him he always acts overwhelmed and uncomfortable)

• On the Ace spectrum.

• kinda iffy about touch. He doesn't break down or anything but he doesn't really like touch from people he isn't close with ( Barry, Dez, Geno ect. )

• literally can't handle failure.

• can't see without glasses but wears Contacts cause he got bullied a lot for it.

• is usually the one who keeps his friends in line and tells people off for taking bullying too far.

•once you get him to like you, he'd die for you. Very loyal.

• Def the hero type, and when he can't fulfill said role he feels useless.

• Plays guitar very well.

• was actually bullied pretty bad in gradeschool and changed himself a lot to fit in more. Basically a totally different person from when he was little.

• suprisingly good with kids because of Geno.

• really likes Video games. He and Geno bond over this.

• Gay panic if it were a person.

• he is the least wreckless out of his little jock group and that is concerning.

• His major anger issues are a direct result of his shitty homelife. His dad has them and always responded with violence so it imprinted on him.

• he doesn't hate his stepmother but he resents her a little because his father used her as a replacement for his mom.

• His powers are a lot more detailed then they seem but he just hasn't tapped their full potential yet.

• can't remember most of his childhood because of repression and also has bad memory because of this unhealthy coping mechanism.

• Hates sitting still and gets ancy when he has to stay in bed or sit for too long. It makes him depressed to not be able to run around and do things.

• Mirrors bother him for some reason. He doesn't really know why. He just doesn't like looking in them for very long.

• Dez is more like a little sister then a cousin. The two pretty much grew up together and sometimes he forgets their cousins and not siblings.

• Definitely a dog person.

• Was friends with Felix in middleschool but drama happened and now he hates his guts.

• Actually really likes being around Issac but won't admit it cause he's "a nerd"

( they're definitely self indulgent and maybe a little but of a stretch but I like them lol. )

[ezralva]

Anyone who ever had similar situation with Adachi can immediately understand that this is fundamentally an act of self-preservation. The last defense he can control atm to prevent himself from drowning in guilt and self-hatred. Because for those with low self-esteem, it's much more easier to admit our own mistakes, weaknesses, and failures to ourselves when it had nothing to do or impacted anyone else. Because we're used to being disappointed or not having any expectations to ourselves in the first place. But the moment we realize that our 'incapabilities' will let down or hurt others, particularly those we care about, the guilt and self-blame that come after are enough to be paralyzing us.

In this case, Adachi wholly believes that everything good Kurosawa saw in him so far is due to the magic, despite back in ep 1, the scarf scene, he literally heard how Kurosawa had paid special attention to him from afar. And it's still reasonable for him to think so because...

Despite having read Kurosawa's thoughts so far, unlike us audiences, one thing Adachi wasn't privy is the fact that Kurosawa had been pining for him for 7 years and that what triggered Kurosawa to deeply fall for him in the first place was his genuineness and Adachi just simply being himself without any motives or pressures to be worthy of standing beside Kurosawa.

Based on what we saw onscreen, it's highly likely that they haven't reached that deep conversation where they talked comfortably about what made them fall for each other and for how long, their weaknesses and fears, their past wounds and backgrounds..

As for the competition, it's another impactful trigger..In ep 9, Adachi decided to join after Kurosawa said he was cool, it helped boost his self-esteem and so he decided to challenge himself, in public this time, something he might have never done before. Adachi was probably expecting that if he got good result in this, it'd totally elevate his own self-image of being Kurosawa's boyfriend, that he isn't as hopeless as he thought before. And then he saw how Kurosawa became very invested and looked so happy with him proceeding in the competition that he didn't want to let him down by losing it. Unfortunately, it just spiraled downward after that...

On top of being disgusted by himself for 'cheating' (eventho it's not that much of cheating actually, he's just too pure!), he also had to accidentally heard this...And this is purely how I see it, Adachi actually wanted to impress Kurosawa with this competition, for once, with his own skill without relying on magic, and it motivated him to work hard on it even as far as cheating....only to hear that once again, that isn't exactly what matters for Kurosawa. Only Adachi's happiness that matters and I dare say that in this situation, his own happiness is the last thing Adachi had in his mind tbh. But.. It was too late for Adachi, because he already felt so bad for cheating and it made him think more badly about himself now due to that he couldn't even fake a smile or put up happy facade in front of Kurosawa and he just heard that's what Kurosawa actually wanted with this whole ordeal.

So he became more disappointed with himself that he couldn't even do one thing right for Kurosawa's interest, hence why now he regretted it. He thought it would've been better if he quitted earlier so he didn't have to cheat his way thru, at least he wouldn't have felt so guilty and useless like this at the end of it and can be a bit happier...

And it's another consecutive blow he had to his dignity on the same day, which lead us to this...

And this...

All of these which only validate his reasonings more, that he keeps on being at the receiving end of Kurosawa's kindness and hasn't been able to give back anything yet. He found out the 'one' thing Kurosawa wants from him thru his magic, that is finally exclusively Kurosawa's (and not just him trying to make Adachi happy) and that very 'one' thing would make him lose the said magic and after that, he believes he wouldn't have any other means to really know what Kurosawa actually wants by being in relationship with him, because Kurosawa will only do things that prioritize Adachi. So he became afraid and said he didn't know what to do.

Sadly, despite Kurosawa only has Adachi's interest at heart, his every action of always only focusing on how to make Adachi happy doesn't make it any easier for Adachi to figure out what Kurosawa expects from him as a partner, how to treat Kurosawa in return, and simply how to conduct himself in front of Kurosawa.

Despite always feeling inferior compared to Kurosawa, this is the first time he said that out loud. He believes he will just keep letting Kurosawa down in the future with his inadequacies and then the guilt and self-deprecation will just eat him alive. And going by his character, Adachi probably believes that he'd breakdown completely if Kurosawa ever had a change of heart once they were more invested than this. So he opted to retreat back to his shell instead. Again due to the fact he possibly hasn't really got a clue of how deep Kurosawa's love for him is.

As for Kurosawa, he understood that whatever he said at this point to convince him otherwise, Adachi wouldn't believe him and will just overwhelm him even further. Not until Adachi can see his values and the importance of his happiness for himself....So he gave him the choice regardless of his own promise in ep 7 that he'd never let Adachi go anymore. Because he can clearly see Adachi wouldn't be able to say it to him first.

Alas, this conversation might have turned out differently if Adachi wasn't at his lowest and was in happier mood....

[morgana-ren]

so, idea: good old fashioned villains vs heroes. heroes massacred, shiggy kills a pro hero and is about to kill their sidekick, then the kids they were protected. sidekick says she'll do anything to save them; shiggy does the whole leering 'anything?' thing, expecting her to punch him, or use her quirk -- but she knows she's outmatched, and so she kisses him instead. slightly older reader (like 28), manchild confused shiggy, then we go from there

He’s a total school boy but he’ll never admit it

Liquid red bleeds into white, seeping into the fabric of your slashed hero uniform and settling into the pores of the fabric. Your knees tremble and your body quakes, gripping the wound across your stomach as blood slips through the slats of your fingers. Gravel embeds into your knees, nerves singing with pain. The tears slipping down your cheeks mingle with ash and soot, the fleeting remains of the brave hero who gave his life to keep you from the same fate.

A group of terrified students cowers behind you, trembling from the nightmare to the front.

These aren't just students- they're children. These are children. They cling to each other, cold and hurt and terrified. The brave ones do their best to tend to the few wounded, staring down at the threat that encroaches. Others shrink. Some cry and pray.

All are shaking.

Don't let them see you like this!

You're grateful for the rain; the tears that slip down across your face through your defiant features are hidden. The pain is blinding but you refuse to fall. They need you. You can't afford to fall now. This isn't about you.

He inches closer, the monster clad in black, careless footsteps sloshing through the puddles on the ground as his red shoes stop just short of you. Hands in his pockets, head cocked as he looks down on you with an expression that reeks of condescension. Rain slips through his silver hair, a hideous cackle resounding along side the thunder. 

“This is the best the heroes have got, huh? Pathetic.”

The sole of his shoe collides with your chest, sending you careening onto your back. The wound in your side sears as you hit the asphalt, a scream ripping from your lungs despite your will. There’s an unforgiving sting in your cheek as it slides across the terrain, forcing a muffled sob from your throat, pain becoming overwhelming. 

He circles you for a moment, sneering with jagged teeth bared. A predator sizing up his fallen prey. Disgust is apparent in his eyes; he hates you. It only lasts a moment before he throws one leg over you, leaning down and straddling your prone form, firm hand gripped on your chin. 

“I’m going to kill you, little hero. It’s going to hurt. But before I do, I want you to know that I’m going to kill them as well. Can’t have the next generation of heroes using you as a martyr now can we?” 

Fear is palpable from behind you. Between the rumbles of thunder, you can hear the crying and pleading. None try to run- they’re surrounded- trapped by villains that circle around them like ravenous wolves. 

You can’t let him do this. You can’t let him hurt them!

“Wait! Please!-” Your mind runs at unforgiving speed, head pulsing and pounding with pain and panic. “Don’t hurt them! Take me instead.”

He scoffs, gripping you by the collar and yanking you up slightly off the ground. “I already told you I was going to kill you. Are you some kind of idiot or something?”

“You can take me back with you. I won’t fight you. You can torture me or kill me or use me as bait. I won’t put up a fight. I’ll go willingly if you please just-” A small hiccup in your chest, knowing you mean every word and the weight it carries. “-Just please let them go. They’re just kids.”

He seems unimpressed, but there’s a small flash across his eyes, one you recognize. Your submission to him in front of all these people, your students, strokes his ego. You swallow down another sob, desperately trying to contain the shivers that wrack your limbs. 

“Please, Shigaraki. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

His eyes narrow, studying your face and then further down your body, gaze lingering on less than appropriate places for far too long for you not to understand where his mind has steered him. “Whatever I want, huh? That’s a pretty stupid thing to say when you don’t know what I’ll ask for.” 

You’re fairly certain now what it is he wants, and if it saves the lives of the innocents behind you, you’ll lock away your pride and your dignity and whatever else you need to if it keeps them safe. Shigaraki Tomura is a man after all, and ultimately men are simple creatures with even more simple desires. With a shaky gesture, you lift your palm up from the ground and place it gently on his own hand that grips your collar. 

