#but is it a worse ending than failure? well thats the rub

[isaacathom]

i have so many thoughts about my campaign but absolutely nothing coherent. just snatches of ideas. the most clear thing i have in my head is that, if the acting-commodore steps down once he has liberty, and in the ensuing election and hullabaloo, naielle becomes commodore, there is absolutely no way she comes back from the jade sea

naielle understands how she gets when shes stressed, when theres crisis. theres a point along this bell curve of emotion, pursuant to context, where she stops thinking about herself and only those around her. and once that threshold is passed, she'll do damn near anything for them.

as commodore, her station would necessitate being that much more aware of the crisis. that much more aware of the state of play. that much more aware of the myriad lives that she holds in her hands.

she would cross that threshold far sooner.

she knows this about herself, and it applies outside of formal responsibility. she knows this, and does not know how to change it, and so instead she removes options from herself. like changing the phone's password just before wisdom teeth removal to prevent from saying something nonsensical online, she has to put the weapon away before she becomes of a mind to use it.

she's failed at that before. she told herself the weapon she had would be safe in her hands, that she'd use it only for 'good', and not ill. and in short order she had used it to enthrall, to even temporarily rob a man of free will.

she has such a weapon now. two, even, if you like.

the first, and least likely to kill her outright, is a caged king of dragons, whose essence is hostile to mortality but whose personality is not, who sees the crew as a means to liberate himself, his breathren, and their domain. she uses his power sparingly for its risk, but she's come close before, and been lucky not to be overwhelmed. there is far more power she could gain from him, but it would tear at her from the inside, like a hollowing parasite. she's seen a dragon's power wrought on a mortal, and seen that he marks a man decades older than he ought be. She may be an elf, but even decades would see her predecease a great many people, and that assumes it does not do her worse. She doesn't know.

the second is the offer, if it can be called that, of her patron. reach for the stars, young elf, and find the divine. channel his power in the storm to banish the dark, and in so doing lose yourself. merge with the celestial. its death, she thinks when out of crisis. sure, theres a lingering of the soul, bound in the eternal starlight of the astral sea. but the form is gone, and much of the person. to merge with him would change her, and she would never see her loved ones again.

but his power could save them all.

a naielle who is mere captain, whose responsibilites are smaller, who is delegated specific tasks, has the capacity to decide to be selfish. she has the capacity, and the excuse perhaps, to decide that she refuses godhood. she can risk success for her own soul, if she likes. she may yet do so.

a naielle who is commodore, and for whom's patron remains in earshot, will take that weapon and point it at their ultimate foe, and consider one life worth thousands.

[hadestownmodern]

What you’re made for

Hey guys! So this is a Eurydice and Persephone moment, but it’s a little different. It was written, really, for one specific moment in the fic that really helps to establish the relationship they have, an I hope y’all know what it is when you stumble across that line!

In a addition this is literally the point where Eurydice’s second daughter is born, like... thats literally this fic, so just know that while we go into it!

-A

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go watch Melody?” Persephone coos, fingers gently tracing back Eurydice’s sweat soaked bangs that clung to her forehead. “I can take her crying for a little while, if you want Orpheus back.”

“No, no..” Eurydice whimpers, squeezing her eyes shut as she grasps at Persephone’s hand again. She leans back on the woman, who is walking her around the room, relying on her for almost all of her ability to stay standing. She is stalled in her words, biting hard on her lip as she grasps at the railing on the foot of the bed. Her breathing is heavy but short, as she holds it for minute long stretches of time. This wave passes, and she gasps out in relief. 

 “She needs one of her parents..and she can’t really have me right now. And Orpheus, I love him more than anything Seph, but he can’t watch me like this. It upsets him which upsets me and- you can get him right before it’s really time, okay?”

“Why don’t you sit down, baby.” Persephone suggests, voice gentle but not patronizing, as she coaxes Eurydice towards the end of the bed. Without taking any arguments, Persephone leans her back in the bed, still tightly holding onto the young girl’s hand. “The second one comes much faster, I really can go get him now so he doesn’t miss it..” This was not the first woman Persephone had seen in labor, considering the hundreds that had arrived at her childhood home for her mother’s assistance, but this was the first who meant so much to her. 

“Melody needs him, that’s where he needs to be. He takes care of that baby, I take care of this-” She goes silent as another contraction takes her, her fingers interlocking with Persephone’s as she grasps tightly, her grip draining the color from both their fingers. Neither complains.  A few moments later she releases her grip and relaxes into the scratchy sheets. “He’s got her, I’ve got this one. He can’t see the pain..”

“He’s always been so attune to that. When he was younger and I would- well, if I’d be upset- he’d know. He’d do anything he could to make me smile. He’s always been sweet like that…” Yet, she knew the boy, and that seeing this woman he loves more than anything in such agony.. He would take it to heart. And likely, blame himself. “You know what would have been less painful? A condom.”

“Oh shush, It’s worth it. I can’t wait for Melody to meet them..” Eurydice sighs in relief almost immediately before her body tenses up again, pulling Persephone’s arm around her as she tenses.

Persephone watches, as Eurydice gets worse and worse. The girl, with an incredible pain tolerance, is diminishing before her. Her entire little body is shaking violently under the little blanket. Her playful banter gone, the only sound coming from her varying between the chattering of her teeth, pitiful whimpers, and agonized, sobbing cries. 

She’s moved to sitting up in the bed leaning against Persephone as she sits between her legs. Eurydice leans her head back, to rest on Persephone’s shoulder as she sobs. Persephone’s eyes are trained on the monitors around her, keenly aware of what they all mean for the future of Eurydice and her baby, and how in a second they could change. She’s holding a cold towel around her neck, the other hand gently pressing into Eurydice’s lower back to relieve any pressure on her nerves that she can manage. It isn’t much, but she can remember the feeling of her own mother’s hands on her own body, easing her through the day Junie had been born six years prior. 

Eurydice is wordless as she sobs, her entire body weight resting on Persephone sitting behind her. She grasps at Persephone’s knee, her chest propelled forward as her body is wrecked by a unique combination of pain and fear. Her nails dig into her friend’s knee, but Persephone doesn’t complain as her own hands rest on the back of Eurydice’s, thumbs rubbing circles on the back of her palms. 

“I can’t do it” Eurydice chokes out, hands shaking so violently as she reaches for her own face, the other coming to rest on her chest, trying desperately to calm the panic, the fear, that overtook her. Fear of uncertainty and pain rip her from the moment at hand, distorting her mind in what she can only imagine is an attempt to help her survive. It’s like she is out of her own body, once again the little girl who was never quite enough. It is years of unresolved anxiety, pain, and trauma, mounting in her as her own body betrays her to the feeling of agony.  The pain of abandonment, of physical mistreatment, of losing her mother- it all seemed to both dull and amplify in this moment. “I can’t, it hurts too much. I can’t do it, mama, I can’t. Please, please don’t leave me.”

It slips out before Eurydice realizes, and in truth, she doesn’t even know that it does. Her language is beyond her, some primal part of her brain pushing her to just be. Just exist. Just survive.

Persephone inhales sharply, doing her best not to react. It’s not the time to mention the word, nor will it ever be. It’s been sent to the universe and that is where it will stay, disseminated between them in a moment that Persephone isn’t sure she’ll ever forget. 

It has to be nothing more than a slip of the tongue, she convinces herself, as she wraps her arms around Eurydice’s middle, kissing the top of her head. Instead of addressing it she threads a hand through Eurydice’s hair, pushing it from her eyes, wiping at her skin with a cool towel. “Shhh, baby, of course you can. Of course you can. It’s what you’re made for, baby.” 

She can hear it in her head, Demeter’s gentle voice promising her those same words before her own daughter was born. She can feel her gentle hands on her shoulders, pulling her hair off of her neck as she kissed her cheek. Demeter, who had nothing but faith in her that day and every day before and after. It’s what you’re made for. 

She can remember the fear, the way she begged her mother not to make her  look, the thought of seeing another baby born lifeless too much for her heart to handle. She couldn’t survive it again. She was used to it, the failure of her own body, taking the one thing she wanted more than anything over and over and over again. 

“I can’t mama, I can’t do it. Don’t make me look, I can’t.” She remembers pleading, sobbing into her hands until her mother, her mother with her gentle sweet hands pried her arms apart and laid her daughter there. She can remember her mother moving her hands to her daughter’s little frame, feeling her head bobbing on her chest. 

“She’s lookin’ for you, baby. Come on, open your eyes and look at your girl.” Demeter coaxes, her fingers running over Persephone’s head. “I told you, baby. You could do it.” She promises, kissing her temple her hand still behind the baby’s head as she holds her daughter and granddaughter both. “You’re made for this, Honeybee Baby.”

“I’ve got you. I’m right here, and i’m not going anywhere.” Persephone promises, kissing her temple again. “You aren’t alone, baby. You aren’t alone and I promise you. You can do this.” She’s pulling Eurydice’s hair into half a ponytail ontop of her head, fingers tracing her scalp. “You don’t really have a choice, now, do you?” She tries to joke, though she knows her playful friend is lost in this moment, something far more feral running her body. 

 She is acutely aware of the flurry of activity surrounding Eurydice, as various health care professionals trail in and out,  shifting at her and prodding her. Eurydice, with all her pride, is stronger than Persephone could imagine being, as doctors and nurses try to instruct her. 

Eurydice is entirely relying on Persephone to keep her upright, holding onto both of her hands to anchor her to the room, to remind her that she is physically present. Exhausted doesn’t begin to cover how she feels, the short but intense second labor having taken far more out of her than it had with Melody exactly two years prior. 

Persephone is acutely aware of the conversations around Eurydice, and the mumbling of interventions and other medically minded words flying over the girls head. “No.” Persephone speaks sharply, directed at some nearby nurses. “You aren’t giving up on her,” she snaps, before resting her head against Eurydice’s again.

Eurydice is wide eyed as she looks back at Persephone, tears a seemingly permanent fixture on her face. She nods a little, acknowledging the silent exchange between them, as Persephone whispers endless encouragement to her. 

There is a flurry of activity that they are lost in the second Eurydice relaxes into Persephone with a heavy, relieved sigh. There isn’t even time for her to acknowledge what has happened before her squirming baby is placed against her chest, her arms wrapping around her immediately. 

It’s a girl, another girl.  

Eurydice is still sobbing, though this time they have shifted in reason. Her finger runs over her face and head, holding her wriggling body against her. A girl. A sister for Melody, another daughter for Orpheus to love more than anything. She is much smaller than her sister had been, and looks nothing like her even in these first moments. What had been thick, dark hair on Melody were light, hazelnut wisps on her. Still, looking down at her, the fears Eurydice faced leading up to this moment are erased. Gone is the fear of being unable to love another like she did Melody, this tiny girl already reaching in and squeezing her heart in her tiny palms.  “Hi, baby girl, i’m your mama.” She whispers, her body completely relaxing into Persephone. 

She closes her eyes briefly as she relaxes her head onto Persephone’s shoulder, a relieved cry escaping her. “I did it.” Eurydice breathes out, as Persephone wraps her arms around her shoulders, her head resting ontop of hers. 

“You did it, baby.”

[ryanjdel]

Am I a Failure?

Disclaimer: Now I know I’m better off than some. But I need to let this out. This is my experience, and I know it could be worse. I know. Picture yourself in a classroom, always at the front of the class because the teacher, who has had you for six years, feels you need special attention. She constantly tries to make you go to her tutoring sessions, and insults your intelligence by telling you to move from a Higher level course to a lower level, because “you’re not cut out for it”. That was the majority of my time in school. Now it’s not like I was an idiot, nor was I going to Harvard any time soon. But I was a bright kid, in my own ways. In my Leaving Certificate year I was constantly told how I wasn’t going to pass my exams. My mental health took a dive. I started smoking. I was depressed. Among all this, life long relationships were shattering before my eyes, realising I wasn’t surrounding myself with the right people. It. Sucked. 

I ended up developing an attitude, I stopped caring about my exams, and just wanted to get by. Even through my honest lack of effort, I managed to get a high grade in my higher level English exam. I was euphoric. All I wanted to do was show my result to my teacher. Stick it in her face, show her that I could do it. I didn’t even do it for me. I did it to rub it in her face. I have resented my final year of school for many reasons. Ruined friendships. Smoking. Bad experiences with relationships, and my exams.  Though I did well, I resented my results for the past few years, mostly because all my life I was told all I needed was good exam results, and I’d be able to get in a good college, and get a job. While college wasn’t a problem. (only doing a few months of Animation, realising it wasn’t me and then going on to get a diploma in Film) But I’ve struggled to find work for years, I’ve only had ONE real job. That was doing door to door sales for PhoneWatch, a house alarm company. It was a good product. But the timing was awful. Sure, the job was hard, being out in wind rain and snow, bothering people at their homes to try get them to sign a contract.

