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randomwriteronline · 8 months

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Ko-Wahi was a short variety of generally not necessarily pleasant things: it was desolate, cold, harsh, and - when the winds didn't rush after one another through the icy peaks with low howling shrieks, cutting through the frigid aether like claws of an enormous Rahi reaching out to grasp any wayward Matoran foolish enough to dare wander in its territory - it was abnormally quiet.

So it reasoned that if Kopaka, Toa of Ice and Hating Being Around People, was not found anywhere else, he had to have secluded himself to a place that at the very least resembled the environment he had first felt at home in.

He didn't even flinch at the rush of air that accompanied the stomps which suddenly stopped by his side.

"You're late," he only commented.

The jovial jab Pohatu had ready for him froze in his throat, and he tilted his head slightly in genuine confusion: "Late?" he repeated.

"I expected you to be here five minutes ago," Kopaka replied.

"You were expecting... Me?"

"Of course I was," the other replied matter-of-factly: "If there's something I can depend on, it's the fact you'll chase me down to the ends of the silver sea just because."

The Toa of Stone blinked quickly a few times, eventually smirking back: "And if there's something I can depend on, it's that I'll always find you somewhere snowy and deserted."

He then leaned a little closer and proceeded to add, in a goofier tone: "Like your heart."

The gentle elbow punted in his side made him snicker as he successfully evaded it the first time; he cackled a bit louder when the second jab actually hit.

His friend did not dignify his amusement with any verbal response. Instead, he extended his finger.

Pohatu followed where it was pointing, staring at the same vast expanse of white he had just sped through (luckily without having to skid through any frozen snow - perhaps one of the very few things he certainly did not miss about the island of Mata Nui), and found nothing.

At first.

His pinprick pupils, so used to the desert sun, struggled a little more, trying to tighten even harder or widen ever so slightly: even with the clouds shielding his eyes from the sunbeams turned blinding as they were reflected on the candid coat of snow, the uniformity of the colors confused and unified all that supposedly existed before him with only few exceptions. There was snow, snow, snow, more snow, a leftover Visorak web, even more snow, another patch of snow, something looking vaguely disgusting half covered in snow, some more snow, a lance of light reflected from a point just outside the clouds' range, a vast amount of snow, a smaller amount of snow, snow, snow, and one last puff of snow over there. Riveting!

But Kopaka seldom pointed at nothing at all just to stretch out his finger; and once he truly focused on the exact location he was indicating, Pohatu saw.

He saw a jagged thing, sharp end splintered and jutting towards the sky like a blade, ever so slightly greyer than the pallor surrounding it; he saw its missing half laying mournfully among the powdery ground, defeated, cracked, open wide.

He saw its entrails, eroded by the weather, far too small to properly distinguish one object from the other from this distance - still they glittered grey and blue in the lack of color as if to remind in silent screams of their existence, once, as tools and furniture and inventions of scholars, before they'd found themselves abandoned in the wake of their master's leave as strange crystalline gore only partially hidden away in the haste of a half hearted burial.

He saw dozens of the jagged corpse's kind - once pillars, columns, immense bastions, now nothing more than ruins. Enormous animals frozen in place, never to thaw awake once more.

He saw frail, beautiful exoskeletons awaiting with such tiredness to be crushed, replaced by larvae in the bowels of which knowledge would thrive.

The wind passed between them without strength, not even lifting a snowflake.

"Breath-taking, isn't it," Kopaka murmured.

Pohatu nodded in silence.

They simply stood there for a long time, side by side, looking upon the carcasses of Ko-Metru's knowledge towers.

Looking upon what was left of a city of legends.

There had never been a Matoran called Kopaka, in the Turaga's tales.

He had never competed with Ehrye as they rushed to run errands for the seers in the hopes of one day being allowed to stand beside them at the top of those magnificent crystal constructions, spending days pondering and reading stars, uncovering the secrets of the future to the point of turning the very idea of tomorrow into such a mundane thing; he had never known Nuju, never looked at him with awe, or respect, or burning envy. He had never walked those streets, or skied down those slopes, or travelled to the Colosseum inside of a protodermis chute.

And yet he had found his chest aching as he had listened to those descriptions, from a nostalgia that wasn't his own. As though Vakama and his stories had handed him a coal that had long singed the Turaga's hand, still weakly sizzling, that now burned his palm in turn.