“Anything.” 

His eyes widen, and for a moment, his expression falters. He looks confused, flustered even. Given your close proximity, you can even see the blush blossoming in his cheeks and down his neck. He looks almost innocent in this second, like a school boy faced with his first crush. You imagine he almost certainly didn’t expect you to acquiesce, let alone encourage his line of thinking. 

Disbelief. He looks like he doesn’t believe you.

You slowly push up towards him and his fist tightens on your clothing. He expects an ambush. That you’ll get his guard down with your seductions and then strike when he’s lost in the fog. A good tactic, but in this scenario, it sports a one hundred percent chance of failure. Shigaraki is an excellent fighter, and an even more impressive strategist. The only winning move is the one he has never planned for. 

Before he can recoil, you smash your lips against his. 

You can feel his breath hitch, eyes widening in total incredulity. For the first time in nearly his entire life, Tomura Shigaraki is at a complete loss. The hoots and hollers from the low lives under his command mesh into the sounds of the storm that rages around you, but you shove down the humiliation and defeat. Being a hero means saving them- No matter what the cost to you.

When he finally finds the mind to kiss you back, it’s the antithesis of everything he stands for. It’s meek and gentle, almost fragile in nature. It’s painfully apparent he doesn’t know a thing about what he’s doing, but he indulges none the less. His tongue slips across your lips and you’re prepared to take the hit but he pulls away as suddenly as he accepted it. 

“Fine-” He huffs, breathless as he pulls you both callously to your feet, ignoring the agonizing wound laced across your ribs. The pain is too much and you almost fall but he catches you with a strange amount of consideration. He doesn’t quite carry you- That would look weak after all- but he takes a considerable amount of strain off of your body as he keeps you upright.

”Leave the brats. They’re useless.” He commands his small platoon away to some measure of disappointment from them. “I got what I came for anyway.” 

[free--therapy]

Depression and Cognitive Distortions

By Nancy Schimelpfening | Updated on March 31, 2020

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? Which came first, the depression symptoms or the pessimistic thoughts?

In many cases, depression actually is the result of habitual negative thoughts, called cognitive distortions.

Overview

When bad things happen, we begin chastising ourselves with thoughts such as I'm no good, I'm a total failure or Nothing ever goes my way. Our feelings follow what we are thinking, and negative thoughts like these can send us spiraling down into depression.

This concept is the guiding principle behind cognitive therapy, a type of psychotherapy developed by psychiatrist Aaron T. Beck in the 1960s. If we think something often enough, we begin to believe it's true and our feelings match what we are thinking about ourselves.

To manage depression, we must stop those automatic negative thoughts and replace them with more positive, truthful ones. By nipping these thoughts in the bud, we can sometimes halt depression before it even starts.

Examples

Cognitive therapy is directed at 10 common cognitive distortions, or faulty thought patterns, that send us into depression. See if you recognize yourself in any of these.

All-or-Nothing Thinking: John recently applied for a promotion in his firm. The job went to another employee with more experience. John wanted this job badly and now feels that he will never be promoted. He feels that he is a total failure in his career.

Overgeneralization: Linda is lonely and often spends most of her time at home. Her friends sometimes ask her to come out for dinner and meet new people. Linda feels that that is it useless to try to meet people. No one really could like her. People are all mean and superficial anyway.

Mental Filter: Mary is having a bad day. As she drives home, a kind gentleman waves her to go ahead of him as she merges into traffic. Later in her trip, another driver cuts her off. She grumbles to herself that there are nothing but rude and insensitive people in her city.

Disqualifying the Positive: Rhonda just had her portrait made. Her friend tells her how beautiful she looks. Rhonda brushes aside the compliment by saying that the photographer must have touched up the picture. She never looks that good in real life, she thinks.

Jumping to Conclusions: Chuck is waiting for his date at a restaurant. She's now 20 minutes late. Chuck laments to himself that he must have done something wrong and now she has stood him up. Meanwhile, across town, his date is stuck in traffic.

Magnification and Minimization: Scott is playing football. He bungles a play that he's been practicing for weeks. He later scores the winning touchdown. His teammates compliment him. He tells them he should have played better; the touchdown was just dumb luck.

Emotional Reasoning: Laura looks around her untidy house and feels overwhelmed by the prospect of cleaning. She feels that it's hopeless to even try to clean.

Should Statements: David is sitting in his doctor's waiting room. His doctor is running late. David sits stewing, thinking, "With how much I'm paying him, he should be on time. He ought to have more consideration." He ends up feeling bitter and resentful.

Labeling and Mislabeling: Donna just cheated on her diet. I'm a fat, lazy pig, she thinks.

Personalization: Jean's son is doing poorly in school. She feels that she must be a bad mother. She feels that it's all her fault that he isn't studying.

How to Cope

If you recognize any of these behaviors in yourself, then you're halfway there. Here's a homework assignment for you: Over the next few weeks, monitor the self-defeating ways in which you respond to situations. Practice recognizing your automatic responses.

Now, we will take each of the above cognitive distortions and discuss some powerful coping strategies that will help you dispel the blues before they even start.

All-or-Nothing Thinking

This type of thinking is characterized by absolute terms like always, never, and forever. Few situations are ever this absolute. There are generally gray areas. The technique that you should apply here is to eliminate these absolute terms from your vocabulary, except for the cases where they truly apply. Look for a more accurate description of the situation.

Here's an example of self-talk that John could have used to cope with not getting that promotion: "I wanted this job a lot, but it went to someone with more experience. This is disappointing to me, but it doesn't mean I'm not a good employee. Other opportunities will be available in the future. I'll keep working on my skills so that I'll be ready for them when they arrive. This one setback does not mean my career is over. Overall, I have excelled in my work."

Overgeneralization

When one overgeneralizes, one takes an isolated case or cases and assumes that all others are the same.1 Are people really all mean and superficial and could never like her? What about her friends who are trying to get her to go out? Obviously, she does have someone who cares about her.

The next time you catch yourself overgeneralizing, remind yourself that even though a group of people may share something in common, they are also separate and unique individuals.

No two people are exactly the same. There may be mean and superficial people in this world. There may even be people who dislike you. But, not every person will fit this description. By assuming that everyone doesn't like you, you are building a wall that will prevent you from having what you crave the most — friendship.

Mental Filter

When a person falls victim to mental filters they are mentally singling out only the bad events in their lives and overlooking the positive. Learn to look for that silver lining in every cloud. It's all about how you choose to let events affect you. Mary could have turned her whole day around if she had paid attention to that nice man who went out of his way to help her.

Disqualifying the Positive

Those of us who become depressed are masters at taking the good in a situation and turning it into a negative. Part of this comes from a tendency to have low self-esteem. We feel like we just don't deserve it. How to turn this around is simple.

The next time someone compliments you, resist the little voice inside that says you don't deserve it. Just say "thank you" and smile. The more you do this, the easier it will become.

Jumping to Conclusions

Once again, we fall victim to our own insecurities. We expect the worst and begin preparing early for the disappointment. By the time we find out that all our fears were unfounded, we've worked ourselves into a frenzy, and for what?

Next time, do this: Give the person the benefit of the doubt. You'll save yourself a lot of unnecessary worry. If your fears have some basis in reality, however, drop that person from your life like a hot potato.

Magnification and Minimization

Have you ever looked through a telescope from the wrong direction? Everything looks tinier than it really is. When you look through the correct end, everything looks larger.

People who fall into the magnification/minimization trap look at all their successes through the wrong end of the telescope and their failures through the correct end.

What can you do to stay away from this error and stop your negative thoughts? Remember the old saying, "He can't see the forest for the trees?" When one mistake bogs us down, we forget to look at the overall picture. Step back and look at the forest now and then. Overall, Scott played a good game. So what if he made a mistake?

Emotional Reasoning

Laura has based her assessment of the situation on how it makes her feel not how it really is. It may make her feel bad to think of the large task ahead of her, but is it really hopeless? In reality, cleaning her house is a doable task. She just doesn't feel up to it. She has reached the conclusion that it is useless to try based on the fact that it overwhelms her.

When a situation feels overwhelming, try this to stop your negative thoughts: Break down the task into smaller ones. Then prioritize what is most important to you. Now, do the first task on your list. Believe it or not, you will begin to feel better and ready for more. The important thing is to just do something towards your goal. No matter how small, it's a start and will break you out of feeling helpless.

Should Statements

We all think things should be a certain way, but let's face it, they aren't.

Concentrate on what you can change and if you can't change it, accept it as part of life and go on.

Your mental health is more important than "the way things should be."

Labeling and Mislabeling

What Donna has done in our example is label herself as lazy and hopeless. She most likely will reason that since she can't lose weight, she may as well eat. She has now effectively trapped herself by living up to the label she placed on herself. When we label ourselves, we set ourselves up to become whatever that label entails. This can just as easily work to our advantage.

Here's what Donna could have done to make labeling work in her favor. She could have considered the fact that up until now she has been strong. She could then forgive herself for only being human and acknowledge that she has been working hard to lose weight and has been succeeding. This is a temporary setback that she can overcome.

Overall, she is a strong person and has proven it by her successful weight loss. With this type of positive thinking, Donna will feel better and be back to work on her weight loss goals in no time.

Personalization

In our example, Jean is taking all the responsibility for how her son is doing in school. She is failing to take into consideration that her son is an individual who is ultimately responsible for himself. She can do her best to guide him, but in the end, he controls his own actions.

Next time you find yourself doing this, ask yourself, "Would I take credit if this person were doing something praiseworthy?" Chances are you'd say, "No, they accomplished that by themself." So, why blame yourself when they do something not so praiseworthy? Beating yourself up is not going to change their behavior. Only they can do that.

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, chapter 133 of SnK!

I’ve got a few things I want to talk about here.

One of the things that always strikes me about Levi as a character, indeed, one of his defining character traits, is his coolness under pressure.  His calm demeanor, no matter the circumstances.  One of the interesting things to go into is WHY Levi is like this.  