 But I was good. I made 4 grand in my first month. But then March came, and Covid-19 started to spread through Ireland. Restrictions were put into place, but not at Phonewatch. Sure they said we can’t shake hands, but they expected us to risk our health going out knocking doors. This, coupled with the fact the virus had lead to less people opening doors out of fear of getting infected, made it so I was making no money by the end of the month. I had already passed both pay days. It was a commission only job. I did a full Months free labour in the wind, rain and snow for these soulless salesmen who didn’t give a shit about me. Sure I could have made more money through referrals. But no one got back to me. While the world was on fire,  these guys saw it as “Everyones at home, lets knock some doors.” Sure they wore fancy suits and made a few grand every month. But thats before taxes. None of them drove, and the ones who did couldnt afford fuel half the time, or their car was falling apart.

So I left, then day immediately after I quit, and handed in my badge and booklet, it was announced the whole Country was on lockdown. Shit.  Ever since I’ve been trying to find ways to get work, make money during all this craziness. But I can’t find anything. I’ve been working for my mum, cleaning and maintaining the property for my mums playschool. I hate it. I studied film, I invested in cameras and lenses, I’m trying so hard to find a way to get into the industry but I can’t. Now I see classmates of mine going on to make web-series’, working for big Youtubers/TikTok stars, even shooting for big fashion brands. While I’m still living with my parents, falling in and out of taking care of my health. Getting nothing done. Growing older, fatter and more depressed by the day. I’m in therapy now. Thankfully. But I can’t feel like everything I’ve been through, everything I’ve worked for has lead to nothing. Have I gone right back to square one? Am I a fucking loser? 

[justaghostingon]

Misunderstandings, Trauma, and How to Accidentally Fall in Love

Note: Giving this valentines Ros fic a shot

All things considered, Gyrus thought he was doing pretty well hiding his plans. He’d returned to the Room of Swords and played up the tramatised survivor, which wasn’t to hard considering it was mostly true. He told Don about the shadow kidnapping him and how he escaped, although he left out to arm and anything to do with his friends and what he has learned. Don had bought it hook line and sinker, noding his head in fake sympathy and reminding him how this was all the more reason to stay strong against the shadows. Gyrus had pretended to be greatful, nodding along like he didn’t know the man was just as bad.

He began to take more time for building inventions alone in his quarters. Using the excuse of needing solitude to work to justify locking his door and not reponding for hours. He hinted to Don his inventions were mostly defense related, in preparation for another abduction. But the truth was the moment he was alone he’d activate the arm and go check on Maria and Alistar in the base the three of them had built. There they spent their time searching for more allies and plotting how to deal with Don, the shadows, and the contract.

The others assumed his new found love of solitude was just an after effect of the captivity and didn’t push. Even Don seemed to think it was for the best to let him rest and recover. With Don’s encouragement the rest seemed to silently agree to let him work it out on his own. Everyone except for Kodya.

At first he didn’t think to much of it. Kodya was his friend and apprentice, and he’d been the last person to speak with him before he disappeared. It made sense that he harbored a bit more guilt and concern than the rest. Gyrus had tolerated his constant concerned looks and flimsy excuses to follow him around. He’d acted normal, turning down all offers of help with a grin on his lips and a lie on his tongue, confident Kodya would accept it like he always had.

Kodya didn’t push, but he also didn’t stop. If anything, he got worse. He would come up with every excuse he could think of to simply be around Gyrus, offering to train together, ‘accidentally’ running in to him in the halls, and perhaps the worst of all, always trying to convince Gyrus to let him help with Gyrus’s supposed inventions.

“I’m your apprentice,” he insisted. “I can help you.”

“Kodya I appreciate the offer, but you don’t know a thing about robotics,” Gyrus quirked an eyebrow, but kept his voice light.

“I’m a quick learner.” Kodya insisted, standing straight backed with his hands balled into fists. “You’ve said so yourself. Wouldn’t two make it easier?”

“Kodya, it’s fine,” Gyrus lightly elbowed him on the arm. “I’ve got it under control.”

“You’ve been holed up in your chambers for weeks and haven’t got anything done!” Kodya snapped, “You never take that long! You need help!”

Gyrus froze at Kodya’s sudden anger. He realized distantly that they had never fought before. One look at his face and Kodya had instantly whilted, apologizing over and over. Gyrus waved the apologies off, but worry curled in his stomach.

He waited a full hour before he next teleported out.

————————————

“I think Kodya’s on to me,” he said by way of greeting as he teleported into Maria and Ailstair’s base. Maria was the only one in the room, patching up the metal sides from a recent attack.

“Someone’s on to you?” Maria dropped the hammer she’d been using and hurried over. “How do you know?”

Ailstair popped his head around the corner. “What’s was that noise?” his eyes slid from Maria’s fallen hammer to Gyrus and lit up. “Oh Gyrus you’re back!”

“Someone’s on to Gyrus,” Maria turned her head to shout back at him. His expression grew grave as he too hurried over.

“I think you’d better start from the beginning,” he said, glancing up at Gyrus’s contract to ensure it hadn’t be altered.

So Gyrus told them everything: about how Kodya would following him around and keep an eye on him, and about the arguement where he’d realized Kodya knew he wasn’t really making technology in his room.

“Oh thats not so bad,” Maria sighed in relief as she lightly punched Gyrus, “you had me really worried!”

Gyrus winced and rubbed the spot she’d hit. “He knows I’m lying guys. If he mentions it to Don, even if its just out of concern, we are in serious trouble.”

Ailstair rubbed his chin thoughtfully, “you’re right, we really should have thought about what it would look like if you didn’t actually produce something. You should spend some time actually working on projects instead of always coming to us.”

“I do work on projects!” Gyrus objected, “just not very often.” He looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. “I haven’t really been able to finish any.”

“Well, take a bit more time then,” said Maria. “We’ve got pretty used to this realm, we can handle it ourselves. Go and build something useless to show Don and Kodya and end this whole mess,” Maria rolled her eyes and picked up her hammer. Gyrus didn’t move and she waved it at him, “Go on! You’ve got a mess to fix.”

——————————-

At first it seemed to work. Gyrus spent nearly a week barely leaving his rooms to build the single most useless device he could think of: an automatic galaxy map - a tool his ship had used calculate distances between stars and spaceships - and presented it to Kodya.

He was predictably fascinated. Gyrus felt a sudden warmth rush through him at the unadulterated joy on Kodya’s face as he turned the object around and around in his hands, pushing buttons and testing it out.

“Try the middle one,” Gyrus grinned, and Kodya nodded, pressing the large red button with his finger. The whole room lit up as Gyrus’s creation began to levitate out of Kodya’s grasp, light poring out of every inch. Holographic stars flew from the device and took their places around the room, hanging suspended in mid air. Kodya gasped as the device hovering above his hands was now a little model spaceship, designed down to the smallest detail to match Iro’s. His eyes met Gyrus’s across the little galaxy, shining so brightly that for a second Gyrus mistook them for stars.

He’d had a whole speech lined up, about how he’d uploaded Scout’s memories of the stars from Iro’s missions. How with this they could compare realms to see if they could find out where they were and get off world for help. It was an idea he’d had a few years ago but dismissed when he realized just how alien the realms were. But somehow all his planned excuses didn’t seem to matter as he watched Kodya hesitantly reach up to touch the closest star.

This is amazing,” Kodya’s voice was barely a whisper, but Gyrus heard every word. ‘And,’ he thought as he took Kodya’s hand and gently showed him how to use the holographic controls to move the ship along its journey, ‘somehow that’s all that needs to be said.’

Needless to say, everyone else had been thrilled with the invention. Even if it was, as Gyrus already knew, quite useless for actually finding out where they were. Don even congratulated him on coming up with such a clever idea to escape and seemed genuinely sympathetic towards Gyrus for what he perceived as disappointment at its failure.

Gyrus was able to go about his secret meetings freely, safe from the assumption that he was losing his touch and needed help. He simply had to present an equally useless but clever seeming device every few weeks and everyone would simply except it.

Or rather that’s how it should have been. But it seemed Kodya was not so easily deterred. Sure, he was fascinated by the objects Gyrus produced. Gyrus even made sure to show them off to Kodya first as a way to reasure him that Gyrus really was doing fine on his own. But now Kodya took another angle with his doubts.

“When was the last time you ate?” Kodya interupted Gyrus’s rant over his latest invention: suction cups useful for sticking to the side of a spaceship in flight. Gyrus frowned, because he’d really thought his explanation of why these might be important for the Room of Swords was pretty good and he’d though Kodya would actually like it. “I don’t know?” He shrugged, “when was lunch?”

“You didn’t come to lunch,” Kodya’s eyes narrowed. “And you didn’t come to breakfast or yesterday’s dinner.”

“I have snacks in my room,” Gyrus waved it away.

“No,” Kodya’s voice rose a bit in barely contained frustration. “You had snacks in your room. You brought them in a week ago and since then you’ve missed so many meals Oli’s started to think he’s done something wrong. There’s no way you have any left.”

Now Gyrus had in fact eaten last night. Ailstar had managed to con an NPC out of a resturant and had invited him to try it out. But its not like he could tell Kodya that. And even as the flimsy excuse of, “I just got carried away and lost track of time!” rolled off his tongue he could tell by the unimpressed quirk of Kodya’s eyebrow that it did him more harm than good.

——————————

“And now he told me he’s gonna bang on my door every meal so I don’t forget again.” Gyrus complained as he took a bite of the fried corn Ailstair put in front of him. “Hey, this is actually pretty good!” He gulped down a few more bites before continuing, “so I have to make sure I’m in my room every six hours. I’m not going to be able to help fight shadows or conquer other realms unless its by night.”

“Considering how long it takes to conquer a realm, time was always going to be a problem,” Maria said as she absently tore off half of her potato on a stick. “We’ve improved a lot though. You don’t need to be there for the entire campaign.”

“But it will be three entire hours where I can’t do anything! If you guys are in serious trouble, or the shadow hour starts, I’m going to be trapped in the Room of Swords unable to do anything!” Gyrus stabbed his stick viciously into another fried corn.

“Any idea what got him so worried?” Maria absently used her stick to pick at her teeth.

Gyrus sighed, “I don’t know. I thought he was fine with it after the galaxy map.” He took another bite of the fried corn, but found it had lost all its flavor.

“When you held his hand surrounded by stars?” Ailstair called over as he bustled over to their spot at the bar, signalling one of his staff to take his place waiting on customers. Gyrus rolled his eyes which made Maria quirked an eyebrow, but he didn’t bother to argue, to used to Ailstair’s antics to correct him. “What’s the trouble in paradise?”

Gyrus explained again, absently twirling the fried corn as he did to avoid having to look at Ailstair when he told him he couldn’t help. But to his surprise Ailstair laughed. “Oh that’s nothing!” He said with a grin, “you just need to prove to your Kodya that he can trust you not to die of starvation in your room.”

“And how do I do that?” Gyrus glanced up at Ailstair, eyes wide.

“By building trust of course! Spend time with him one on one outside of introducing an invention. Enough time together and he’ll be able to trust you to miss a meal once or twice for a project without having to worry about you dying if he takes his eyes off you,” he ended this explination with a wink.

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy,” Gyrus frowned down at his half eaten fried corn.

“I hate to agree with Ailstair,” Maria pulled the stick out of her mouth and tossed it in the trash, “but he’s right. You’ve got more influence than you think. Just show him your fine and he’ll ease up on all the worrying.”

Gyrus looked between Maria and Ailstair. They rarely agreed on anything. If they both thought this was the best plan then it was probably worth a shot. “Ok, I’ll give it a try. Any idea where to start?”

Ailstair’s eyes lit up. He opened his mouth but Maria lunged sideways and tackled him, shoving her hand over his mouth. “I’m sure it will come to you, you know him best after all,” she smiled in a way that was likely meant to be reassuring, but fell kind of flat from her position on the floor pinning Ailstair down.

“Mumufff,” Ailstair added from underneath her. Maria suddenly yelped and let go of his mouth as he shouted, “don’t forget to hold him in your big strong arms!”

“You licked me!” Maria shrieked. And Gyrus figured it was time to head out.