Mata Nui had been all he'd ever known as far as he was concerned. There had been nothing before; and if there had been, it wasn't the land the Matoran had been forced away from.

Yet despite knowing as much, despite the attempts to soothe the dull pain that had no place in his logical mind, in the long last hours he'd gotten to spend on the chiling peaks surrounding Mount Ihu the Toa of Ice had been unable to keep himself from wandering away from the material world into absentminded daydreams, trying to construct a memory that had never been there, a life he had never lived.

He had imagined Ko-Metru many times. He had imagined Metru Nui as a whole many times, the orderly archives, the silvery canals, the smoky furnaces, the dangling cables, the unmoving statues - a world for smaller eyes (like his never had been) to see. He had imagined the Colosseum, its inner mechanisms, even the Vahki guards, despite their presence being nothing but an annoyance at best and a source of uneasiness and dread and outright danger at worst. He had imagined himself getting in trouble with them often - who would they have been, to tell him what to do? What made them any different from a Bohrok?

He had imagined them often, but he had never seen them. Never whole. Never alive.

As he stared at what remained of a city of seers, he ached to have been there. Maybe he would have understood better. Maybe it would have hurt more. Maybe it would have felt more like home.

But would he have noticed? Any of the beauty, the lack of strife? Would he have liked a life such as this, spent either pondering on who knows what, or reading pages of history before they were even written, or running around tirelessly for people who did both former and latter? Would this sight have stirred something deep in him now, or would his amnesia have kept his feelings at a distance?

His chest hurt. Something inside it ached terribly, pushing hard against his muscle and metal, like a fish suddenly rushing to break the still frozen surface of a lake in a bout of claustrophobia.

He felt strange, uncomfortable.

Like something misplaced.

Kopaka's eyes wandered over the crystal towers, suddenly overwhelmed. He let out a shuddering, watery breath, as quiet as he could.

He needed not worry about being heard.

Pohatu was too enthralled by the sight before them to notice his momentary frailty.

He gazed on, unable to tear his his eyes from what his brother regarded as an enormous grave he could not mourn properly, and beheld only a thing of beauty.

It was not the vast expanse of Po-Wahi's desert, nor the infinite lushness of Le-Wahi's jungles, the burnt forests of Ta-Wahi, the Ga-Wahi reefs, the cavernous labyrinths of Onu-Wahi - it could not even compare to the frigid landscape of Ko-Wahi despite all their similarities, and he could tell from a first glance.

Ko-Metru and its siblings could have never been what the Koro of Mata Nui had been - they were not a breathing nook interwoven in the world around them: they were carefully constructed bubbles, encased, entrapped within themselves, the wild nature that once had run through it tamed carefully only to cry out despite its weakened form once the binds upon it had been snapped to pieces and left to rot.

It was not beautiful in the way he knew a land to be; it was not open and grand to the point of being frightening. It was shut on itself, broken, a pale imitation of what it had been.

And yet he found it all so gorgeous.

It had embarrassed him at first - not feeling. Remaining still and unfazed as the Turaga had longingly described what the Toa of Stone should have regarded as home, a field of statues tirelessly carved by artisans of his people. He had struggled to imagine it properly, managing only hazy scorches of some undefined place, like a mirage in the desert; and hearing his brothers and sisters wonder aloud, so curious, of how they would have expected their Metru to be, he'd been all but mortified at his own lackluster enthusiasm.

Had he really grown so self centered? All the world seemed to feel as though it had only started existing with his birth upon that fateful shore.

A city of legends on the other side of the sea... He could not have ever pictured it.

But now he was there, walking upon its streets, traveling across its lands, and it looked nothing like it had been described: it looked shattered and lost, and broken, and rusted, and standing still where it had once stood so proud and shining only to spite the cruelty of time that wanted it to bend and turn leveled.

Pohatu had lost himself between scattered remains of monumental statues, details sanded down until unrecognizable, or filled with what little life could make its home in such a crevice. He has searched between the broken Kanohi nobody had ever melted down again, seeing his and his siblings' likenesses over and over and over and over, he had followed broken cables back to the towers from which they had once served a purpose, raced along empty canals to make a sense of them, peeked into tunnels the roofs of which had been torn open like dissected anthills.

Metru Nui had never been whole, not for him.