We see it particularly exemplified in this chapter, I think, and there’s a few examples.  For one, they’ve all just lost Hange as their friend and Commander, and this loss particularly impacts and affects Levi, since he was closer with Hange than any of them.  But rather than allowing his grief to consume and paralyze him, Levi immediately begins trying to contribute when Armin says he wants to go over the plan, bringing up Hange’s theory about Zeke and how killing him might stop the Rumbling, etc...  Then Eren transports them to Paths, and everyone reacts with shock and awe, except Levi, who’s expression is duly unimpressed and unsurprised.  We see this from Levi throughout the series, of course.  Situations that present themselves, new and frightening circumstances which throw everyone for a loop and send people into panic, Levi reacts to with calm collectedness, a distinct LACK of surprise or fear.  He really does stand in sharp contrast with everyone else in this situation.  Everyone there is a seasoned war veteran, at this point, they’ve all been through and seen some truly horrific things.  But they still react with a kind of frantic uncertainty here.  They then begin to plead with Eren, Armin and the rest trying to convince him through any means possible, to stop the Rumbling.  They try to bargain with him, show him empathy, make promises, etc...  They make their desperation obvious by saying whatever they think will appeal to Eren.  Levi is the only one who, I think, is fully honest here.  He tells Eren that if he stops now, he’ll let him off with JUST an ass-kicking.  Levi doesn’t try to placate Eren, or show him sympathy, or empathy, he doesn’t try to be gentle or handle Eren with kid gloves.  He tells him flat out he’s going to beat his ass for what he’s done, but he’ll show him some leniency for stopping by not killing him outright.  The thing is, I think Levi’s known from the start of this whole disaster that talking to Eren wasn’t going to work.  Everyone else was holding out hope that if they could just speak with Eren, he would stop, that they could convince him through words.  But like I talked about in my last post, Levi is someone who’s just seen and experienced too much of life’s brutality and unfairness to blind himself to bleak reality.  When the 104th goes running off after Eren appears to them, to try and reach him, Levi just sits down in the sand and has that resigned expression once more, and his expression continues to show a total lack of surprise when Eren puts the 104th back where they started, before they could ever even get close. Levi isn’t surprised, or even dismayed, I don’t think, at Eren’s refusal to talk, because I think he always knew he wouldn’t be willing to.  That he wouldn’t be interested in hearing anyone’s pleas or promises.  I think Levi always knew Eren was hellbent on this course of action, and it was more or less hopeless, trying to appeal to him.  And once again, I have to restate, I think it’s because Levi’s just experienced too much hardship in his life to cling to false hopes.  He’s world-weary and in many ways a realist, someone not given to delusion or fancy.  

I feel like Levi probably glimpsed this uncompromising, hellish bent in Eren back in Liberio, his mercenary compulsion to follow through on whatever plan he had, which is why Levi was so disgusted by him on the airship back then.  He saw a lack of mercy in Eren, and it reminded him of the brutes Levi grew up with in the Underground.  Not just a willingness, but a desire to take from others to satisfy himself.  It’s why, when they’re all transported back to the plane, while everyone else looks horrified and in shock at Eren’s refusal to talk, Levi looks as unflustered as ever, and states with a matter of fact tone that negotiations are over, before asking Armin what it is they do now.  None of this is surprising to Levi.

Levi’s look of despair throughout this final arc continues to strike me as his resignation in the ugliness of humanity and the useless, pointless suffering they inflict on one another.  He’s depressed, and disappointed, because everything happening around them is only a confirmation of all the worst things Levi saw and experienced, growing up.

All this ties into another point I want to discuss, which is Levi’s relationship with Jean, actually.  I’ve found the relationship between the two of them really interesting since way back in the Uprising arc, when Jean was the most vocal in condemning Levi for his violence, declaring with certainty that he would never kill another person.  Jean is disabused of his moralistic superiority not long after that, when he learns first hand the consequences of sticking to ones morals uncompromisingly, nearly losing his life, and forcing Armin to take a life for him.  And it’s Jean who we see, again and again from that point on in the series, grappling with and coming to terms with this difficult lesson.  We see Jean’s respect for Levi, and his understanding towards Levi, grow greatly, after this incident, and Jean himself having to grow, to change and accept that sacrifices are inevitable if one wishes to protect the things and people they care about.  That sometimes even one’s own comfort and moral convictions are necessary sacrifices to achieve those things.  

Levi tells everyone that he’ll take care of Zeke, but admits that he’ll need all of their help to get the job done.  I feel like this is Levi, once again, asking if all of them are ready and willing to get their hands dirty, just like he did before they raided the Cavern underneath the Church on the Reiss property.  He knows he can’t do this job by himself (which is just further testament to Levi’s strength of character, an ability to admit to weakness), but he wants to make sure everyone else is alright with plunging in to a situation in which they’re going to be forced to kill.  Jean is the first to answer, telling Levi and all of them that he’s not going to let the sacrifices they’ve already made, the people they’ve killed in order to get where they are, be in vain, and that he’ll do whatever it takes to stop the Rumbling.  This shows incredible character growth on Jean’s part.  He went from someone who claimed that he would, under no circumstances, take another human life, to someone who declares that he’ll do whatever it takes in order to stop the Rumbling, to achieve a greater good.  And I think this growth on Jean’s part ties directly into his relationship with and the influence of Levi.  Levi never judged Jean for being uncomfortable with killing, never criticized or scolded him for it.  He even told Jean that he couldn’t say, one way or the other whether Jean’s beliefs were right or wrong.  That Levi himself didn’t know the answer to that.  He never tried to convince Jean of anything.  He just told him the truth.  That his failure to kill had put the lives of his comrades in danger, including his own, and that it also caused Armin to have to bear the burden of killing another, one which should have been Jean’s own to bear.  All of that is absolutely true.  And it was really through this lack of judgment on Levi’s part that, I think, Jean was able to grow and expand his own views on killing, and adjust and allow for there to be circumstances in his world view which would justify taking another life.  He wasn’t forced by anyone to change his views.  He changed them based on experience and through Levi explaining to him that there is no definitive right or wrong answer to be found, and through Levi’s simply being honest with him.  He was telling Jean that it comes down to what one is willing to sacrifice in order to protect the things and people they value.  And Jean learned about himself that he’s willing and able to sacrifice more than he ever realized.

But it’s still a struggle, and something all of them, even at this point in the story, continue to battle themselves over.  We see Connie struggling in particular this chapter, looking anguished over what he had to do back at the port.  It’s only Levi who accepts that brutal reality of kill or be killed with a calm understanding, and I think this is probably because, unlike the rest of them, who all had peaceful, probably relatively easy and happy childhoods, without any exposure to violence or real cruelty, Levi, I think it can be safely assumed, probably took his first life while he was still a boy.  And doubtless, that was due to desperate circumstances.  Levi’s life has been one filled with uncertainty.  Growing up in extreme poverty, he never could have known with any certainty where his next meal would come from, or when.  Never knew with any certainty whether he could find proper shelter for the night, or a safe place to sleep.  Never knew with any certainty whether he would be assaulted, or robbed, or if someone would attempt to take his life.  Levi’s life has been one of desperation and a true, unforgiving struggle to simply survive.  And so while all of his comrades have seen and experienced the horrors of war with him, none of them can know with the same level of understanding that true kind of desperation of simply trying to live day to day, that kind of awful and overwhelming uncertainty and fear of not knowing if you’ll be alive from one day to the next.  It’s those kinds of experiences in life that really separate Levi from the rest of his comrades, and in a lot of ways, isolate him from them.  It’s why the extremity of their circumstances and the desperation of their situation in this final arc continually shocks and overwhelms them, but Levi regards it all with his usual, if deeply saddened, calm.

[suugiithings]

KATSUKI BAKUGOU X YOU

The image isn't mine credits to the owner.

For some reason, I just write angst. 😅

I hope you like it. I really like Bakugou. I am still reading the manga and I am still in the 17th volume but I am loving his character development.

We can't forget that underneath all of that image of a bad/angry boy is still a teenager and geez we all can agree that teenage days are the worst.

Anyway, I am sorry for my writing skills and probably grammar mistakes but as I said in my work of Kirishima I don't usually write in English so I am trying my best and using dictionaries and even Grammarly to make sure everything is on point but sometimes some mistakes can get through it so I am apologizing beforehand and I will keep improving my English vocabulary to make my writing more interesting.

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: It is Bakugou so swearing is obviously here.

You stopped abruptly as you heard a loud and painful hiss. Your whole body completely froze while watching the state of that blonde guy. The rain wetting all his figure, his hair was even more messy than usual, his hands were sparking a little from his frustration.

I knew it. You told yourself as shutting your e/c eyes aggressively because of the huge pain felt as seeing him in such condition. You knew that he was suffering like you were because even if he didn't tell Kirishima what he meant to him we all knew that Kirishima was someone really important to Bakugou. Thankfully you had enough empathy to realize that seeing Kirishima unconscious on a hospital bed was an overwhelming pain for him as well.

Finally, you got the strength and courage to open your dark blue umbrella and took small and slow steps towards him. Fortunately, he didn't notice your presence as he was drowning in his feelings. Feelings. Something and probably the only thing Bakugou was terrible with. Normally he only ignored them and pushed them deep down in his soul letting them there alone getting bigger and bigger every day. And then one day those neglected pieces of human nature just exploded doing a huge mess. You already had witnessed that happening once and it wasn't something pleasant to see. It made your heart shatter in a million pieces because he went in a total auto-destructive mode and you being in love with him made you feel helpless and lost in the middle of your and his pain.

At last, when you were just mere centimetres from him, your umbrella was already above his head and his hood was pushed to cover not just his head but especially his face. His whole body hardened and you took this opportunity to wrap your free hand around his body while laying your head against his wet clothed back.

" I'm sorry for this random affection but I don't know what to do with this pain. I... I...My heart and soul are in suffering now so please just let me be like this for just a couple of minutes." he didn't say anything but you realize how heavy was his breath. A deep breath came from you while you squished him more trying to let your feelings be silently handed on to your lover. You would never be able to express your feelings so you just wanted him feel them.