———————

The next time Kodya came to remind him of a meal, Gyrus made sure he got there first. Kodya stood with one fist raised in surprise as Gyrus opened the door. He smiled up at Kodya, who hastily dropped his fist, “Shall we go?”

Kodya nodded and the headed down the hallway together. Gyrus kept the conversation light, asking how he’d slept and what his plans for the day were. Kodya happily replied, talking about training and chores and how he was hoping to go on the next mission.

“Speaking of training,” Gyrus cut in casually as they approached the kitchen. “Would you like to do some sparing with me?”

Kodya stopped dead. “You want to train?”

Gyrus raised an eyebrow as he turned to face him, “Well yes. I know its been a while, but you are still my apprentice.” Kodya continued to stare, mouth slightly open. Gyrus began to feel he’d said something wrong. Glancing away he added, “if you’ve got other plans...”

“No!” Kodya shouted, surprised Gyrus glanced up to meet Kodya’s eyes. Kodya held his gaze firmly. “I absolutely want to train with you,” he said.

Gyrus smiled, “We’ll spar in the rock realm. does after lunch work for you?”

————————

The rock realm, as it was affectionately called, was home to a lot of rocks and little else. But it was a rock that Gyrus was looking for, so it did the trick. He found a good one eventually. It towered over the others, top smooth and flat like something large had come through and cut it in two. But most important of all, it was wide enough for two people to use it to spar.

He and Kodya climbed up and stood on opposite sides. “Ready?” Gyrus asked.

“Ready,” Kodya grinned. And the game was on.

Kodya, Gyrus noticed as he ducked under a blow, was doing really well. He’d obviously put a lot of time into training during Gyrus’s capture. ‘He’s good,’ Gyrus thought as Kodya managed to land a punch, ‘but not good enough.’ Gyrus rolled with the punch and kicked his leg out, knocking Kodya off balance and onto the ground.

“Sorry to sweep you off your feet,” Gyrus smirked down at Kodya. Kodya started, face going red. Then he scowled at the twinkle in Gyrus’s eye.

“Your not as funny as you think you are,” he said. Gyrus chuckled in disagreement and extended a hand. Kodya took it, than yanked hard, sending Gyrus tumbling down beside him.

Kodya rolled to his feet and summoned his sword. He smirked as he pointed the tip at Gyrus’s throat. “Now whose the one swept of their feet?”

Gyrus blinked, brain taking half a second to catch up with to what had just happened. The black sun was behind Kodya, causing him to appear radiant. The sword glistened and reflected the light between them, making it hard to focus. He squinted, and noticed Kodya’s face was framed in a halo of light. One eyebrow quirked up as his lips slid into a smirk. He looked so incredibly proud of his dirty trick.

Gyrus tipped back his head and laughed. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t funny, not at all. But for some reason he couldn’t help himself. Kodya lowered his sword to stare at him in confusion, before throwing back his head and laughing along.

———————

The end of their sparring session had them both lying on the rock, panting with exhaustion. A faint breeze ran over Gyrus, causing him to sigh with relief. He gazed up at the sky, absently watching the clouds above.

To his left he heard Kodya give a dry huff of laughter. “What is it?” he turned his head to look at him.

“Its nothing, just something Neph and I would do.” Kodya glanced away.

“Ohh?” Gyrus rolled on his side, expectant.

Kodya blushed and gestured to the sky. “That cloud...it looks like Don.”

Gyrus lay back down and followed his line of sight, “I’d say it looks more like a wheelchair.”

“No, no!” Kodya shook his head and pointed to the left, “not that one. That one! See his guitar?”

Gyrus frowned up at the cloud above. It did look a bit like it was holding a guitar. “His beard is coming back in.”

“Don had a beard?” Kodya glanced over at Gyrus.

“Oh yeah. Back when I first came to the Room of Swords, he had a huge one. It made him look like a wild man.”

Kodya chuckled softly and Gyrus smiled. Don had looked ridiculous when they’d first met, but Gyrus had been so relieved he hadn’t though to point it out. The smile slipped off of Gyrus’s face. He wondered how much of that friendly relief had been an act. Probably all of it.

“You ok?” Kodya’s voice cut through his thoughts. He rolled toward Gyrus, face creased with concern.

“Yeah! Yeah. I’m fine,” Gyrus glanced up at the black sun. “It’s getting late. We should head back before people start asking where we are.” He pulled himself up to his feet, and offered a hand to Kodya.

Kodya took the hand, but kept glancing at Gyrus with worry in his eyes the whole way back.

———————

Gyrus wandered down the hallways absently. Ainju and Oli had ambushed him after dinner with a whole list of broken objects that needed fixing. Oli had been to scared to bother Gyrus with it for the last month due to his slow recovery, and he’s missed too many meals and events for Ainju to ambush him. Most of them had been fairly easy to fix, but a few needed a lot more time and attention and would take more than one evening to fix. He’d left the kitchen with an apology and a promise to return tomorrow and do better at maintence from then on.

He half regreted leaving it for tomorrow, figuring a late night trapped in the kitchen would be better than wandering aimlessly through the halls. He’d promised Maria and Ailstair to spend more time in the Room of Swords to avoid suspicion, but now he was here he didn’t know what to do. He tried to remember what he’d done before, but it seemed like a lifetime ago. Probably stayed in his rooms, fighting his inner demons.

He wondered what Kodya was up to. Maybe he wasn’t busy and wouldn’t mind company. Or maybe he was hanging out with Nephthys and didn’t want to be bothered.

“...Gyrus,” his name caused him to draw up short. He glanced to the side and saw he was at the med bay. The door was open a crack, and he could hear voices coming through. He hesitated, then slipped soundlessly closer, keeping out of the line of sight of anyone inside.

“...I don’t know Neph, I really don’t.” Gyrus’s ears pricked up, that was Kodya’s voice. “It started good, really. We spared, and he kicked me to the ground a few times, and I knocked him down once too! Well, I tricked him and dragged him to the ground. But he laughed! He actually laughed! I haven’t heard him laugh once since he got back.”

A high pitched squeal came from the direction of the room, and a voice Gyrus recognized as Nephthys said, “You got him to laugh! That’s adorable! Good job Kody!”

“Yeah it kinda was,” Kodya’s voice sounded fond. Gyrus blinked. He hadn’t thought adorable would be the go to word for recovering trauma. Kodya went on, “but that’s not the point! It was great ok? But then I messed up.” He sounded almost angry.

“What happened?” Nephthys’s voice was sympathetic.

“I don’t know.” Kodya sounded frustrated. “We’d finished sparing and we were both just lying on the ground...and you know that cloud game?...The one you taught me?...I made some stupid comment about the cloud looking like Don.”

“That doesn’t seem so bad,” Nephthys said. On the otherside of the door Gyrus nodded. It really hadn’t been.

“It wasn’t a first,” Kodya replied. “He went along with it, even told me about how Don used to have a beard. But then he got really quiet. I asked what was wrong but he wouldn’t say and insisted we leave.”

“Oh Kody,” Nephthys sounded sad. Gyrus’s gut twisted. He hadn’t intended to upset Kodya.

Nephthys spoke up again, voice tentative, “I know its been hard, and he’s been really withdrawn since the kidnapping...But Kodya,” Her voice became more firm. “He’s been reaching out to you. That means something. He asked you to spar right?”

Kodya grunted in agreement.

“So he wanted to spend time with you. Not me, not Don, you.”

“But...”Kodya protested.

“No buts! Who did he show the galaxy map to first?”

“Me but...”

“And who has he shown every other invention to first? Who is it he lets drag him to meals?”

“Me...”

“That’s right! You,” Nephthys’s voice turned soft. “I know its hard when someone whose been hurt starts to withdraw, especially on loved ones. I’ve seen it before with the wounded soldiers who passed through my temple. But all you can do is be there for them Kody. It’s not gonna be overnight, he’s still gonna have relapses. But he’s trying.”

“Is that one of your feelings?” Kodya asked.

“Its a fact,” Nephthys’s voice was firm. Then in a lighter tone she added, “My feelings tell me you should just confess already!”

“Nephthys!” Kodya snapped.

“What? I’ve a feeling it will work out!” Nephthys giggled.

“We just had an entire conversation about him being traumatized! I don’t wanna give him something else to worry about!”

“Oh come on!...” Nephthys kept talking but Gyrus wasn’t listening. The conversation playing over and over in his head instead as he began to process the meaning behind the words. Guilt curdled in his gut as he slipped quietly away.

———————

“I think I messed up,” Gyrus admitted to Maria and Ailstair as he pushed his food around his plate. Ailstair and Maria exchanged a look.

“Something happen with Kodya?” Maria asked, taking out the stick she’d been chewing on.

“Yes! No? I overheard something, and it put into perspective how awful I’m being,” he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

“It can’t be that bad...” Ailstair started to say.

“Kodya’s in love with me,” Gyrus said, his voice flat. He waited for Maria and Ailstair to react, to realize what a big deal this was. But they only looked confused.

“Well yeah,” Maria raised an eyebrow. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“You knew?! All this time and...” Gyrus cut himself off, to full of emotion. He took a deep breath and continued, “He loves me, and he’s been so worried about how I’m isolating myself...and how my trauma’s affecting my health...and I’ve been leading him on! I’m letting him think I was getting better, when I’ve really just been lying to direct his attention away from what I’ve really been doing.”

Maria and Ailstair exchanged a look. Ailstair raised his hand with a sigh, “You’re oversimplifying. You did just find out someone you trusted had lied to you and everyone you knew.”

“That has nothing to do...”

“You’ve been traumatized,” Ailstair plowed on. “And you’re stuggling with opening back up to people. That isn’t a lie. Spending time with us doesn’t mean you aren’t isolating yourself from the people in the Room of Swords. He’s not worrying over nothing.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m not honest with him about why I’m spending time with him!” Gyrus snapped.

“Do you love him?” Maria asked as she leaned forward to look Gyrus directly in the eye.

Gyrus sputtered, looking anywhere but at Maria and Ailstair. “I...I” he struggled to come up with an answer, whole face burning. His first instinct was to deny it. Love wasn’t his thing, never really had been. But he though of training with Kodya, of how well they got along, of Kodya’s face when he saw the holographic stars, and of his laughter loud and joyous under the sun.

Gyrus slumped forward, forehead pressing against the cool of the bar counter. “Yes,” he whispered.

“There you go then,” Maria leaned back.

“That doesn’t change anything!” Gyrus’s head snapped up. Maria only raised an eyebrow.

“Sure it does,” Ailstair jumped in. “You spent time with him because you wanted to spend time with him.”

“And to mislead him!”

“So?” Ailstair shrugged. “Most people do things for multiple reasons. Doesn’t make any of those reasons less valid.”

“Look, Gyrus,” Maria sighed. “We aren’t saying you have to do anything with this knowledge. We’re just saying you being a couple with Kodya doesn’t get in the way of the plan. Ailstair can run a resturant, you can have a boyfriend. We’ll still defeat Don and the shadows.”

“I...” Gyrus looked between Maria and Ailstair, “I have to think about this.”

“Of course,” Maria said. Ailstair nodded in agreement.

Feeling like he was half in a dream, Gyrus teleported himself back to his room and collapsed on his bed.

He didn’t get any sleep that night.

———————

The knock on his door startled Gyrus, even though he was wide awake. His heart felt like it had tsken up gymnastics. He dragged himself to the door, each footstep echoing in his ear drums. He’d been up all night going back and forth over what to do, and he still couldn’t deside. A part of him wanted to go to Kodya and confess anything, the other wanted to push him away for fear of what Don or the shadows might do.

With no decision reached, he opened the door.

Kodya stood on the other end, and wow he looked good, had he always looked good? He probably had, Gyrus begrudgingly admitted to himself.

“You look terrible,” Kodya’s voice broke Gyrus out of his thoughts. “Did you get any sleep?”

“Ahhaha,” Gyrus ran his hand through his hair, “Not really? I just...had a lot on my mind.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Kodya offered.

Gyrus twisted his hands, “I don’t no...Suppose... suppose you had to a revelation but you didn’t know if you should act on it or not?” He stared at his boots.

Kodya was quiet for a bit. Eventually he said, “Would it make you happy?”

Gyrus hadn’t thought of that. How hadn’t he thought of that? “I think so, yeah,” he peaked up at Kodya through his bangs.

“Then do what makes you happy,” Kodya nodded, “You can sort the rest out later.”

Relief flooded through Gyrus at his words. Of course. He didn’t need to have all the answers. These things took time. It didn’t need to get figured out today.