"I'm sorry." a heavy and sad whisper came from the blonde as his muscles started to smooth under your touch. "It was my fault." your small hand rubbed the side of his body where your hand was calmly but firmly laying. The reality was you didn't know what really happened you just found Kirishima body laying on Bakugou arms in the middle of the battlefield where a group of villains attacked. Bakugou was frozen by his panic and disbelief the whole time since you found out them until arriving in the hospital.

"Shh...It isn't anybody's fault except those fucking villains." His body hardened again and heat rises from him. Shit. You should have just stayed quiet. He tried to let go of your grip and when he did he looked directly at you. And if it was possible your heartbreak to even smaller pieces. His face was consumed by the pain, sadness and especially the well-known rage. His eyes and face were swollen and red not just because of him being crying but also because of the fight they had against those villains. Small cuts here and there in his body. You tried to reach him but he dodged your touch.

" It was my fault. I was weak and he threw himself in front of me stupidly. I was the one who couldn't protect another human being and lost the fight. It is my fault. So just shut the fuck up with your pity I don't need it for anything. Especially when you were fucking late to help Kirishima. It is also your fault. You are useless. " If you didn't know him you would definitely just turn on your heels and leave but it was Katsuki we were talking about. He was shouting those things not really because he meant but because he was using your name instead of his while in reality, it was just a way to talk his feelings out and to curse at himself and not you. " So don't touch me. Don't try to seek relief because you don't deserve it. You need to drown in those feelings."

Your umbrella fell on the road and your hells rose to let your lips touch his. It was unexpected by both of you. You didn't think this through, it was just a reflection of your inability to comfort Katsuki. However, what shock you the most was his strong arms unexpectly wrapped your waist tightly pulling you so closer to him that both bodys almost fused in to each other and then his lips started a rough and intense kiss. All feelings getting involved at this moment. You could taste the bitterness of failure, the sourness of sadness and deep down a really shy sweetness of the untold love.

You both were already gasping for air but none of you wanted to let go. Your lungs were burning, your hearts racing and your legs trembling.

However very abruptly everything stopped including the feeling of his touch on your now wet body from the rain.

" What the fuck was that for?" the blonde screamed very loud when he came into his senses. His eyes were confused and full of anger. You stood in your place unshakable, you were already prepared for this.

" Nothing, Katsuki. It was nothing." you sighed in annoyance." What the hell do you think it is? I am tired of this." You screamed back at him and he was shocked. Yes, you had already had some fights but for silly things especially because you loved to make fun of him and tease him but never for serious topics and never with this look on your face." I think this kiss made pretty clear what's going on between us. I am fucking tired of watching you suffer in silence. I hate that so much. My heart breaks every time you self-isolate yourself. Maybe I am being egotistic but I just want you to be happy, goddammit. " His gaze was burning your skin of how intense it was. For the first time, you didn't know what he was feeling. Yes, because even though he puts his mask of an angry and though guy, he was actually a pretty simple person underneath that. He was just trying his best to improve himself and raise at the top and someone who lack a lot on self love.

" I didn't ask for anything. And there is no us here. I don't love you. Love is just stupid and a waste of time." he muttered finally taking his gaze away from you. "I don't want to love you while I don't love myself."

" Shh... I don't need to be corresponded I just want you to let me help you." You wrapped your arms again around him squishing him so hard as you could. " Just enjoy my company and let me be your walking diary. Allow me to hear your rants and fears."

[pancakeke]

How do you keep your projects and other ideas organized? I keep stopping and starting and spinning my wheels and not getting much of anywhere because I keep getting overwhelmed, and I have so much I want to do! It seems like you've got a lot going on in your head, but manage to keep finishing projects and planning new ones out. Honestly? I'm kinda jealous...

I want to preface this with 2 things that are really important: I used to be horrible at finishing anything and what led to the most change for me was getting professional help for mental illness. Also, I still start a lot of projects I never finish, but these days the reasons when I don't finish a project are reasonable and not signs that I am not keeping it together.

I think "organize yourself better" feels like a reasonable ask but depending on what's causing your disorganization it can be pretty useless. If you're concerned that your organization is an issue: turn your project into a tutorial before you make it. This is only really relevant if you're making something from scratch but it helps to have all the materials, tools, and measurements listed out before you start so you aren't surprised by missing anything. It also helps you find holes in your plan as you run down everything on paper so you aren't stopping to figure things out once you're actually working. I don't know about you but for me stopping is hell. It's so hard for me to get back into the groove later so I want everything ready to go once I start working.

If you're working with existing tutorials the above is irrelevant but what you can do is keep everything you need for a project together so nothing is missing and everything is within reach. All my stuff used to be all over the place in plastic sterilite tubs in oth my closet and the storage room in our garage and it was a huge pain in the ass to find anything. It made working suck and then I'd just get frustrated and give up. For all my resin stuff I got these little stacking storage bins from Harbor Freight and then for my sewing + everything else stuff I got larger versions from amazon (expensive because it's a 12 pack).

Having nice storage also helps you to get stuff out of your face when you're not working on it. It's important to keep your workspace clean as possible because not having room to work makes actually working a pain. This is totally unreasonable to expect anyone to do, but I have 3 desks that wrap around half of my room so I have tons of space to work. Eventually I leave stuff all over the place and it drives me nuts and I have to hardcore clean and reorganize before I am comfortable enough to focus on work again though lol.

I had more to deal with than like physical organization though. A huge reason I used to give up on projects all the time was anxiety. I still kind of have anxiety but I'm better with dealing with it now. There are 2 major things that make me drop a project: the fear of messing up, and then actually messing up.

Sometimes I'll buy all the materials I need but then I can't bring myself to actually work on something because I'm so afraid that I'll mess up my materials and waste them all. Now when I have that problem I work with something inexpensive, like muslin when I'm sewing, or paper mockups for other physical items, and sometimes I make scale digital mockups with inkscape. This helps me get a feel for what I'm doing and then I don't freeze and abandon the idea.

The worst thing I had to deal with was getting over the like failure wave that would wash over me when I did mess something up. I used to have like hard stop, never turn back, abandon ship kind of reaction any time I screwed something up so I'd never complete the project after that point. But now I'm in the mindset that failure teaches me what not to do next time, and often I will complete a project despite messing it up so I can work through all the steps and see if there's anything else tricky I need to watch out for next time. That way it's a learning experience and not making me feel like I'm a failure who wasted time and effort and didn't even get anything out of it.

Sometimes though a project just doesn't vibe with you once you start working on it and it's ok to ditch it. Like I wanted to make something recently that was a super bizarre shape and would require me to hand sew both sides of two entire 30 inch zippers to lining and outer material for something I was working on. For real fuck that. I will keep the idea on my list and rework it some other time.

Oh also, make lists of everything you want to do. Have a word or google doc or a notebook and take notes a lot. Also save inspo photos to a folder on your phone or PC so you can look at them later. I save lots of ideas and photos that I like but have no intent of working with now because I may want to return to them later. Also follow artists on tumblr, twitter, instagram, twitch, youtube, wherever! You can get SO much inspiration from other artists. Also watch all their tutorial videos to learn new things even if it's not something you actively need for any projects at hand. I love watching other people work and seeing what they make and it really gets me ready to make something for myself!

I hope this isn't rambly because it's super long but if there's anything specific you want me to speak to or you want more examples of anything, let me know!!

[sabbywrites]

Let’s talk.

This is a long post that also happens to be long overdue. Also posted as a thread to my twitter (tl;dr at end). 

Hi everyone. It’s been a while. I’ve been debating for a little bit on how to write this, going back and forth between feeling scared and feeling determined to say what I want to say. I’m finally at a point where I can confidently say: let’s talk.

First, I want to say this: I’m sorry. I haven’t been very consistent these past two years, with both my writing and with keeping in touch with everyone I’ve met online. If you’re reading this and I haven’t spoken to you in a while, know this: I will be getting in touch with you soon. I haven’t forgotten the amazing people I call friends.

If you folks will have me, I’d love to catch up with everyone I haven’t talked to during my absence. I want to make one thing very, very clear— me being gone was never about me not wanting to talk to the people on here or participate in this community. The thing I regret the most about being gone is leaving people in the dark. If my absence has in any way, shape, or form hurt you, I cannot begin to apologize enough from the bottom of my heart. That was never my intention, although intentions don’t fix the hurt caused.

I want to discuss the reason for my absence, so please bear in mind that I’m not trying to excuse being gone— just explain why.

Some of you may know that I have three diagnosed mental conditions that have mostly been manageable through medication and therapy. When I first started writing online, I was halfway through undergrad and I wanted a place where I could put my writing so people might enjoy it. I found that pretty quickly on Ao3. As I worked on getting my writing degree, I would spend hours and hours working on what became ASID. I was thrilled beyond belief when ASID drew in readers who left wonderful comments.

I have a huge amount of love in my heart for everyone who has ever read any of my works, and I wouldn’t change anything about that. Ever. But as I graduated from college, I started noticing that my mental health was on a sharp decline that it hadn’t been on since high school. I tried to keep it at bay for a while, because I was sure I would bounce back.

I did not.

I began to take small breaks as I jumped into graduate school. I feel very purposeless without school in the background of my life; I’d gotten a degree that a lot of people in my life implied was useless, and with every break I took I felt more and more like an imposter. What’s a writer who doesn’t write? Had I gotten my degree for nothing? I trudged on through grad school and received my Masters in May. It still didn’t feel right. I felt like a failure.

Every time I logged on to talk to friends or check my comments, a voice in the back of my head kept popping up. I was getting older and less motivated. Life outside of undergrad hit me all at once. Nothing I wrote felt good enough to post. The amount of debt I was in already made me ill, and I went through four years of schooling just to feel like the degree I earned was for nothing.

There’s a weird misconception that artists have to be suffering to make good art. We have to be low to do our best. And I was low, lower than I had been since the absolute worst days of my life, and I still couldn’t produce anything. The pain wasn’t enough to jump-start me. What worth did I have, then? What worth does someone who has put their heart into their writing have if they can’t write anymore?

I mistakenly felt like I was an imposter among genuine people, like the friends I had made and the writers I admired were on the other side of a window, in a place I couldn’t get into. When the pandemic rolled around, things had already been teetering on the edge. I won’t sit here and pretend that I got hit any worse than anyone else during 2020— I had a roof over my head and a place to go during my state’s lockdown. But there was ample time, and yet I still wasn’t writing. I couldn’t even do that right. I had to rawdog my mental illness for a stretch, live in a town where the worst trauma of my life had happened to me, and feel like a total, complete, garbage failure every single day. Logging in was more and more of a reminder that I was dead weight.

Financially, I wasn’t doing much better. In the past year or so, I’ve had to provide for myself living on my own on an nonprofits’s pay (not much), as well as occasionally provide for my uncle. I’d thought that by my mid-twenties my life would be different; that I’d be better. In the last few months, it’s become clear that I require surgery for something that may not yet be able to be covered by my insurance; my options now are to wait for it to progress and get worse for coverage or pay out of pocket for the surgery sooner. It’s likely I will need a second one afterwards to completely correct my issues.

For a while, that just made the idea of writing again feel selfish. Why spend time interacting with the community when I should be working to make money because I wasn’t eligible for the stimulus? Why sit down and write something that I would probably just scrap anyway? There’s a lot of other more personal things that happened during my absence that I won’t delve into, including the passing of our family dog. I’m sorry if this seems vague as well, or if it appears that I’m just trying to make excuses— I’m not. Ever since I was younger, I’ve always kind of receded in on myself any time I feel anxious or like a phony. I know it’s not a good habit.

So that’s why I’m here right now, writing this. If I could go back and tell myself that those things I thought about myself weren’t true— that I deserve to have fun in this community and I deserve to talk to the people I care about— I would. But unfortunately, I can’t do that. All I can do is move forward.

I’m not going to sit here and promise that things will be the way that they were back when I first started; not right away, at least. But as of lately I’ve been letting myself peek at my Tumblr dash every so often or log into my Ao3 to see my comments. Those things used to scare me— and they still kind of do right now— but I can’t let them anymore. Joining this community is one of the best things I have ever done. I mean that. The people I’ve met, the comments I’ve received, hell even the discourse I’ve jumped in on— I wouldn’t trade any of it. Things might be overwhelming for a little bit as I adjust to being back after so long, but I want to be here. I want to let myself be happy again.

If you’ve read this far— thank you. Thank you so much for your love and for your patience. Like I said before, I cannot stress enough that my absence was because of myself alone and had nothing to do with my amazing friends on here or the community. If I haven’t messaged you in a long time— again, I apologize. I really, really did drop off. But the only way I can be better at being consistent with the people I care about is by holding myself accountable, not shrinking away.

It may take me a few days to really sort through all of my unread messages and comments and asks and give them the attention they deserve. But I promise, I’ll reach out to everyone whenever I’ve taken the time to do so. Thank you all for being there even when I am not.

Tl;dr—Mentally and financially, I’ve been struggling a lot this past year. I fell back into bad habits of receding into myself and leaving people in the dark, and I really wish I hadn’t. I’d love to be a more active part of this community again. I love all of you so, so much. 

[marireadshellblazer]

Hellblazer Issue #9

Beinveneu, Power Bottoms!

The issue starts off once again hammering home the kind of world John lives in. Glimpses like this of what everyday life is like in John's world are so important for world building. We aren't simply being told the place is bad, we are seeing example after example of problems that are inescapable in his environment. Homelessness, prostitution, domestic violence, murder, etc in all it’s gory and disturbing glory. John walks by all this, not getting involved, meaning that this is at least somewhat normal for him. Yet, it still disturbs him; he isn't really numb to all the chaos and darkness around him. He isn't some hardened "badass" who fears nothing. He understands perfectly well that this isn't ok, but good or bad this is still normal in his world. And I think that he feels powerless to do anything about it.

It could also be that seeing these things all around him has to do with his depressive state. That is, the bad parts of society are so obvious to him because that is what he is choosing to focus on. He sees himself as down in the gutter with this dark side of society. I’m not saying this is all in his head or anything, but I think that his feeling that the world is coming down around him inside is reflective of how he is looking at the outside world. In issues like this one John is largely in his own head. Therefore, the world around him naturally reflects his perspective as opposed to what it is/might be like in reality. When you’re sad the world can feel like it’s rushing on around you, happy and oblivious to sorrow, which gives a heightened sense of loneliness. When you’re worried or anxious, time may seem to be either too fast or too slow, and over sensitivity may make the people around you seem rude, or again oblivious, to the problem even if it’s so obvious to you personally. In John’s case, his guilt and feelings of uselessness and failure cause him to hyper focus on the things that degrade the world around him; the literal destruction in the world around him. This destruction and darkness just keeps pulling him in further, victimizing him the way he victimized the people in his life. The humanoid figures chasing him and the oil trying to claw at him are manifestations of how his mind is further falling into depression and self-loathing. His attention keeps going back to the wreaking ball taking out chunks of a brick building nearby, which reflects how the stress and anguish he feels is taking out chunks of him inside. The pain is eroding his hard outer shell that allows for him to keep it together in the face of danger and madness.

In my opinion, issues where John is our narrator, waxing poetic, are some of the best ones. I just love it. But for the life of me, I’m not able to really explain exactly why.

Happy birthday, indeed.

One thing that, according to what I have read, makes Hellblazer stand out as a comic is that it doesn't really engage in "comic book time"; that is, unlike most comics or shows like Pokémon, the main character isn't 10 years old the entire series. John actually ages in real time. In this chapter, he turns 35, and a few issues later, 5 years after this issue came out, John turned 40. By the end of the series he is getting up close to 60. So, fun little trivia piece there.

All the stress, guilt, and just the everyday gloom have caught up to John on what I imagine is not a happy holiday for him. Poor John.

Beautiful, John. Just lovely.

 Be careful what you wish for, hun.

As far as I can tell, I think the D.T. the man is referring to is delirium tremens, which is a symptom of alcohol withdrawal. I agree, not something you want.

I love that in John’s periods of overwhelming self-pity and self-loathing he becomes quite the poet. Honestly, this issue as a whole is really well written.

Also, he manages to light himself on fire. Oh John…

I’m pretty sure this is a reference to a novel by Richard Fariña.

The scene where John pulls himself back together is just awesome. It’s like that hard outer shell is shaking him like “get it together!!” I just love it.

Something that stood out to me is that the wreaking ball comes in and destroys the couch he had been sitting on after his conversation with himself. He leaves the spot where he was ready to just give in and it’s taken out by the wreaking ball that had been serving as a metaphor for his self-hate the whole issue. He destroys the idea of giving up and just letting things go. Things like this are a great reminder of why I love comics. Imagery like this, even though it can be done through written word, hits different when the imagery is presented through art.

Oh man…Zed. Back in the fold. John really does represent freedom for her. I just feel so bad for her. Her situation is terrible, and she knows that running away will only make things worse and, in the end, unless she’s dead there’s no escape. Cults are scary. I’m glad that they have this understanding despite her insistence on staying. There is a kind of love and trust there. Which John then promptly betrays. I do like their relationship and I wish she could have been around a bit longer.

Their scene together is really a beautiful moment. There’s sadness, there’s passion, and it ends with John realizing that he’s once again gone through with yet another betrayal.

Swamp Thing showing up totally changes the tone. Just wham! And now for something completely different!

Dick move taking over his ciggs. Like dude, those are expensive.

I love this issue. All around good time.

I’m feeling this on a spiritual level rn

[qwirk]

*vigilantes ch. ~64 and main manga ch. ~255 spoilers*

although idk if these are really spoilers if these chapters came out a couple years ago! anime-only fans beware. anyway here’s my extremely long rant about the obvious, not trying to explain anything- i gotta yell!

so that vigilantes arc destroyed me! i’m not good at immediately putting thoughts about media into coherent points but i’m just so sad :( first of all after catching up with the main manga, shirakumo, despite being technically dead during his introduction, rocketed up to one of my favorite if not my favorite character. aizawa is also up there for me- he was first introduced as this strict teacher who seemed to psychologically torment his students for the fun of it, or at least for some yet unknown ulterior motive. but we now know that, while still kinda harsh, he does this to give his students that lead-dropping-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach rush in order to push them to succeed (or something like that?). he truly cares about his students and their growth which has been demonstrated multiple clear times. but what drives him to be like this??

shirakumo!! his actions today are a clear answer to the pushes shirakumo gave him back when they were students. they’re so obviously influenced by shirakumo that they’re almost literally answers. the main chapters are a little foggy because i speedread them at 3 am, but i just caught up with vigilantes. 

at the start, aizawa sees himself as someone who’s constantly just behind and will stay there as everyone moves on. he trudges into class drenched after leaving the kitten behind and he’s super emo about it. meanwhile, shirakumo literally flies through the window, also drenched, saved not only the kitten but aizawa’s umbrella, and manages to put on this cheery (albeit borderline explicit) show about it. it’s a CLEAR contrast between the two and aizawa goes as far to say that he hasn’t reached his “true self yet” while he looks at shirakumo and then says that he starts to change. 

as if it’s not enough for aizawa to beat himself up mentally, his classmates bring him down for not having a “heroic” enough quirk. shirakumo is constantly stepping in to bring him back up, even during real work study stuff, and goes as far to lend him a pair of his goggles so that his eyes become more useful. this becomes a stronger bonding point between aizawa, shirakumo, and hizaishi for them to start looking to the future together. while wearing those goggles, which are protecting his sight from the strong winds on the roof, he stares into the sky, feeling like he’s getting swept into the future like the clouds in the wind. (also the clouds as a metaphor. damn)

and then we come to the last fight. everyone that aizawa looks up to is crushed in the wake of the villain, and he’s the last one standing. there’s a group of children to protect, and he’s panicking and drowning in his overthinking. the way he’s given a huge panel to himself only to be visually overwhelmed by his thought bubbles stood out to me. and then the thing that snaps him out is shirakumo’s voice cheering him on. it’s a bunch of simple praise, but it means everything in the situation. the friend who’s been pulling him up no matter how hopeless or apathetic aizawa feels is of course the one to spur him into action in a life-or-death situation. aizawa realizes he’s gotta fight immediately, and even reminds himself of exactly what shirakumo told him- that his quirk IS useful and levels the playing field. 