“Hey,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “you wanna do something today? Just the two of us?”

“Like training?” Gyrus felt dissected under Kodya’s gaze.

“If you want too, or we could do anything else. Its completely up to you,” Gyrus finally met Kodya’s eyes.

Kodya smiled.

—————

Epilogue

Building inventions not what Gyrus expected Kodya to ask for. But he had promised him anything.

“Am I doing this right?” Kodya held up a half mangled circuit board.

“Not exactly, Gyrus eyed the half broken remains, but he gave Kodya a smile. “Here, let me see what we can do.” It probably wasn’t salvagable, but Kodya didn’t need to know that.

“I’m sorry,” Kodya gave him a sheepish smile, “I’m not very good at this.”

“Don’t worry about it! Its pretty complicated stuff,” Gyrus laughed as he took the circuit board from him. “Let me walk you through it one more time.”

Another explication was not going to suddenly make Kodya understand basic engineering. But Gyrus couldn’t bring himself to care. He loved talking about circuitry. And from the way Kodya looked at him, head propped on his hand and a fond smile on his lips, he like listening to it just as much as Gyrus liked talking about it.

As he launched into another lecture, Gyrus realized he finally felt happy.

[parabcllums]

⌜  TOM HARDY, CIS MALE, HE / HIM   |   charlie boy by the lumineers, melancholic, the maudlin   ⌟    ⏤   blink and you’ll miss ADRIAN STEPHANOS TREVOR, the THIRTY SEVEN year old son of DIANA PRINCE & STEVE TREVOR ! they’re an INDEPENDENT JOURNALIST & STARBUCKS BARISTA in town, and i’ve always found them to be pretty RIGHT-MINDED & MUNIFICENT, though i’ve heard that they can also be really IDIOSYNCRATIC & SELF DESTRUCTIVE. i don’t think getting their way is a smart thing to do - everyone knows that their ability is ENHANCED CONDITION. you can check out his stats HERE & his pinterest board HERE.

     wasn’t no HARM in him.              you’d give him a FLOWER, he’d keep it FOREVER.

SECTION ONE OF THREE: BULLET POINT HISTORY trigger warning for talk of gang activities ( including gbh ), prisons, the army ( including bombs, trauma sustained while serving, consequences - mentally & physically OF serving ), more gang talk… a lot of

ah , here he is . this motherfucker. what a tool.

meet ADRIAN STEPHANOS TREVOR. he’s thirty seven years old, a twin, an older brother, a disappointment son. these days, he works as a starbucks barista and writes just enough articles in a year to be able to continue calling himself an “”independent journalist”” - but once upon a midnight dreary, ya boy was an army brat, and a little more recently, he was a member of one of london’s east end gangs.

diana prince and steve trevor were GOOD PARENTS. they WERE. when steve came back to life, he was DONE with fighting, and diana never could be. they found a middle ground, in their happiness, with steve staying in london where he ultimately raised the kids they had together, and diana continuing her hero work - the official term “co parenting”, though at times, her absence was felt. but not enough to be an excuse. adrian never doubted for one moment of his life that he was LOVED, and that his parents were ALWAYS going to be there for him. the path that adrian ultimately went down is thanks to nothing more than the environment that he grew up in, and the inherited need to DO RIGHT by the people he cared about.

it wasn’t hard for him to fall in with the wrong crowd of people, when he was younger. the east end has always been home to a whole variety of types, but if you were the sort of teen that adrian was - hot headed, quicker to throw a punch than he was talk it out, pretty bright, but never willing to apply himself - you were destined to draw the WRONG sort of attention. he was rebelling, for no particular reason, and in afterschool detention, he met the people that would shape his early life. they weren’t the gang. they liked to THINK of themselves as such, but they were just kids playing pretend - they walked the walk and they talked big but they weren’t QUITE there, but there enough that adrian got himself in to quite a bit of trouble.

he thought the world of them. this small squad of kids all around his age became like FAMILY, and he was willing to do anything, or go anywhere, if it meant keeping them in his eyes on them and maybe, keeping them out of trouble. to this day, he’ll say that’s how it started - he just wanted to keep his FRIENDS out of trouble. they were already in so much of it. how that led to destruction of property, petty vandalism, THE GREVIOUS BODILY HARM THAT GOT THEM ALL ARRESTED, no one really knows. likewise, to this day, no one from that gang of schoolkids has ever broken their silence on who exactly did the DAMAGE to that guy that pressed charges after being beaten half to death. it had to be one of them, but the police thought it was all of ‘em. when no one would reveal the truth, adrian and his “friends” all faced the same punishment. TWO YEARS, in her majesty’s prison woodhill - a young offenders institution willing to accept kids younger than eighteen, where adrian was to spend the latter half of his fifteenth year, his full sixteenth, and three months of his seventeenth.

loyalty to his troubled friends, all the better off for being locked behind bars, had gotten adrian stuck in the same situation. but loyalty, he learned in his time at woodhill, was currency. it was the difference between life or death.

it made sense, then - at least in HIS EYES - to join the british army. before his fall from grace, he had been seriously discussing the army cadets with steve. he’d kept in shape, had learnt some control over himself, and felt like that was where he BELONGED, upon release. before he knew it, he was EIGHTEEN years old and shipping out - and maybe it’s not right to say, but the army was probably the best place for him. for the next eight years, he did tours on and off, spending minimal time back home. sometimes, the only reason he even came back was for theora. and it was GOOD for him. it kept him off the streets. it kept him away from his old friends, and kept him from making new, worse ones. he had the routine that the young offenders institution had taught him. he had a place. a role. a reason, to keep getting up. by the time he was twenty seven, he was on the fast track to being someone BETTER -

his career came to a sudden end when the jeep that he and his team were driving in ran over a mine. he was one of an unlucky few - without his enhanced condition, he would have joined the rest in the AFTERLIFE. HE SURVIVED, but muscle and nerve damage meant that he lost the full use of his right leg, and maybe they would have given him a chance to try and improve, but no doctor was going to clear him for service again, thanks to the additional traumatic brain injury sustained. he was in a coma for a week. when he woke up… his general cognitive function was sure never to return to where it once was. he IMPROVED. he worked on it, in vain, hoping that he could still go back. but his memory was always going to be impaired. his brain was always going to be shot.

he was honorably discharged and he returned to the east end, a self professed failure.it only got worse. he wasn’t getting out of the house. he wasn’t taking visitors. diana and steve, theora, they could only do so much - and when he started to go down to the local, again, they thought that it was GOOD, that he was starting to come back to himself a bit. the truth was, he was back in contact with old friends. he was rubbing shoulders with the WRONG sort of people. he was getting himself INTO TROUBLE, again - putting himself into a difficult position of starting down the same path that had landed him in the youth institute, years before.

and then he got MARRIED. he never even told his mother. he had never thought of this particular old friend in that way until he DID, and he needed SOMEONE - ANYONE, back then, to latch onto. looking back, it was unfair. she was in a position of having to care for him, and deal with his WORST moods, which no one should have been in. but they convinced themselves it was love. they convinced themselves, in spite of the arguing, that they BELONGED together - right up until they couldn’t DO it anymore.

he self medicated, after. he stopped trying to get BETTER. and he WALLOWED. the only person he truly had anymore, he felt, was his TWIN - but it was UNFAIR to rely on them, so much. adrian’s darkest impulses at this point in his life were almost impossible not to listen to, and in a way, he got LUCKY.

a light at the end of the tunnel appeared, when the news came of the BABY. HIS. the product of a brief liaison with a sharp tongued lady that had swept him off HIS feet - he was an AFTERTHOUGHT, the text from a forgotten number that told him about their SON told him that much. but he would have done more, if he’d known. he told himself that, over and over, as he tried to work out what to do - and after a lot of uhmng and ahing, he decided that the RIGHT thing to do, the ONLY thing, was to leave for america hot on her heels. it wasn’t IDEAL. but being in a new country, trying to put himself onto some sort of straight and narrow so that he could BE a dad… it gave him hope that at the end of the day, maybe he could dig himself out of the mess that he had made out of his life.

he got a job. he’d already started working as an independent journalist in england, another way to pay the bills, but he got another - and he got CLEAN. no more drugs, even if he was still as much of an alcoholic as ever. he tried to be better, for his kid, the ACCIDENT that he LOVED, before he even met him - and because if he could do it, if he could make himself better, then maybe he could still get out. maybe he could create a safety net to fall into, if he finally cut ties.

SECTION TWO OF THREE: HEADCANONS

how to tell that underneath all his bad decisions he’s still actually a GOOD guy? his love of dogs. that’s it. he’s had a cool dozen over his entire life, but right now, he has THREE. paddy, his nine year old staffie x, dingle, his five year old irish wolfhound, and nessie, his six month old aussiedoodle. they’re all rescues, and they’re all.. so loved. he’s lowkey using them as therapy dogs without any sort of official therapy dog training cos why the fuck not.

he can’t concentrate as well as he used to be able to. he struggles to see how some actions he makes will have consequences. he speaks too low. he doesn’t always understand what’s being said to him, or what he’s saying. he doesn’t perceive things the same anymore, like certain tastes. he doesn’t catch the gist of certain patterns and things and struggles to interpret certain data correctly, sometimes. he doesn’t have great depth perception. he’s more susceptible to bouts of severe depression and irritability, he suffers from a severe sleep disorder, he’s not great with loud noises, he still walks with a incredibly pronounced limp, and he suffers chronic pain. he didn’t leave the army unscathed.

i cant believe thats all i got but its all i got.

SECTION THREE OF THREE: WANTED CONNECTIONS

his older sib ! his younger one ! the mother of his child ! all good connects ! 

friends from london.

friends he’s made since moving here.

someone please fucking hire him he’s a good gd bartender i dont even rmbr why i made him a barista but someone ,,pls,, get him out of that gd job

also SOMEONE please give his ass a platform… read his writing..he’s good…..hire him

ENEMIES ! from anywhere. for any reason. mayb they fought once. maybe he wrote the wrong name on their starbucks cup. go wild , the world is your oyster

justice league kids … literally any kids he could have grown up w like i dont think he was ALWAYS in england so … give him those #connections

gang connections ! if ur character is in a us based gang its always a possibility that they have a sort of .. brotherhood.. whatever u call that with the east end one that adrian is stuck in , so , hmu

also , army ppl. they could have served together. maybe.

army ppl he def didnt serve with but who he.. is..jealous of

or who he wants to help if theyve got it #rough cos yeah he’s been there

lit just…….plot..w.him

[greedler]

Our copypastas

i cant believe that @fashion police just vored a bug

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Boy, do I love truffula trees. Sometimes, when I’m home alone, I’ll chop down a tree and rub the leaves in my scalp. It doesn’t do much for my hair health, but I like the way they feel running through my strands of hair. The softness, texture, and warmth. Yum