i was already kinda spoiled for this part since i read the main manga first, but hearing shirakumo’s cheering the entire time while aizawa is absolutely toiling to defeat this huge villain would have been touching regardless. and when he lands in triumph, hurting but victorious, he screams for his friend to hear that he did it!! but then you see this joy start to like. rot away as soon as it pans to kayama and hizaishi. it’s raining again (THE CLOUDS AS A METAPHOR! DAMN!). shirakumo’s corpse is lying feet away from him, staining the medics’ sheet with blood. i don’t have much to say about this part, it was just a lot for me to process!! also i’m still not entirely sure about the way his speaker works so i might be wrong here, but did he really spend his dying moments with a traumatic head injury cheering on his friend to not only beat the immediate danger, but to self-realization?? or maybe it was prerecorded? idk but either way, truly a hero. 

aizawa and hizaishi are left standing in the rain because once again, “it fits the mood.” so obviously there’s the callback to when aizawa first said that when he comes to class after leaving the kitten and i have yet to fully comprehend it because i have no braincells for interpreting media. i guess maybe it’s like- aizawa at first felt terrible for not being able to save even a kitten while being enrolled in the most prestigious hero course in the country. getting drenched while settling with (what he considers to be) a cowardly measure is the icing to the cake for his self-hatred. it’s the classic “this might as well happen” scenario to get soaked by random rain or a car splashing you with a puddle on a bad morning. rain is sad. but in comes shirakumo, equally drenched but still the bright light that he is. he’s also done everything aizawa couldn’t but wanted to and more in this situation. he could do it not just because of his storing quirk, but because he held the life of someone who needed saving more important than the school rules. this decorum lets the kitten slide as it makes itself at home in the classroom. the rain stops soon after. but then you have shirakumo’s death. once again, aizawa, and even hizaishi, who’s usually always upbeat (almost every panel of him was just him screaming YEAHHHHH. plz give him more dialogue) both agree that the pouring rain fits the mood. this also brings us back to the present that preceded the flashback- koichi just rescued a cat and a child from a villain with aizawa’s help, and now they’re standing under an awning to escape the rain. this situation is literally almost exactly what happened at the beginning of the flashback which is why i guess it brought it on, but it’s interesting to see what changed- aizawa is the one who’s learned from this situation and teaching the student the meaning of responsibility (using an abandoned cat as an example, no less), and they’re all properly shielded from the elements this time. i guess the conclusion (that could be totally wrong) i’m coming to is that the rain sort of represents the adversaries aizawa faces in life- his self-deprecation, those that don’t believe in him, his personal failures that he has been facing lately. shirakumo has always been there to guide him past it, and once he lifts up aizawa nothing can shake him again. but now that he’s definitively gone, it’s back to haunt him for this one last moment of sheer grief. it’s only this one moment though, as aizawa clearly uses this moment to move on and better himself not just for his sake, but for everyone counting on him. he’s escaped the rain.

it’s so clear how this manifests in the main manga and i’m so happy vigilantes was able to spin out such a good backstory and explanation for his actions!! one of the most immediate ways we see his ideals stand out is his taking in of shinsou as his apprentice from general studies. it’s absolutely because he sees himself in this boy. he has a quirk that’s seemingly useless once you get into combat and everyone thinks he’s a creep for it. more people might even wary around shinsou than aizawa’s case. during the a vs. b practice fights, shinsou explains what he did wrong, clearly upset at himself for not doing enough. aizawa immediately pulls himself up, reminding him that in order to achieve what he just said, he’d have to be a pro, and that what he managed was more than enough. these parallels between aizawa and shinsou are definitely hinted at in the main story, like when midoriya underestimate’s his prowess in combat at usj, but with the vigilantes arc everything is so much clearer. in the main manga, we get a direct reference of aizawa’s expulsion rate in relation to how it helps students grow when they face “’death’” as he’s interrogating kurogiri. though dramatic, i feel like it has to be linked to the dire situation aizawa faced when the pro heros and shirakumo got knocked out during that one fight because of its placement in the chapter. he understands better than most in the story that a lot of times pushes, whether big or small, are needed to grow. he wants to be to his students what shirakumo was to him.

OK EDIT because i didn’t realize there was more to the arc after 64 lol. so obviously after shirakumo dies aizawa’s and hizaishi’s dreams of starting a triple hero agency have been dashed. aizawa seems to distance himself from hizaishi, or at least they’re on uneasy speaking terms. he’s coping by training super hard and is bent on going solo after graduation, the opposite of what they had all planned. but this time, he has conviction on what he’s going to do with himself, and that’s great! he learns that you have to be there for yourself in life. there’s a small montage leading from graduation to where is now in vigilantes and it’s been hard, but he’s been making it. still a lone wolf as ever, aside from the pushes from kayama to become teachers with her and hizaishi at ua. he thinks doing that would be a stupid choice for him, he’s been alone this whole time and doesn’t work well with others (anymore, he thinks). but now that he’s in the cafe with everyone, he changes seeing everyone fawn over the cat but their new dreams of being a popular cat cafe. 

the impact of seeing their newfound hope brings him back to another flashback of the rooftop trio, and THE PARALLELS!!! of them also dreaming to start their hero agency based on their first rescue of sushi the cat. back in the present, aizawa, who’s been spacing off, suddenly realizes the sky and his mind have cleared (THE CLOUDS KEEP COMING BACK AS A METAPHOR!!! if this happens in the main story i’ll cry). i’m still not 100% sure of what exactly makes the dots connect for him, but it’s been hinted through the flashbacks and his reactions to the rescued cat that he’s actually a good teacher himself, though he had been mainly shown to have learned from others around him. he drilled husbandry requirements into shirakumo and interrogated koichi about responsibility as if they were second nature. i think aizawa realized that he’s actually always had a soft spot for watching people grow and do good things and wants to be a part of facilitating that. or at least because he wasn’t able to accomplish doing good with his friends originally, he wants to help other accomplish the goal he couldn’t. also the fact that kayama still sends him updates on sushi isn’t just really nice of her, but it’s also another representation of how aizawa’s convictions he developed as a student still drive him to do what he does today.

MY MAIN POINT IS: aizawa really loves shirakumo. to have so much of his character based in the lessons he purposefully or inadvertently taught him is an amazing testament to that appreciation. aizawa never emotes except for the occasional creepy smile when he psychologically toys with 1a, but the emotion he displayed during the interrogation really caught me by surprise. the apathetic emo character suddenly being truly happy or sad is a cliche but this panel right fucking here was so powerful to me:

yeah his eyes are always bloodshot as a trademark to his quirk, but the emotional EXHAUSTION written on his face is so starkly different than his usual boredom. this feeling that horikoshi illustrates in two small panels is so human that it’s instantly recognizable deep in our hearts. we’ve all been in those heavy and direly serious moments that wrack our mental and emotional fortitudes, where the only response manageable without hideously breaking down is some subtle motion of the hand or crinkle of the face. we all know what this means without understanding the japanese onomatopoeia or needing additional dialogue. before i read vigilantes, i still immediately understood what this man meant to aizawa. and that’s why i love shirakumo so much!! we all know at least a little how aizawa used to feel as a student, and to have someone constantly pushing you and acting as such a light in your moments of darkness is something so incredibly special. i really hope they’re able to get him out of his nomu state so those three can finally become heros together :’)

god!!!!!!!!!!

[jbrockwa]

“So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him”

Dr. Manhattan, himself, talks about his transformation as a sort of “death and rebirth,” because he marks this event as the sort of turning point in his life, the moment when his newfound relationship to external and internal sensations, and to life and death drove a wedge between his experiences (consciousness) and his humanity (material manifestation). Jon’s initial fascination with watchmaking is very revealing in terms of who he would ‘become” as Manhattan, of what a person like him would make of himself when endowed with the abilities of a god. 

Throughout Chapter IV, there is a recurring image of a black sheet of velvet which has cogs laid out across its surface, and the image is intercut between other temporally nonlinear story panels. The image is meant to draw a resemblance between the stars (as components of a larger “mechanized” universe) that dot the chapter’s background and the watch’s cogs (as components of a literal machine). Watches often have a peculiarly significant bearing on Manhattan’s fate, as each step that he identifies as having led to him being locked in the intrinsic field generator is connected to his fascination with repairing watches. The aforementioned image of the cogs first appears on the chapter's second page, and follows after a panel of Dr. Manhattan fondly recalling his father, formerly a watchmaker, who "admired the sky for its precision.” 

Manhattan says this while he himself is found gazing up at the stars on the surface of Mars, trying to find a “name [for] the force the put them in motion” (IV, 2). This nameless force is to the stars what Manhattan is in relation to the “cogs” of the watches he fixes; he sets them in motion, and transforms them from atomized “parts” into an interconnected system. The chapter’s title, “Watchmaker” is fittingly juxtaposed with Manhattan pondering what is behind the creation and existence of the universe, almost “answering,” his question; whatever “force” is behind the “setting in motion of the stars,” likely resembles him, as he is the closest thing to a legitimate deity, or god, in the story.

This sequence of combined images of and narration by Dr. Manhattan relates the character to his father, and uncovers the reasons for Manhattan’s fixation on “finer details,” on the way in which individual components interact and bring greatly complex “things” (i.e from the vast universe to finely tuned watches) into existence. To Manhattan, there is no discrepancy between the atomized components of a “thing,” and the “thing” itself which is made up of those components, because that “thing’s” existence is contingent on the interrelationship of it’s components, the relationship is direct, and therefore Manhattan views things in their totality, he sees the “bigger picture” as it were.

The next time this image of the cogs appears is on the following page, when Manhattan recalls the very moment in which his dreams were crushed by his father. A 16 year old Jon Osterman sits, fidgeting with a watch he is projected to fix. However, after hearing of the invention of atomic bomb following it’s “successful” deployment on Hiroshima, Jon’s father insists his son pursue sciences in atomic energy and forgo the family trade of watchmaking. 