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Hello, everybody. Thanks for coming. I am the Lorax. I speak for the trees. And I'd like to say a few words, if you please. Regarding the story that you're about to see it actually happened. Just take it from me. But there's more to this story than what's on the page, so please pay attention while I set the stage. We open in Thneedville, a city they say that was plastic and fake, and they liked it that way! A town without nature, not one living tree. So, what happened to them? Cue the music! Let's see. Buzz. Buzz. In Thneedville, it's a brand new dawn With brand new cars and houses and lawns Here in Got-all-that-we-need-ville In Thneedville, we manufacture our trees Each one is made in factories And uses 96 batteries In Thneedville, the air's not so clean So we buy it fresh It comes out this machine! In Satisfaction's- guaranteed-ville In Thneedville, we don't want to know Where the smog and trash and chemicals go I just went swimming, and now I glow In Thneedville, we have fun year round We surf and snowboard right in town We thank the Lord for all we've got Including this brand new parking lot! Parking lot! Oh, look, it's Aloysius O'Hare Aloysius O'Hare The man who found a way to sell air And became a zillionaire Hip-hip-hooray! In Thneedville, we love living this way It's like living in paradise It's perfect! And that's how it will stay Oh, yeah! Here in Love-the-life-we-lead-ville Destined-to-succeed-ville We-are-all-agreed-ville We love it here in... Thneedville! Yes! Oh, hi, Ted. Oh, hey, Audrey. Hi. Did your ball land in my backyard again? What? No. A model airplane, this time. Hey, do you want to see something cool? Come on. Whoa! Did you... Did you paint this? Do you like it? What? Are you kidding? This is amazing! What are those? Those are trees. Real ones. They used to grow all around here. And people said that the touch of their tufts was softer than anything, even silk. And they smelled like butterfly milk! Wow! What does that even mean? I know, right? Oh, yeah. What I want more than anything in the whole world is to see a real living tree growing in my backyard. So if, say... I'm just thinking out loud here. If a guy somehow got you one... I'd probably marry him on the spot. I bet that sounds crazy. Does that sound crazy? No! Not crazy. Not crazy at all. Ted, honey, don't play with your food. You, either, Mom. So, Mom, do you happen to know if there's any place where I could get a real tree? Ted, we already have a tree. It's the latest model. Yeah, but I mean a real one that grows out of the ground or whatever. You know, a real tree. Really? You would rather have some dirty, messy lump of wood that just sticks out of the ground? And it does what? I don't even know what it does. What's its purpose? Look at what we've got. It's the Oak-amatic. The only tree with its own remote. Summer, autumn, winter, and disco! Mom? Come on, Ted. Get into it. Dance with the tree. Oh, it hurts, Mom. Please stop. So, anyway... Let's just say I need a tree. Where would I go? What do I do? Then you know what? You need to find the Once-ler. The what? Mom, it's not really the time for one of your magical fables, okay? That's right, I forgot. I'm old and can't even remember to put my teeth in. Stand down. That's not what I meant. No, really, I forgot my teeth. Would you be a dear and go get them for me? Sure, Mom. Okay, here's the deal. The Once-ler is the man who knows what happened to the trees. You want one, you need to find him. The Once-ler? Mmm-hmm. Okay. Grammy, is this a real thing that we're talking about now? Oh, he's real all right. Well, where can I find him? Far outside of town where the grass never grows and the wind smells slow and sour when it blows. And no birds ever sing, excepting old crows. Quit doing that. That's the place where the Once-ler lives. Wait, outside of town? People used to say if you brought him 15 cents, a nail and the shell of a great, great, great grandfather snail, he would tell you everything. Hmm. Mr. O'Hare, what we've got for you is something that is going to take O'Hare Air to the next level. Now, Mr. O'Hare, I know what you're thinking. One, " I've gotten rich selling people air that's "fresher than the stinky stuff outside. " Two, and here is the important one, "How can I possibly make even more money?" We can tell you, sir! We can tell you. Check out this commercial, huh? Well, here goes another lame Saturday. Dude, I don't think so! Huh! Hey! Man! Oh, yeah! What! Yeah! O'Hare purified air. Freshness to go. Please breathe responsibly. Ah? Oh, my goodness. Yeah! Love it. You got to be kidding me. You really think people are stupid enough to buy this? Our research shows that if you put something in a plastic bottle, people will buy it. Exactly. And... And what's more, when we build a new factory to make the plastic bottles, the air quality is just going to get worse. Which will make people want our air even more, and drive sales where? Through the roof! So, in other words, the more smog in the sky, The more people will buy. See, that's why he's the genius! It even rhymes! I'm aware it rhymes. Coats. Big. What do you two knuckleheads want? I'm in the middle of a meeting! What? Why is he leaving town? No one ever leaves town! See what he's up to. Whoa! Huh? Whoa! Whoa. Oh, man. Whoa! All right. Okay. What the... Whoa! Who are you? Who are you and what are you doing here? I'm Ted. I'm Ted. I can't breathe. Are you the Once-ler? Oh, man. Didn't you read the signs? No one is supposed to come here. Get out of here and leave me alone! And don't let the boot hit you on the way out. The boot? Hello! Ow! Listen! People say that if someone brings you this stuff that you will tell them about trees. No, no, no! Trees? Yeah, real ones. You know, that grow out of the ground? Hello? Sorry, it's just... Well, I didn't think anyone still cared about trees. Well, that's me. The guy who still cares. I'm here. Hey! What? Do you want to know about trees? About what happened to them? Why they're all gone? It's because of me. Wait, what? It's because of me! And my invention, the Thneed. It was an amazing product that could do the job of a thousand. All right. Sounds ridiculous, but I mean, that's cool. You're darn right it was cool! It all started a long time ago. Can we start not so long ago, maybe? Do you want a tree? Yes, yes. Then it all started a long, long time ago. I was a young man leaving home. Well, here I go, Mom. Off to change the world with my Thneed. I'm actually doing it! Yes, but just remember, Oncie, if somehow your invention ends up a failure instead of a success, oh, it wouldn't surprise me at all! Nice wheels. Burn! Ow! Yeah, "Burn!" But you will see, okay? I'm going to prove you all wrong. Come on, Melvin! So, there I was at the very bottom. With nothing but a wagon, a mule, and a completely irrational sense of optimism. I was searching the globe, obsessed with finding the perfect material for my Thneed. But I'd had absolutely no success. Until one day, I found paradise. Oh! We're going to be there soon, I'm sure. Whoa! This is the most beautiful place, okay, I have ever seen. Oh. Ta-da! Whoa! Yeah This is it This is the place These Truffula trees are just what I need Gonna chop one down and make my Thneed But first... Now you! That's great! So now our friendship can begin Hand in hand, and wing and fin There's nothing you and I can't do So let's all make my dreams come true Hey, guys! Come on, where is my back-up chorus? What? Ah-ha! Oh. Ooh! Hey, hey, wait. Wait a minute. Excuse me? Yeah, that's awesome. Feeding junk food to forest animals? That's great. But, uh, is there a musical number where you show me how to get a tree? Because I would love to hear that one. Oh, yes. Right after the musical number about the kid who kept interrupting the story, and was never heard from again. Right, got it. Proceed. All right, here we go. About to make a Thneed, about to change the world. Check it out, guys... Where did everybody go? Little did I know that by chopping down that tree I had just summoned a mystical creature as old as time itself. The legendary, slightly annoying guardian of the forest. The Lorax. Hey! Whoo! Did you chop down this tree? Uh... No. Who did it? What's that? I think he did it. Leave! Vacate the premises! Take your ax and get out! And who are you? I'm the Lorax! Guardian of the forest. I speak for the trees. So you're telling me, you just didn't see me magically appear out of that stump? With all the lightning and thunder and stuff. You didn't see any of that? No, but that sounds amazing. Can I see some of that? Uh, yeah, I could show you. But that's not how it works. Okay. Um... Didn't really happen. Oh, I know what you want! I've got one of these for the cutest little guy I ever saw! Yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy... How dare you! Give me that! Mmm. I'm going to eat this, but I am highly offended by it. What are you... Hey, Mustache! Will you stop that? What's your deal, man? Time for you to go, Beanpole! Pull them right out. Just going to put them right back in. We can do this all day. Stop right there! Stop it! So you would hammer one of nature's innocent creatures? What? No! I would never hit this little guy. You, on the other hand, I would gladly pound you and your mustache into the ground! Behold! The intruder and his violent ways. Shame on you. For shame! All right, you know what? That's it! You listen to me, you furry meatloaf. I'm going to chop down as many trees as I need. Okay? Newsflash! Not going anywhere! End of story. Then you leave me no choice. If you're not gone by the time the sun sets on this valley, all the forces of nature will be unleashed upon you and curse you until the end of your days! You have been warned. Thanks. Yeah, okay. You have been warned. But I didn't listen to his warning. And you won't believe what happened that night. What? If you want to hear more, come back tomorrow. Hey, wait, wait! Tomorrow? Whoa! Whoa-ho-ho. Are you serious right now? Ah! You live in the middle of nowhere! It stinks out here. Don't make me come back! I guess you don't really want to hear the rest of the story. No, no. I do. I really do. I want to hear the story. I just... Nah! You don't have what it takes. Goodbye. Wait, wait! I have what it takes. It's all right. It's okay, I'll come back. It's no problem. See, here I am, leaving. Walking away now. I'll see you tomorrow. Mmm. Maybe. Just maybe. What did you wish for, Audrey? Well, I would love to tell you, but, sadly, according to the universal wish laws, I cannot. I know what she wished for. Was it, perhaps... This? Ted, you didn't. Oh, no. I totally did. Happy birthday, Audrey. Kiss him! Kiss him! Ted. Ted. Tedster. Huh! You're kissing the cereal again, hon. What? I just... I like this cereal. What one is this? Yeah! Okay. Well, I'll make sure to buy extra next time for you. All right, cool. Hey, I got to run. I got to go do a thing. So, I'll see you guys. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! You're not going anywhere, young man. It's Sunday. You know what that means? Family time, and we're all playing board games! But... Hmm. Mmm? Oh, man. Mom, seriously, every turn? Hey, back off! Ooh! No. Okay! Family time is over. It is now personal time. I'll be in my room. Okay, dear. Have fun. I knew I could break her. Go. Huh? Go see him! Oh, yeah! You rule! Thank you, Grammy. Whoa! Hey! Ted, right? Um, Mr. O'Hare? So, I hear you have become interested in trees. What's that all about? Oh. Um... Where did you hear that? Oh. Teddy, there's not much that goes on in Thneedville that I don't know about. Here's the deal, I make a living selling fresh air to people. Trees? They make it for free. So, when I hear people talking about them, I consider it kind of a threat to my business. I don't even know what you're talking about. You listen to me, boy. Don't go poking around in things you don't understand or I'll be your worst nightmare. I'm Frankenstein's head on a spider's body! Yeah, um... Okay, my mom is expecting me. So, I'm just going to... Of course, of course. Now, go back to your family game time. Grandma just finished her turn. How did you know? Please. I have eyes everywhere. Huh! You got a beautiful town here, Ted. Lots of fun stuff to occupy your short attention span. Why, I can't think of any reason you would ever want to go outside of town again. Ever. Okay! Good talk. Really good talk. Oh, no. Look out! Hey, man? You know, you need to change that door bell. Oh, you missed me. What? You're already back. Clearly, you missed me a little. Right? No, I didn't. I'm just here to hear the end of the story. Why are you so interested in trees anyway? Why aren't you like other kids, break dancing and wearing bell-bottoms, and playing the Donkey Kongs? Yeah, right, right. I don't know. Uh, I just thought it would be kind of cool to have one, you know? Huh? It's a girl, isn't it? What? No! Really? Because when a guy does something stupid once, well, that's because he's a guy. But if he does the same stupid thing twice, it's usually to impress some girl. Hey, she is not some girl! She's a woman, in high school. And she loves trees. And I'm going to get her one. Aw! How nice to see someone so undeterred by things like reality. Thank you. All right, but where did we leave off? Now that's a Thneed. Nothing unmanly about knitting. No, sir. Look at that... Oh! Who taught you guys how to steal a bed? Shh! Okay, nice and easy. Nice work, you guys. Couldn't have done it without you. You got to be kidding me. Can he swim? Of course he can't swim! Hang on, Pipsqueak! I'm coming to get you! Hey, you fishies! Stop that bed! Whoo! Whoo! Jump, jump! Come on, get up there. Come on. Go, go! A little bit more! A little bit more! Now what? Mmm-mmm. Get up there. Okay, Pipsqueak, give me your hand. Come on, reach out for the Lorax. Where did you go? Bar-ba-loots. Oh, that's bad. Hey, Beanpole, wake up! What's happening? Where am I? Hey! We got trouble, and it's coming up fast! Whoo! We're in a river! Whew! Oh, no. Just do something! Help is on the way! No, no! Just a minute! Oh, no! Wake up! Wake up! Yuck! Clear! Ah! I was heading into the light, and you pulled me right back and here I am! You saved my life! Yeah, I know. Well, no, it's not that big a deal. It is a big deal! Look, I almost went over that waterfall! Wait... On my bed. How did my bed get in the river? Uh... About that... Actually... I put your bed in the water. I didn't mean you any harm. I just wanted to calmly float you away. Look, everyone here needs the trees and you're chopping them down! So, we've got a big problem. All right, look. I hereby swear that I will never chop down another tree. I promise. Thank you. But I'm going to keep my eye on you. Good. Now, I've got a big day tomorrow so I'm going to get some sleep. Right after I find my bed. Ow! Okay, what are you... Question, what are they doing here? And follow up, if I may, what are you doing here? Well, after the incident last night, we found one of your socks and came here to return it. But when we got here, you were asleep. What? Ew! Exactly. And sleeping is the body's way of telling other people to go away. I know, but you looked so cozy. And it was cold outside, and we just fell asleep. No harm done. "No harm done"? "No harm done"? Okay. Okay, I put my lips on those. Well, I used to, anyway. Ew. Did you just... In my bowl! Why do you have one of these? You don't even have a mustache. Okay, that's it! What? I thought we made a deal last night. Yes, we did. And I said I wouldn't chop down any more trees. And I said I was going to keep an eye on you. I'm starving. What's for breakfast? Breakfast is overrated. You know what? I got work to do. Yeah. I got to go into town and sell my Thneed. You chopped down one of my trees to make that piece of garbage? Look at that... "Garbage"? Oh, no. Oh, no! You do not get it. This is a revolutionary product that will change the world as we know it. It has a million uses! Look at this. It's a swimsuit! Mud tracked all over your floor by uninvited guests? Well, the Thneed sure comes in handy for that! But wait, there's more! Thanks to its all-natural microfibers, the Thneed is super-absorbent! It also works as a hat. Of course, you probably want to wring it out first. Go ahead, knock yourself out. But nobody is going to buy that thing. Good to know. Well, fortunately, you are not the target market, weirdo. You're bringing a guitar? Oh, yeah. I got a little jingle. I'm gonna blow some minds, gonna sell some Thneeds! Yeah. Everybody needs a Thneed A fine thing that all people... Sit down, go on. Unfortunately, I didn't sell it the first day. The Thneed is good The Thneed is great... Hey! Or the second day. Hey! Or the third, or fourth, or fifth day. Okay, that one hit the tender spot. Until finally... That's it! You know what? I'm done with this thing. Aw. My family was right. I quit! Hey. Cool hat. Oh, my gosh! I totally want one. That thing makes me like you more. Hey! Where's your Thneed, did you sell it? Hey. No, no. Didn't sell it. Turns out, it's ahead of its time, I guess. Hey, you gave it your best shot. Right? What more can you do? Come on, take a seat, we'll deal you in. What are we playing? I'm playing poker. He's playing Go Fish. And I think he's hungry. Oh. Pancake, the pancake Up! Who is up for ninths? Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Whoa! All right, pass them over. Yeah, see? What's going on? Oh, no. That's a lot of people. Everybody needs a Thneed A fine thing that all people need The Thneed is good The Thneed is great Let's hope we're not too late It's a super trendy hat It's a tightrope for an acrobat A net for catching butterflies A thing we use for exercise Everybody needs a Thneed A fine thing that all people need Everybody needs a Thneed Oh, yeah! We're in business, baby! We need a Thneed Mom? Hey, it's me! I told you I was going to be a success! You need to bring the whole family here right now. We're going to be rich! What? I'm going to need all the help I can get. Don't worry. So, has he told you how to get a tree yet? Actually, no. But I think he's going to get to that part really soon. Here we are. What? I'll just be a minute. Oh, wow. Hey, Audrey! Oh, hi, Ted! What's up? You know me, just cruising. Putting out the vibe. Just me and my thoughts. Oh, is this the girl you're always talking about? Grandma! Stop making things up. She's even prettier than... Okay, got to run! Bye. Okay, Grammy, let's get you home! Yeah! Whoa! I'm so sorry. So sorry. Did not wanna see that. Whoa! Whoa! Whoa-ho-ho! Hey! Hey, I'm back. What have you got there? Yes! Whoa! Thank you, Ted. Now, picture this. Sun shining, a blue sky, a perfect day. It was all downhill from there. Whoa! What a dump. Hey, Aunt Grizelda! Hey, Chet, check this out! Go long! No, Brett, that's actually not a... Okay. Go long! Go long! I got it! I got it! Got it! He totally ran into that tree! Ow! Oncie, is that you? Mom! There he is! There's my big, suddenly successful son! We always knew you would make it, Oncie. Right? Hey! I love this guy! But you always said I wouldn't amount to anything, remember? Hush your mouth. I was just trying to motivate you! I am really glad that you clarified that because it actually hurt my feelings for a really long time. Anyway, you're all here, you all work for me, and that's cool. So, let's get to work. Brett, Chet, set up the RV! Would you stop throwing that bear? Time out. Back up. Stop. Don't move an inch. Nobody's moving in here. You got to go. Goodbye. So, who invited the giant, furry peanut? You calling me a peanut, huh? I'll go right up your nose! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! You wouldn't hit a woman. That's a woman? Okay. Everyone, cool it. Let's not get off on the wrong foot here. Um, family, this is my friend... Acquaintance. Yeah, acquaintance. Very good acquaintance, the Lorax. He speaks for the trees. That's right. And on behalf of the trees, get out! Will you just be nice! This is my family. And I'm going to need their help if my company is going to get bigger. Okay? Bigger? Yeah, this isn't some rinky-dink operation anymore. I got plans. Big plans! A vision of a world filled with Thneeds. It's going to be huge! Which way does a tree fall? Uh, down? A tree falls the way it leans. Be careful which way you lean. I mean, look at this. It's amazing. I am so proud of me. Oncie, we've got us a little problem. Problem? Mmm-hmm. See, we're not making Thneeds fast enough. Harvesting the tufts takes too long! Well, what else can we do? Well, and this just came to me, we could always start chopping down the trees. What? Now you're thinking. That would speed things up! But... No "but" s, Oncie. You're running a business now. You have to do what's best for the company, and your momma. Well, I guess it couldn't hurt to chop down a few trees. You've made me so proud, Oncie. Come here! Hey! I love this guy! No! No, no, no! Stop it! Please, stop. Take that, you stupid tree! Where do you think you're going? Excuse me, sir. I need to talk with your boss. Oh, I'm sorry, but Mr. Once-ler's not seeing anyone right now. Yeah, well, he'll see me. So... Hey, keep your paws off me! Give me a reason, Shorty. Hey, you broke your promise. You're better than this. You gotta stop! This is bad! Have a nice day! Bad? I'm not bad, I'm the good guy here. He just doesn't get it. Do you think I'm bad? Thank you! I mean, something good finally happens to me, and he just has to come along and rain on my parade. What's his problem? See? Yeah, bad! Right. How bad can I be? I'm just doin' what comes naturally How bad can I be? I'm just following my destiny How bad can I be? I'm just doin' what comes naturally How bad can I be? How bad can I possibly be? Well, there's a principle in nature Principle in nature That almost every creature knows Called survival of the fittest Survival of the fittest And check it, this is how it goes The animal that wins gotta scratch and fight And claw and bite and punch And the animal that doesn't Well, the animal that doesn't Winds up someone else's La-la-la-la lunch Munch, munch, munch, munch, munch I'm just sayin' How bad can I be? I'm just doin' what comes naturally How bad can I be? I'm just following my destiny How bad can I be? I'm just doin' what comes naturally How bad can I be? How bad can I possibly be? There's a principle in business Principle in business That everybody knows is sound It says the people with the money People with the money Make this ever-loving world go round So I'm biggering my company I'm biggering my factory I'm biggering my corporate sign Bigger, bigger! Everybody out there You take care of yours I'll take care of mine-mine-mine-mine-mine Shake that bottom line Let me hear you say Smogulous Smoke! Smogulous Smoke! Schloppity-Schlopp! Complain all you want It's never, ever, ever, ever gonna stop Stop! Come on, how bad can I possibly be? How bad can I be? I'm just building the economy How bad can I be? Just look at me petting this puppy How bad can I be? A portion of proceeds goes to charity How bad can I be? How bad could I possibly be? Let's see! All the customers are buying And the money's multiplying And the PR people are lying And the lawyers are denying Who cares if a few trees are dying? This is all so gratifying! How bad? How bad can this possibly be? So, how are things? What are you doing here? Happy yet? You fill that hole deep down inside you? Or do you still need more? Look, if you've got a problem with what I'm doing, why haven't you used your quote-unquote powers to stop me? I told you, that's not how it works. Right, I forgot. You're a fraud. I need you to get out. Now! Why? Do I make you uncomfortable? Remind you of the promises you made? The man you used to be? You know what? You can just shut your mustache. My conscience is clear. I have done nothing illegal. I have my rights, and I intend to keep on biggering and biggering, and turning more Truffula trees into Thneeds. And nothing is going to stop me! Well, that's it. The very last one. That may stop you. Somebody sure made a bundle on that thing. I wonder what the next million dollar invention's going to be. Yeah, I wonder... Son, you have let me down. Brett, you are now my favorite child. Hey, look, I don't want any trouble. And you won't get any. Not from them. Thanks to you and your hacking, and smogging and glupping, they can't live here anymore. So, I'm sending them off. Hopefully, they'll be able to find a better place out there somewhere. Melvin? Melvin... Hey, Pipsqueak... Hey... So, this is really all your fault. You destroyed everything. Yes. And each day since the Lorax left, I've sat here regretting everything I've done, staring at that word, "unless," and wondering what it meant. But now I'm thinking... Well, maybe you're the reason the Lorax left that word there. Me? Why would he leave that for me? Because unless someone like you cares a whole awful lot, nothing is going to get better. It's not. The last Truffula seed. You need to plant it, Ted. Yeah, but, nobody cares about trees anymore. Then make them care. Plant the seed in the middle of town, where everyone can see. Change the way things are. I know it may seem small and insignificant, but it's not about what it is, it's about what it can become. That's not just a seed, any more than you're just a boy. I won't let you down. I know. Hey, Audrey! Audrey! Ted? What are you doing? Meet me at my house. Wait, but... My house, okay? Got to plant the seed. Okay, we're going to need water. And uh, something to dig with. Um, what do I have... Ted? Mom, I'm busy, Mom. Theodore Wiggins, get down here right now, and I am not kidding with you! Ted, I would like you to meet Mr. O'Hare, the most powerful man in town. There he is! Hello, Ted. Uh... Hi. Isn't he clever, Mr. O'Hare? He knows his own name and everything. You know what I would love right now, Mrs. Wiggins? A delicious cookie. Wonderful. Teddy and I'll stay here and talk. Sure, why don't you go ahead and adopt him? I'm just kidding. That was a joke. I was just joking. I'll get your cookie. I know you have it, Ted. So, let's put an end to this nonsense, shall we? Hand it over. I'm sorry... I don't know what you're talking about. Really? Well, then... I guess you wouldn't mind us checking your room. No, no, no! Morty! McGurk! Find the seed! No, you can't go up there! Guys, this is ridiculous. Stop! Hey! No, you can't come in my room! Find it! Find it! What is going on here? This doesn't involve you! Get back downstairs! Excuse me, down there! I don't care who you are, you little crazy baby-man! Get out of my house now. This is outrageous. Fine. Sorry. Must have been a misunderstanding. We'll be leaving now. And my apologies, Ted. You be safe. Mind telling me what's going on here? The seed! Where is it? Seed? Where's Grammy? It's alive! I remember you. Ted, what... Audrey! Hey, did you want to... Well, okay! Ted, what is this about? It's about this. Wait, wait, wait. Is that... Yes. The last Truffula seed. And you're going to help me plant it right in the middle of town where everyone can see it. I could just kiss you right now! We don't have time for that. I don't know, we have a little time. But, you know what, let's just go. Let's go. Forget about it. Maniac! Hey! Ah! Here it comes! I'm going for it. Oh, hello! Ted, big scary blimp coming. Whoa! You won't get away with this, boy! Bam! Go faster, you idiot! Yeah! Step on it, Ted! Whoa! You're fired! Whoa! Ted, look out! Nobody beats Aloysius O... Ted... This is not good. How's it doing? Whoa-ho-ho! Loser! Oh, really? Oh, no. The seed! Get that seed! Hang on! Here we go! Grammy! Seriously, how cool is your grandma? No! Come on! Yeah, that's right. There it is! Hey! Watch the road, you meathead! Ah! Hey, ow, ow! Oh, come on! What the... Get it unstuck, get it unstuck! Bring it on, Teddy! You don't have the guts! Ted! Grammy! Whoo-hoo! Yes! Hey, hey, hey! Hey! It's Mr. O... Take that, shorty! Okay, we have to get this in the ground. But where? There's no dirt anywhere. No, Grammy... Hey, get out of there! Ah! Hey! What? See, what did I tell you? Easy. Huh? Hey, they broke O'Hare's head! What do you think you're doing, kid? Um, I'm looking for a place to plant a tree. A real one. Why would we need a tree? Exactly. Oh, man. Folks... The last thing you want around here is trees. They're filthy! Spewing that sticky, nasty sap all over the place. They bring poisonous ants and stinging bees. Hey! Ouch. Think about the kids. And, I just thought, you know, they make leaves! You know that, right? Then these leaves, they just fall. They just fall wherever they want! Come on! We know why you're really against trees. Because they produce fresh air. For free! Oh! I am wounded! You have lied! It is not a lie! It's called photosynthesis. Come on. She's making that up! That's a made-up word, people! Thneedville is perfect just the way it is. We don't need trees! That boy has a seed. We need to stop him! Who's with me? Come on! O'Hare is right! Seeds will ruin us all! Stop it! Last chance, kid. Hand it over! Where do you think you're going? Come on, let's go! Get in, get in! Hey! Stop that maniac! Excuse me, excuse me. Watch out! Ted, you're going to hit the wall! Yeah. I know. Wow. Did you see that? Who does this kid think he is, huh? I am Ted Wiggins. And I speak for the trees. And the fact is, things aren't perfect here in Thneedville. And they're only going to get worse, unless we do something about it, unless we change our ways. And we can start by planting this! Okay. Come on, now. Everything is fine. Right? I say we tell this kid what we think about that seed! People, come on! You! Get out there right now and get these people on my side, or else you're fired! Go on, tell them what you think. You don't know me, but my name's Cy I'm just the O'Hare delivery guy But it seems like trees might be worth a try So I say let it grow My name is Dan And my name's Rose Our son Wesley kind of glows And that's not good, so we suppose We should let it grow Let it grow, let it grow You can't reap what you don't sow Plant a seed inside the Earth Just one way to know its worth Let's celebrate the world's rebirth We say let it grow My name's Marie, and I am three! I would really like to see a tree I say let it grow I'm Grammy Norma I'm old, and I've got gray hair But I remember when trees were everywhere And no one had to pay for air So I say let it grow Let it grow, let it grow Like it did so long ago It is just one tiny seed But it's all we really need It's time to change the life we lead Time to let it grow My name's O'Hare, I'm one of you I live here in Thneedville, too The things you say just might be true It could be time to start anew And maybe change my point of view Nah! I say let it die! Let it die, let it die Let it shrivel up and... Come on, who's with me? Nobody. You greedy dirt-bag! Let it grow, let it grow Let the love inside you show Plant a seed inside the Earth Just one way to know its worth Let's celebrate the world's rebirth We say let it grow Let it grow, let it grow You can't reap what you don't sow It's just one tiny seed But it's all we really need It's time to banish all your greed Imagine Thneedville flowered and treed Let this be our solemn creed Thank you, Ted. We say let it grow In Thneedville We say let it grow It's a brand new dawn We say let it grow In Thneedville We say let it grow It's a brand new dawn You done good, Beanpole. You done good. By the way, nice mustache.