His father then dumps the pieces of the watch he was working on over their balcony, the final twist of the knife, so to speak. As the cogs fall, the following panel jumps to 15 minutes into Manhattan’s future on Mars, where he watches as a meteor shower grazes the atmosphere of the red planet. This again draws similarities between the meteorites (shooting stars as they are often misidentified), celestial bodies that interact with one another to form of the whole of the universe, and cogs, which are obviously components of a watch. With what we know of Manhattan’s characterization up to this point in the story, we can see how his particular fascination with the intricate beauty of minutia has lended itself to his development.

At the end of the previous chapter, Manhattan is abruptly confronted with accusations that his atomic structure may be linked to the cancer found in Moloc, Janey Slater, among others who have found themselves “entangled” in Manhattan’s life. Here, after an interrogative bombardment on the part of the press, Manhattan is faced with a unique of vulnerability; he is overwhelmed, and for once he doesn't have an immediate, off-hand solution. Nothing that he can “materialize” out of thin air will be of any use to his current predicament. His omnipotence is made useless, and he breaks down because of his lack of foresight and readiness. More interesting, though, and more telling of his exact character, is his response.

After his meltdown he first undresses from his suit, which was more or less a "human costume" for the sake of his on-air appearance. He then teleports to Gila Flats, New Mexico, to revisit where he first met Janey, as the invocation of her name surely put the rest of his life in perspective and had him waxing philosophically about his past. He grabs an old photograph of the two of them before teleporting to Mars, where he reminisces on Janey and their relationship, the first time he was introduced to her, when he touched her hand at the moment she bought him a drink. Notice in his retrospective that he remembers the particular details of the situation that consolidate the image of his memory. This is reflective of how a watchmaker makes their living; looking at the whole of the watch will tell you little in terms to what need’s to be fixed, or what exactly has broken. You must put into perspective the exact mechanisms that allow the watch to function, or in this case which prevents the watch from functioning. 

When he grows tired of looking at the photo, his attention shifts to the stars, where he ponders their existence and remarks that they are merely "old photographs" of what they once were; by the time their light reaches us, they are gone and forgotten about by the void of the universe. Notice how throughout this sequence, while he appears to have a photographic memory that picks up on every detail, he actually has a tendency to focus in on things he personally fines "fascinating," or what he regards as simply beautiful. This is a defining characteristic of Manhattan, I would contest, as it essentially results in his “undoing,” or his detachment from humanity, keeping him distanced from the human experience. 

Manhattan is caught up with and sort of “stuck on” the necessary components of the “things” (i.e., cogs as they relate to watches, the physical beauty of his former and contemporary lovers, old photographs of his personal favorite memories, etc.) constitute his world. In his moments of awestruck wonder and analysis, he often ends up looking at the world around him for so long, that he is only able to see past it. In trying to understand the exact function and nature of larger “things,” he ends up missing the entire “point.” This reveals the flaw of Manhattan’s “godliness,” that cannot merely "be" or exist as an all-powerful, all-seeing, and all-being figure, and it has clearly contributed to his now broken and depressive mindset. It his not despite his “extra-normal” perception and senses that Manhattan is no longer able to find pleasure in his favorite activities, but is, ironically enough, because of these superpowers. His abilities work insofar as they provide him an unparalleled opportunity to get closer to the stars than any human could ever dream of, however this power does not, still, allow for him to fully understand their essential nature or origin or overall place in the universe as a whole; he fails to see past the "bigger picture,” even as a god.

Dr. Manhattan, in the same vein of a traditionalist, Judeo-Christian interpretation of God, has shaped the world (and as a consequence, forged the path of humanity) in his image. His “creations” are reflective of how he, an omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent being, operates in a world composed of crude matter. The radical progress in scientific, political, and social developments that America has made as a result of the arrival of Dr. Manhattan are in many ways aesthetic: new and shiny. They are upgraded models of American lifestyles and traditions: the roasted, four-legged chicken, spotted in the first chapter, the futuristic-looking cars, as well as the airships that dot the background of many of the story's panels, all of these progressive technological steps "forward" contribute to society perhaps feeling comforted, and safe; even Manhattan, especially as a means of preventing the escalation of nuclear war with the Soviet Union, is a sort of pillar of security and protection. 

However, these inventions reflect Manhattan's detachment from the true needs of humanity, which very obviously transcend the likes of material indulgences. In the midst of a Cold War, Manhattan's otherworldly might and power have produced what are essentially bandaids, comparatively speaking. In this way, these benchmarks of progress that have cemented themselves into the alternate history of Moore's Watchmen also mirror Dr. Manhattan's relationships, and his troubles with commitment, intimacy, attachment, and sociability, 

Manhattan's inadequate solutions to the ails of man are similar to his failure to reciprocate intimacy with Laurie Jupiter in the beginning of Chapter III, when he is seen sort of "cloning" himself to tend to Laurie while he is meanwhile duplicitously working on one of his many science experiments in the next room over. In both these instances, Manhattan creates a sort of distraction, one that he is able to imagine from the limited perspective of an at once out of touch and omnipotent being, one that will aesthetically please the American people and/or Laurie, but one that also fails to get to the root of the issues eating away at them. 

With Laurie, Manhattan assumes, two being better than one in his mind, that his partner won't mind his mental absence from them engaging in intimacy. Manhattan's intervention in society in general. as well as his interpersonal relationships with others, have worked merely to cover up the blemishes of the more deeply rooted issues by means of fast and fancy cars, genetically modified chickens, and kinky threesomes with clones. These inventions and gestures function as extensions of and, in many ways, metaphors for Dr. Manhattan’s mode of being; their inadequacy in terms of accurately diagnosing and treating the problems humanity is faced with prove that image of Manhattan as a Nietzschean ubermensch that society at large has come to associate him with is ill-conceived.

Speaking more on Dr. Manhattan as being perceived by the public as the "Superman," the character largely exists as a symbol of the best a man can be, a sort of “upgrade” from the prototypical model of “a man.” This indicates that he still possesses and is affected by the same woes and shortcomings that effect humans. This is reflected in his tendency, even prior to Osterman's transformation into Manhattan, to neglect his significant others and prioritize his scientific endeavors and pet projects over their needs. In this sense, we can determine he may not necessarily meet the qualifications for being a god, but an extraordinary man endowed with the ability of a god, and more importantly, left with the particularly human faculties to wield and process these abilities. Manhattan's "powers" certainly give him extra-human senses, such as his heightened perception of time and his teleportation abilities, but even these powers get in Manhattan's own way, and cause him to lose sight of the what’s important to his life and to humanity as a whole. 

This is evident from the very introduction of the character of Dr. Manhattan in the first chapter, where he is  boasted, before we even have a chance of seeing him, as the "indestructible man" by Rorscach. In his establishing panel, Manhattan is shown towering over Rorschach at the foreground of the image, yet in all his might and intimidation, he is distracted, tinkering with an unnamed piece of equipment in his lab, likely where he's been for quite some time prior to this introduction. This panel juxtaposes Manhattan's persona and image as a "God," with his cold detachment from humanity and subtly demonstrates how his God-like intellect, perception, and senses prevent him from seeing the importance of that which is happening right in front of him. Dr. Manhattan is, even in the immediate aftermath of a suspicious murder, a crisis, more concerned with the events occuring on a microscopic level, or dismantling, assessing, and reconstructing some futuristic piece of technology beyond any other character’s understanding; he won't even stop to heed his old friend's warning. 

It is, in addition, no accident that the story ends with Jon teleporting Rorschach in response to Laurie's complaint that he is "upsetting" her. Manhattan's response to her comparatively minor annoyance is performing the miracle of teleporting Rorschach away, outside the facilities. This moment works to show Manhattan can do whatever he chooses, it shows that he is all powerful insofar as he can relocate people to his choosing, can shape-shift, and telekinetically dismantle machinery, but it's more a matter of what personally concerns him, what seems pressing by his own metrics. It should alarm us that Manhattan doesn't see the difference between a living and a dead body, and that he is yet so depended upon in this alternate American timeline.

Finally, an aspect of Dr. Manhattan’s origin (and character as whole) I find most curious is that in the process of “rebuilding” of himself, he had to have had some understanding of what components would be necessary for him to “come into being” again, but in this process he was somehow “unable” to reconfigure himself as fully human. His origin story reveals him as having always possessed a genius level intellect, however, emotionally he has always been absent and distanced. Even before his omniscience allegedly “soiled” his relationship to the material realm and to life itself, he never had a barometer for complex emotional interactions. During the time leading up to his transformation he was a 30 year-old man who was clearly not prepared to be apart of a serious relationship with Janey. He was still mentally absent from her needs as his significant other. Even in that moment of “intimacy” with Laurie, he is constantly trying and failing to please her. This allows us to imagine what would happen if “God” was there to answer every one of our prayers. It would still, as Watchmen notes, leave us unsatisfied, because there are no real satisfying answers, even for a god.

[pulveremcomedesligulas]

Change of Hands

So this is a little 2.3k thing I wrote based off the lovely art from @liccy on tumblr!! When I first saw the Hyrule holding Wild picture in this post I had a lot of emotions. And while this isn't the original idea Liccy had when she made the drawing (as it was made as a sequel to this beautiful art piece by @scribbs-dibbs [who I unfortunately can’t tag, but I send them my love!]) my brain kinda ran away with this idea so I had to write it.

I totally recommend everyone go check out both of these amazing artists' works, because they are both awesome and deserve love.

Also, Liccy, thank you so much for letting me write for your beautiful art! It has been so much fun and an absolute honor.

Cross-posted on ao3

Now onto the story!!

* * * 

It was supposed to be a normal dungeon. No one had expected anything… off about it. Wild and Hyrule had even gotten permission to explore it.

It should’ve been fine.

And it was, until they got to about three quarters of the way through and were met with a figure in a dark crimson robe standing - no, floating - a few paces in front of them.

It confused them both, because they’d already beaten the mini-boss of the dungeon, and they hadn’t gotten to the point of finding the boss key yet, so reason would say that this was a normal enemy.

Except it didn’t look like any of the enemies either had ever faced before.

“Hero of Hyrule, Hero of the Wild,” said a voice from the cloaked figure. The voice had no identifiable features, sounding ethereal and ancient in a way that sent shivers down both of the heroes’ spines the with dark power it radiated. “You hold the golden power that I seek, and the divine blessing carried by those chosen of the Goddess Hylia. Surrender to me now that I may obtain these both.”