[notthetoothfairy]

He’s Got You High

For @a-simple-rainbow. ♥♥♥

She wanted something based on this post: Kurt sends an email to his TA while high on pain meds after a wisdom teeth extraction.

read on AO3

Blaine is in the middle of his theatre history class when his phone signals a new email in his inbox. Discreetly hiding the phone from his instructor’s view by keeping his hands behind a stack of textbooks on his desk, he goes to his email folder and checks the sender.

It reads, Kurt Hummel.

He has to bite his tongue to stop the smile forming on his lips. Kurt is a sophomore, only a year behind Blaine, and takes improv and stage combat class with Blaine. He’s also a student in one of Mme Tibideaux’s more advanced voice studio classes that Blaine miraculously got to be the TA for this year.

To say that Kurt is Blaine’s favorite student would be an understatement – in fact, hopelessly crushing on him is probably more accurate.

It’s not like Blaine is planning to do anything about it, at least not while he’s Kurt’s TA. It would be inappropriate, unprofessional, and probably also really awkward, especially if Kurt isn’t interested.

So, he’s not fooling himself into thinking that Kurt’s email will be anything out of the ordinary. Probably a note of absence or questions about the final exam… though, as Blaine notices with a frown, the subject reads “Paper Eggstension”. Autocorrect maybe? There’s no way Kurt’s spelling is that bad, Blaine has read and graded most of his MUS105 papers.

Glancing at the teacher to ensure he’s still unobserved, Blaine opens the email, intrigued and a bit concerned now. He scans the first few lines and – oh, wow.

Everyone at NYADA knows Kurt is full of surprises and he’s certainly made an impression on Blaine more than once but this…? This has Blaine blushing, giggling under his breath, shaking his head fondly and wanting to check up on Kurt all at once.

To: Blaine Anderson

From: Kurt Hummel

Subject: Paper Eggstension

---

Dear Mr. Blaine,

sry, I forgot your last name because Rachel calls you Mr. Dreamboat! And y would I use your last name anyway? You told us to call you Blaine. Thats a nice name. Blaiiiine.

You said other stuff too. Like that we could send you our MUS105 paper before we send it to Mme Tibidibideaux (I wish she let us call her Blaine too) but only if we dont miss the deadline. Now I gotta tell you: No can-do. But I have an excuse!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I know you don’t believe. But you should. Cuz Blaine, u see – I got my teeth removed. The smarty ones. The wisdom teat. Anyway. I got them out. It was brutality. So much pain, worse than when I watched you unfairly lose Midmight Madnesssss against that senior douche, whatever the fuck his name is again. You should have won Blaine. You were better. I think Rachel bribe the judge bc she went out with senior douche… what is hid name? Bobby? Barney?

But PLEASE could I get a few more days, could you ask Mme T.…??? I really wanna do well bc… you see, Mme T., she scares the hell out of me. Ha that rhymes, triple! Cuz I’m awesome. Yes, I am. You can just accept that as fact or you can also go out wih me and see how awesome I am for yourself, your choice (but pick the latter!). But anyway please please pls pls pls can I hand it the paper a bit later? I really cant submit something bad -- and Im afraid they pulled out my brain with the teeth!!!!!!!! I can’t write a well paper without a brain!

My doctor says Ill regret writing emails while Im hai (thats German for shark, funny fact) so I’m gonna stop and hope that you will say yes! Please bro? Oh! Brody. Brodouche. Midnight Madman. Destroy him next time! (He broke up with Rach, he deserves it.)

Thank you, Mr. Blaineboat. I really like you.

Kurt xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Blaine reads the email three times before deciding that he should wait until after class to type out a response. In the state he’s in right now, he’ll probably do something stupid and just write back, Yes to all.

He wants to, of course. He’d give Kurt an extension on his paper and say yes to a date with him in a heartbeat but… he knows he’ll have to convince Mme Tibideaux, sort out his personal TA-student dating policy (and maybe ask around if NYADA has an official take on it) and make sure Kurt really meant to type this and didn’t just do so in the spur of the painkiller-induced moment.

The class can’t end fast enough but as soon as it’s over and Blaine finds a quiet corner in the library to think of what to respond, he blanks, drafting several replies but ending up deleting all of them.

“Goddammit,” he mutters to himself. “Just write something.”

In the end, “something” doesn’t really compare to Shakespeare but Blaine figures that at least he won’t risk his job over it, either.

And maybe, just maybe, Kurt will catch the ambiguity in his words.

-

“What are you working on?” Rachel asks when she comes back to the loft, arms full of grocery bags that Kurt hopes are filled with veggies for him to make soup with. He seriously craves eating something that isn’t liquid but mushy veggies drowning in hot water really is the maximum of cheating when it comes to his pained cheeks. He knew it was a bad idea to get both upper wisdom teeth out the same day. But it’s too late to complain. At least he has a best friend who brings him soup.

Kurt sighs at the laptop in front of him.

“My paper for Mme Tibideaux,” he responds. “You know I love Sondheim but interpreting his work while physically injured makes me want to kill him.”

“He’s in his mid-eighties, Kurt,” Rachel tells him. “Let an old man be.”

“Ugh.” Kurt rubs his eyes. “The meds are making me tired, though.”

“Why do you even bother writing the paper when you got an extension from Mr. Dreamboat?”

Kurt frowns at Rachel. “Extension? When would I have gotten that?”

“In your email?” Rachel frowns back. “Come on, don’t tell me you chickened out just because you’re in love with him. He’s still our TA, he could probably do something about that deadline, so-”

“I don’t remember writing an email.” Kurt goes to student email and punches in his username and password. “Or getting one back, for that matter. Like, wouldn’t I rem-” He blinks in surprise, catching Blaine’s name in his inbox – twice, even. How high was he, exactly? “Wait, what did I…?” Clicking on the email, bits and pieces come back to him, and he suddenly grabs the couch cushion next to him, holding onto it for dear life. “Oh my god, no.”

“What?”

“Rachel.” Kurt feels the blood draining from his face. “Oh, Jesus, please tell me I didn’t write that…”

He scrolls through the quoted email below Blaine’s short responses (Dear Kurt, thank you for telling me! And yes, of course! I’ll talk to Mme Tibideaux, and get back to you once I know more. Get well soon! All the best, Blaine, and the more recent Dear Kurt, I got a yes from Mme Tibideaux, you’re getting one more week! Best, Blaine) and cringes when he reads the first line.

“I did. Fuuuuuck. Oh god, now I wish Sondheim could kill me.”

“Again, the guy’s, like, 85…” Rachel says slowly. “And why would you- whoa, is that your email to Blaine?”

Kurt doesn’t answer, instead opting to hide his face in his hands.

“You did not tell him we call him Mr. Dreamboat.”

Kurt whimpers.

“You did not ask him out!” Rachel squeals.

Kurt lets out a miserable whine.

“Oh my god, Kurt, you did not tell him you like him and signed the email with a dozen kissing faces!!!”

“WHAT?!” Kurt’s hands fly back to his laptop. He didn’t re-read that part. “Oh my god! I ju- Rachel, I can never go back to that school. I’m such a failure at life, Jesus Christ.”

“You’re very religious all of a sudden.”

“Don’t just sit there mocking me,” Kurt begs. “Tell me it was all just a bad dream.”

Rachel gives him a look of deep, genuine pity. “I really wish I could but I doubt my eyes can never unsee that email. Also, I know you wrote that while you were high on pain meds but I am a bit upset you never told me you didn’t like Brody. Might have saved me some trouble.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at her. “You honestly believe I never brought it up? What do you think we were we having that flea-market chair argument for? And don’t even pretend like you would have called it off with him just because I said something.” Rachel opens her mouth to speak but Kurt shakes his head violently. “It doesn’t matter, anyway – what am I going to do about this?!”

Rachel shrugs. “Kurt, it’s out there. All you can do now is roll with it.”

“In my grave, you mean?”

“In class. To which we’re going tomorrow since you’re so much better already,” Rachel tells him sternly. “Judging by Mr. Dreamb-”

“We can’t call him that anymore,” Kurt says quickly.

“Fine.” She sighs. “Judging by Blaine’s reply, he’s not bothered by it. Who knows, maybe he’s flattered. Or happy about it. It’s not every day you get an email from a cute guy confessing he’s crushing on you.”

“Yeah, right,” Kurt mumbles into the sleeve of his sweater. “As if I stand a chance with him.”

“No time like the present to find out,” Rachel says with finality. “Now, I’m making you soup, and you’re going to put on some Sondheim so you can work on your paper with some fresh insights and maximum concentration.”

It’s a nice thought – but Kurt doesn’t get anything done that night.

-

Blaine carefully keeps his eyes on his notebook when Rachel and Kurt walk into his class.

He was expecting Kurt to come back today (and no, he did not google how long it takes for people to recover from wisdom teeth extraction – he just asked Sam, who had gotten it done right before moving to New York), and he might have put a little extra effort into looking good today. He never got a response from Kurt, so he figures the guy has either silently acknowledged the paper extension, avoided Blaine for a number of possible reasons or forgotten about the exchange entirely.

Whatever the motivation behind it, Blaine will not despair over it. He’s Kurt’s TA, and as such won’t try anything anyway. NYADA doesn’t seem to have any policy against TAs dating students but nevertheless, he doesn’t want to put either them in an awkward position.

Which doesn’t even take into account the fact that he still doesn’t know whether Kurt remembers asking him out, whether he actually meant it, or whether he intends to ask again.

He might want to wait until Blaine’s no longer his TA as well. That’s alright with Blaine. After all, there’s a month left to this semester, so he can wait. He totally can.

He looks up from his notebook with a smile.

“Hi everyone,” he greets the class. “How are you doing? So, the deadline for your papers is Friday so I hope you’ve all sent me your drafts in case you want me to read them.” He can’t help but let his eyes wander to where Kurt is sitting. “Unless there were any reasons to hand them in late.”

Kurt blinks really quickly at the sudden eye contact, and lets out a nervous laugh.

And Blaine realizes he really totally cannot wait a whole month to get answers to his questions.

Before he can stop himself, he adds, “Everyone with extensions on their papers, please come see me after class.”

Of course, that’s just Kurt, but the class won’t know. Okay, Rachel might know, seeing as she elbows Kurt so hard it almost sends him flying off his seat. Kurt almost doesn’t seem to notice it as he’s busy staring at Blaine with a bit of a twitch in his eye.