Wild didn’t miss the small gasp from Hyrule at the mention of a ‘golden power’, nor did he overlook the way Hyrule’s right hand hovered closer to his left.

But neither of them responded to the figure’s demands beyond both readying their weapons.

“You have chosen to not surrender,” the voice said. “And with this choice, your lives are now forfeit.”

…

Wild wasn’t sure how long ago their initial encounter with the cloaked figure had been. All he knew is that he and Hyrule had been running through the rooms of the dungeon (now enchanted by the figure - who had to be a sorcerer, Hyrule had said - to move and change so the map they had both worked hard to find was now useless.

Poisonous gas flooded through the chambers, settling about knee high off the ground, but still managing to seep into their bodies, slowly draining both their health and energy.

Surges of enemies they had already killed off came back to attack them, and traps they had already disarmed appeared at the worst times to add to the damage.

Wild had already had to rely on Mipha’s Grace once to heal himself, and even with doing that, he could feel his health still steadily decreasing. Hyrule was in just as bad, if not worse shape, having used a great deal of his power to get them away from the sorcerer’s initial attacks and to heal himself once when he was on death’s door.

At one point, Hyrule stumbled, and Wild was barely able to catch him in time to keep him from falling face first into the poison layer at their feet.

There was a small ledge a few feet away from where they stood, peeking up above the poison. Wild quickly moved Hyrule over to the ledge, helping his friend climb up onto the ledge and settle his back against the cavern wall.

“We need to rest,” Wild said, trying to prop Hyrule up as best as he could.

“We can’t stop,” Hyrule protested, despite his eyes sliding closed. “The sorcerer will find us.”

Wild knew he was better off than Hyrule, and he hated it. Mipha would keep healing him every time his health got too low. But she couldn’t heal Hyrule - Wild had already begged for her to, and even though Mipha was willing, her powers just didn’t work like that.

“Just a few minutes,” Wild insisted. “I’m sure I have a potion or…”

He paused as he noticed the faint flicker of golden light coming from Hyrule’s left hand.

“Uh, ‘Rule, what is that?”

Hyrule blinked his eyes open and looked in alarm to where Wild had gestured. When he realized what it was, he gave a defeated sort of chuckle and moved to take off the bracer that covered the back of his hand.

“That,” he said. “Is the ‘golden power’ the sorcerer is trying to kill us for.”

Wild stared in amazement at the flickering golden light of the complete Triforce on the back of Hyrule’s hand.

“You… You didn’t tell us,” Wild said softly.

“I couldn’t,” Hyrule answered. “I… I’ve been betrayed and hunted too many times for this. I was terrified to let anyone know… at first. I wanted to tell you all but…” Hyrule gave a weak cough before grimacing.

“Can it heal you?” Wild asked. He admittedly didn’t know much about the Triforce. He knew his Zelda had wielded its power before, but beyond that…

Hyrule shook his head. “I don’t have the energy to wield it right now. It’s flickering like this because it knows we’re in danger, but…”

He didn’t have the chance to finish before the ground began to shake around them. Behind where Hyrule sat, the wall began to crumble and give way, falling into a dark, black abyss behind them. Wild cried out in alarm as the ground beneath Hyrule began to fall away as well.

Hyrule looked up at Wild with a look of fear in his eyes right before he was sent plummeting into the abyss.

Wild barely had time to process it before he was reacting - springing forward and grabbing Hyrule’s outstretched left hand right as he fell. He held Hyrule suspended in the air above a seemingly bottomless ravine below.

“Hold on, I’ll pull you up!” Wild called, tightening his grip on Hyrule’s hand.

But the poisonous cloud had risen in with the shaking ground, and was now slowly creeping up the length of Wild’s stomach where he lay holding tightly to his friend. The gas burned his eyes, nose, and throat even as he tried to close them off against it.

“Give in, little heroes,” the voice of the sorcerer intoned behind Wild. “Give in.”

Wild could feel his health draining as the poison clouded around him. He couldn’t give in. He had to save Hyrule.

“Wild, you can’t,” Hyrule said. His voice was weak, the increased flow of poison reaching him as it tumbled off the end of the cliff. “You can’t save me now.”

“I’m not going to let you go,” Wild growled. He could feel tears coming to his eyes that weren’t from the poison. “I can’t lose you. I won’t lose anyone. Never again.”

Wild could barely see Hyrule shake his head through the tears and gas.

“I’m sorry, but this time you have to.”

Wild felt Hyrule squeeze his hand, and with it came a flood of power that Wild never expected. The power coursed up his right arm with an explosive force, tearing away Wild’s sleeve as swirls of golden light danced up the limb.

The power took Wild by surprise, and forced his hand open, releasing his hold on Hyrule.

“NO!” Wild screamed, not able to see as Hyrule fell but already feeling that piece of his heart (the ⅛ he had given to Hyrule, just as he had given the same to each of the others in his new family) shattering.

A dark chuckle sounded behind Wild and he turned his head to see the sorcerer standing there.

“It seems that there is only one life left for me to take now,” they said. “Then the golden power will be mine.”

At the mention of the golden power, Wild dropped his eyes down to stare at his hand. There, shining brightly and radiating more power than Wild could ever imagine, was the symbol of the Triforce, glowing and whole.

Hyrule had given it to him, wanting him to protect it.

And Wild would.

“Please,” he whispered to the power now flooding his veins. “Please lend me your strength.”

With a flash of brilliant light, Wild felt the power of the Triforce surge. He couldn’t help the yell that tore from his throat as he targeted the power at the sorcerer.

The sorcerer embodied darkness and all that chosen of Hylia stood against. Wild raised his hand, glowing with the divine power of the Golden Goddesses, and willed the darkness to be purged.

The light flared and an ear-splitting shriek echoed through the room as the Triforce burned away the spells and their source with a fury that threatened to overwhelm Wild. But it was over within seconds, dimming down and revealing an empty chamber exactly as it was before the sorcerer had appeared. The broken wall and floor were both repaired and there was no other sound beyond Wild’s labored breathing and the rapid beating of his heart.

Wild fell to his knees, holding his hand tightly to his chest. He’d defeated the enemy, made everything back to how it should be.

He’d won.

But it wasn’t enough. Despite the victory, Wild still felt hollow. Looking at his hand again, he couldn’t hold back the choked sob.

He hadn’t been able to save Hyrule. He’d let Hyrule fall. He couldn’t save him.

He had failed. And now… now he was alone.

Again.

He couldn’t go back to the others… not without Hyrule. He couldn’t… couldn’t face them. Not when he knew what they would say.

It was his fault. He’d let it happen.

Sure, some of them would try to reassure him with false words. Twilight and Four and Time would probably all say he did his best. Wind would offer him a hug and Sky a shoulder to cry on. Warriors would probably just give him that look of understanding that was one that seasoned soldiers all understood. And Legend…

Gods he knew he couldn’t face Legend. He’d just let Legend’s protege - the only other one from Legend’s timeline and the only one of their group that Legend had actually easily been able to open up to - fall to his death.

Just another person to add to the list of people that Wild’s failures had taken someone important from, he guessed.

Wild knew he wasn’t going to be able to go back to them. He couldn’t face the reactions they would give him. Which meant…

He was alone again.

Another sob ripped from his throat as he opened his eyes - not having realized they had been closed - and stared at the still glowing mark on his hand.

“Can’t you bring him back?” he begged. “He was your chosen protector after all. Can’t you bring him back?”

“That’s unfortunately not a power the Triforce has,” a voice said from behind Wild. The champion hero’s head flew up to see Hyrule standing there, a small smile on his face. He looked beaten up still, sporting several cuts and bruises on his face, but he was there. With a watery laugh, he continued “It can’t bring someone back from a certain death of falling off a cliff… at least not on its own. It needs a particularly determined wielder to be able do something like that.”

Wild let out some type of cry as he leapt to his feet and threw himself at Hyrule, successfully knocking the other to his ass.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Hyrule said. “I’m here.”

Wild buried his face deeper into Hyrule’s tunic, gripping it tightly like a lifeline as he sobbed.

“You were gone,” he whispered. “You… I couldn’t save you. I failed and I couldn’t… I didn’t want to be alone again.”

Another sobbed ripped from him and he tightened his grip, trying to convince himself that Hyrule was there. He wasn’t imagining this. He was there.

Wild felt tears drop down onto his head as Hyrule lifted his hands to his hair, pulling him closer.

“It’s okay,” Hyrule murmured softly. “You did what you had to, and it turned out okay. You didn’t fail. And I promise, you aren’t going to be left alone.”

Soft fingers combed through the looser strands of his hair as Wild let out a shaky breath, feeling his energy draining as he sank in Hyrule’s hold.

“You’re not alone Wild,” Hyrule said quietly. “We aren’t going to leave you alone. I swear it.”

…

After taking some time to recover, they left the dungeon pretty quickly. The others were waiting for them, worried looks on each of their faces. They had felt the surge of the Triforce’s power, and hadn’t known what to think.

Wild and Hyrule had explained as best as they could, as well as explaining that Wild was now the one who would be the protector of the Triforce from that point on.

It had been hard to explain, and Wild hadn’t wanted to admit to anyone the real reason he was still torn up.

He couldn’t admit that when he hadn’t been able to save Hyrule from falling… he felt like he had failed again. That he was alone again.

But that night as he cooked dinner for his friends, he remembered Hyrule’s words.

That he hadn’t failed.

That he wasn’t alone.

And he realized that those words were true.

He hadn’t failed.

He wasn’t alone.

Wild looked up at the others scattered around the campsite. Twilight and Warriors were in the middle of a sparring match that Wind was intently watching. Four and Time were carefully looking over the various pieces of the group’s equipment, murmuring quietly to each other and making note of the different pieces that needed repairs. Sky was leaned up against a tree, a piece of wood and his carving knife in hand as he whistled a peaceful tune. Legend had pulled Hyrule to the side and currently was fussing over the various injuries that Hyrule had.

Wild watched them, and knew that he had all pieces of his heart again, together and whole.

It was enough to bring a smile to his face.

But not enough to let Hyrule convince him to help with dinner.

They’d both had enough poison for one day, after all.