Blaine suppresses a groan. This isn’t the plan. What is he doing?

-

“Blaine, I am so sorry!” Kurt exclaims in misery when the rest of the students slip away after class is over.

He’s beyond glad that Blaine didn’t make him sing any of his pieces today because apart from already being nervous whenever Blaine does ask him to do that, today his anxiety probably would have been the final straw. He might have run off or broken out into tears in front of everyone.

Blaine looks at him with a small smile. “You’ve got nothing to apologize.”

“Uh, yes, I do,” Kurt says stubbornly. He’s beyond mortified; the least Blaine can do is let him apologize properly. “I really didn’t mean to-”

“Oh.” Blaine looks down on the pile of sheet music he was stacking. “Yeah, right. Uhm, seriously though, I know how bad pain killers can be, I don’t blame you for-”

“Oh thank god, you know it was the pain meds,” Kurt breathes out in relief. “I was afraid you’d think-”

“No worries,” Blaine cuts him off. “It’s alright if you didn’t mean any of it.”

Kurt hesitates for a second, and gulps as he takes in Blaine’s slightly shaky hand movement as he stuffs the sheet music into his messenger bag.

“If…?” he asks quietly.

“I mean that,” Blaine says, eyebrows furrowing slightly. “Sorry, that, of course.”

Kurt’s at a loss. He’s getting mixed signals, and just judging by the last bit of the exchange – if that was the only thing that had happened, his stupid email and the fact that Blaine is his freaking TA forgotten – he might even be encouraged to inquire further.

But he can’t just admit to meaning all of it, right?

He settles for the safer topic. “So you wanted to speak to me about my paper?” he asks.

“Uh, yes.” Blaine smiles, though he still looks distracted. “I just wanted to ask you whether you had any questions about the material since you couldn’t join us for the last two sessions.”

“I…” Kurt shakes his head. “No, I think I’ve got it covered. Rachel caught me up.”

“Alright. Well, if you have any questions, you can send me an email.”

“Or not,” Kurt says quickly. “I think I’m swearing off emails for a while.”

Blaine laughs, the sound warm and pleasant in Kurt’s ear.

“Right,” he says. “I know this is a bit awkward but… it could have been worse. You could have written that to Mme Tibideaux or Miss July.”

Kurt is so relieved that Blaine is able to joke about it that he replies with a mindless, “Yeah, except I wouldn’t have told them I liked them, so…”

Blaine gapes at him, and Kurt realizes a second to late what he’s implying yet again.

“Oh,” Blaine says. “I, uh-”

“I’ve got to go,” Kurt cuts in, ears burning. “Can I go?”

“Uh, uhm, well, yeah, of course,” Blaine stutters.

As Kurt turns around and gathers his stuff, he can hear Blaine mutter something to himself. Kurt’s almost out the door, when Blaine calls out, “Kurt?”

Kurt turns around gingerly. “Yeah?”

“I really didn’t mind.”

“Okay...”

“Like, really really.”

Kurt wants to scream, But what does that mean?! Instead, he takes a deep breath, collects his thoughts, and says, “Okay… see you in improv, I guess?”

Blaine nods quickly. “Yeah. Later, Kurt.”

“Later, Blaine.”

-

Blaine is early to improv class, even though it’s all the way across campus. But he didn’t stop for his usual coffee, grabbed a salad to-go instead of lunch with his friends from his dorm, and also maybe, possibly hurried to get to class because Kurt is usually early to everything.

Blaine is the first to arrive, though, so he grabs his usual seat and gets out his salad. He’s about to slice the egg when he hears Kurt’s voice from outside the classroom.

“Talk to you later, Rachel.”

“Okay. And, Kurt, remember to ask-”

“Bye now!”

As soon as Kurt’s through the door, his eyes land on Blaine and he freezes.

“Uh, hi,” he says. His cheeks are slightly red, probably from the cold weather outside. “You’re – uhm, early.”

“Yeah.” Blaine looks down briefly, willing himself to just go for it this time. “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Again?” Kurt bites his lip. “I thought-”

“Kurt, when I said yes in the email, I meant yes to both.”

“Both?” Kurt frowns. “I don’t-”

“Both questions. Or requests, I guess.”

Kurt’s eyes widen. “You mean…”

“Yeah, I mean,” Blaine says with as much conviction as possible. “At first, I didn’t want to say anything because, you know, TA and all, but… seeing you in class, knowing, or well, hoping that you meant it, and… I don’t know, I couldn’t wait those four weeks until the semester is over. So I asked you to stay after class but then that felt super shady, too, so… I don’t even really know what I’m doing right now.”

“Do you know what you’re saying, though?” Kurt asks breathlessly.

“Well…” Blaine can’t suppress a grin. “Unlike some people, I’m not on pain meds right now, so, yeah, I’m pretty sure I have full control over my words.”

Kurt glares at him but it’s mostly façade, especially considering he’s still looking like Christmas came a bit early this year, and Blaine… well, Blaine is floored at the thought of being the one to actually make him look like that.

“Well, apparently those pain meds at least made me confess something neither of us could admit to sober, so…”

“Hey, for the record,” Blaine says, getting up to stand in front of Kurt, “I fully intended to ask you out once the semester was over.”

Kurt’s eyes are locked on Blaine with sheer intensity, and Blaine isn’t proud to admit it makes his knees a bit weak.

“Really?” Kurt asks, clearly intrigued, then sighs. “So my email was completely unnecessary.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Blaine says. “I got so many laughs out of it.”

“Oh god, shut up.”

“No, I mean, it – eggstension?” Blaine chuckles. “Wisdom teat? There were some good ones there.”

“What part of shut up-”

Waiting really isn’t Blaine’s strong suit, he realizes, as he leans in to kiss Kurt, four weeks too early to be completely professional, yet about half a year too late considering how long he’s had his eye on him.

Kurt’s protest is muffled against Blaine’s lips, and dies down completely once they press closer together to get better access. They part for air briefly, and Kurt whispers, “When I got up this morning, I would have sworn this would be the last thing I’d ever say, but I’m pretty proud of myself for writing that email now.”

Blaine licks his bottom lip, chasing the faint taste of Kurt there. “I’m glad you wrote it, too.” This whole thing between them has lasted about a minute but he wants more so badly he feels like he’s physically incapable from drawing Kurt back in and kissing him again.

They keep at it until other students start to trickle into the room, and even then they share meaningful glances and press their ankles together between their chairs.

Between all the talking and kissing, Blaine didn’t get to eat his salad, so about halfway through the lecture, his stomach starts growling.

Kurt turns to him with a grin. “Forgot to eat?”

“I guess I was distracted.”

“Hm, by what, I wonder?” Kurt asks cheekily.

Blaine eyes his untouched salad in amusement. “I guess I got pretty egg-sited over this boy I like.”

It’s totally worth all the frustrated elbowing he gets in response.

[dearmyblank]

Dear Eight Year Old Me,

What ever you do, do not make that first scratch, because the scratch will become two and then two will become three. Before you know it you'll be using a thumbtack because it's pointier, sharper and can give the satisfaction that the previous way lost. Scratches won't be enough, so you'll press deeper so you make a tiny cut and blood is drawn. You'll feel calm, even relaxed because now you feel something, you're no longer numb, but what you don't realise in that moment is that it will become addictive. You'll think 'I can control this, this was just a one time thing, it was stupid. i'm ashamed.' But just like an addict with drugs and/or alcohol, this is also an addiction. Everytime you start to feel that numbing feeling come back you go and make a cut again. You'll feel the same relief, the same calming effects, but then it'll crash and you'll feel slightly down because "it's stupid and you're ashamed" so you'll make the same promise that you won't do it again..

As the years go on, that tiny cut no longer satisfies you. You don't care about the broken promises to yourself anymore, you don't even care about the ashamed feeling you get with it or thinking about the scars, you're just chasing that same calming relief feeling. So you upgrade to a different way of doing it. You'll use the blade (?) from a pencil sharpener. Now you'll be sitting on your bed, prepared, ready to do what needs to be done to get that feeling. The cuts will become a little deeper and longer. First you'll shake, your hands will tremble because if you go too deep then it's game over and you'll just bleed out, but the feeling of numbness and the inevitable darkness that is depression will whisper words pushing you over the edge and you'll make that line. Then comes bliss. So you do it again and again and again, until you are satisfied. You'll dab the blood away and put on antiseptic cream and act like nothing happened, because to you, nothing did happen, you're just floating on a cloud of calming relief. Until morning when you now realise you have to cover up the angry red lines so people won't see them, so you'll put on your watch and school jumper and act like nothing's there. But they will lose their satisfaction too, so you think about it again. Only this time you go for a place that is coverable, because everyone, including you covers it on a daily basis and you don't go swimming anymore, so no one will see. That first cut, you'll feel pain, stinging, but thats what you crave. That feeling pushing through the numbness and you can finally breathe again. It's brought more satisfaction than anything else and you'll wonder why you've never done it there before. So you get a little carried away and do more than you planned. But you're calm. Days, even weeks go past and you won't feel the need to do it again, the first few days you could feel them because they rubbed against your clothes and made themselves known, but the calming relief lasted for what seem like ever. But then comes the depression sneaking up on you, ready to engulf you in darkness. Everything seems to be going wrong, you're turning normal things into bad news. You're become numb again, every time you feel numb it's stronger than before. Sure there will be times where you won't do it because you can get through it, but there will be times where you just need to feel something. So you'll go back and do it again, more angry red lines. Eventually, you'll end up with so many scars that you can't count them. You'll look at them and realise that you can no longer go swimming with family or friends because they will see them, you'll feel disappointed in yourself, but in that moment you didn't care, the relief is all you wanted. You got you relief but it came with a price. 

You'll hit a point where you won't even feel numb or depressed, but you just want to do it. Like I said, it's an addiction. You won't tell anyone about it, you won't even tell anyone that you are depressed. You'll feel sad, not that sad feeling where it goes away soon but that sad feeling where you can't even force a smile. That's the depression. You don't know about it than, you don't even know its name, but it's there. You do tell your dad that you feel as if a piece of you is missing; this is the numbing feeling. You tell him this when you are 8/9 years old, and he'll tell you to stop being so stupid and that nothing can be missing. He's right, nothing can be missing; not physically anyway. But don't listen to him, He's an arse, he's rude and he'll always put a downer on your mood. You'll never be 'Daddy's little princess' because you don't get on with him. 

You hide this all so well that everyone thinks you're okay. You're not. You start losing friends, no one wants to talk to you, get to know you, hangout with you or even invite you to places, so you do what you know best and you chase the calming relief. It's your only friend now. You'll have a moment where you'll think that everyone is leaving because you're depressing but you manage to convince yourself that that is not the case, and that you just think everyone is leaving. Until one day, where your 'friend' tells you that you're depressing and you're making her depressed. Everything changes then, you become more closed off, you won't tell anyone what's wrong when they ask, you'll just say you're okay. You'll lie. You'll cut. 

When you leave school, you'll feel okay, everything seems okay for awhile, You're friends ask you out, you go on late night drives to the beach. It'll be fun. But than it'll stop and you won't know why, they'll just stop asking. You feel abandoned and lonely and you're all alone. You'll feel hopeless because you don't have a job as there is none in your town and you'll have no friends. Darkness creeps its way back in ready to put up a fight, to trap you in its darkness, but this time you welcome it with open arms. In a twisted way you feel comfort by it because it's the only one who stuck around. So it numbs you and you find your relief. You do this for awhile, but not so often. You now know that it's bad and that you shouldn't do it, but you also know that if you do loads in one go, you won't feel the need for awhile. You'll make yourself promises again that you will stop, this'll be the last time. You'll keep them for awhile, you'll be clean but then you'll relapse because everything was too much and so you add to your collection of scars. You relapse quite a few times. Only you get mad at yourself for it this time. 

This is your addiction now. It's not seen as a problem to others because they can't see it. You hide all your problems so well that no one even knows, but you do this because you're scared. If you tell anyone they try to relate when they don't have the foggiest idea what it's like. People try to make a trend out of it, so even if you wanted to speak about it you would just be labelled a sheep or an attention seeker. The world is difficult on good days, this way just makes it worse.

So eight year old me, if you ever want to feel normal and have friends and a good life. Take it from twenty year old me and don't do it. Don't make that first scratch. Everything goes wrong after that, you're set for a lifetime of letdowns and failures.

Do not make that first scratch!

-Twenty Year Old You.