It had always been this gorgeous wreck, this beautiful ruined landscape. He could not imagine it as anything less; he could not see it as anything mournful, or dead, or ugly.

Each toppled building was where it should have been. Each destroyed spire was exactly as the Great Spirit had intended it to be.

Such a frail, stubborn, lovely, wild thing.

A tragedy and a celebration.

Glowing brighter than the twin suns with every ounce of its incomplete, breath-taking beauty.

Kopaka felt something tug very gently at his arm. When he turned, he noticed Pohatu still hadn't taken his eyes away from the shimmering remains of the towers.

"Did you want to show me this?" the Toa asked, quietly, quietly.

His friend looked back to the sight before them and swallowed a heavy knot in his throat: "I did," he replied.

The grip on his limb tightened ever so slightly.

Comfortingly.

"Thank you." Pohatu whispered.

Kopaka did not answer.

They looked on.

#bionicle #pohatu #kopaka #metru nui #random writing #second hand nostalgia vs finding beauty in ruins: fight (the opponents start kissing each other tenderly)#in other news hi ive read 7 bionicle books in abt a month and im not even remotely mentally stable about these guys #both of these feelings in regards to the past are ones i experience and consequentially im feeling them abt bionicle too #it was never properly alive for me so im entranced by the story and the works and the fans and everything as someone from After It Happened #but at the same time i feel an ache to have been there at the beginning even though i physically couldnt have been #anyways sorry if stuff is ooc. i love these two lads but ive never written for em before #big shoutout to my friend rabid. i love you. thank you for letting the Fleshy Annotations swallow me whole

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isaacthedruid · 3 months

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I’ve been writing in my mental health journal for over an hour now, this is Dan Howell’s fault but also I thank him. That show was beautiful and deeply thought provoking.

We are all doomed and sure, death is inevitable but we’ve still gotta live between then and now. There’s still so much hope and light and just good, and that show reminded me of that. So I thank him, truly, and I hope he’s well and I hope that he’s loved (or reminded that he’s loved, the way he reminded us).

I wanted to mention something he said at the show I saw in person, that he didn’t in the recorded version, about how hopeful he is and his belief in the next generations. He mentioned the (everyday) activists and change makers, and just that we are working to make good differences, and he talked of the good in gen Z itself. And I also thank him for that, though I definitely butchered his words just now.

We’re All Doomed was beautiful, dark and with multiple references to the cock of my childhood youtuber and his crush on Tony the Tiger, but fuck, it was something. Really, something. It’s what I needed to hear, both then and now. And I’m thankful I had the privilege to see it again.

#wad #we’re all doomed #dan howell #daniel howell #Dan and Phil #IVE WRITTEN THREE PAGES DANIEL #THREE PAGES #mental health #ABANAABABABA THAT SHOW WAS SO GOOD AND THE POST SHOW WITH PHIL WAS SO FUN

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allfortzu · 11 months

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i'll carry the moon and stars, i'll carry you and me

-- jihyo / tzuyu. 1.4k - light angst, fluff - hurt/comfort, light mentions of blood // MEN DNI.

tzuyu goes home to jihyo.

it’s late at night and pouring outside, a constant static of crashing cascades instead of rhythmic patters.

jihyo still finds it calming, though. there’s always been something about the simultaneous state of disarray and comforting orderliness that came with storms and thunder.

it also meant she had an excuse to curl up under a blanket and watch every movie she’d been neglecting. not that she needed one, but it was always nice to have.

a little mundane for a detective, maybe, but some mundanity has always been needed to balance out a life like hers.

peace in chaos, if you will.

comforting orderliness in states of disarray.

so, jihyo picks out her most comfortable pyjamas, and makes the best cup of tea she knows how to make – which only consists of choosing the most expensive brand of tea she has and actually boiling water instead of microwaving, but such is life.

she’s still humming and waiting for the kettle to sound when her doorbell rings, a barely discernible ding in the storm.

she pads her way from her kitchen to the living room, right up the entrance of her house. it’s too dark outside to see anything through the peephole, so she opens the slightest crack in her blinds.

the light from inside spills out, and the outline of a familiar figure is illuminated.

jihyo opens the door instantly. instinctual, immediate.

“tzuyu?”

tzuyu looks up at the sound, and jihyo’s chest tightens.

her cheeks are smeared with blood, gaze weak and lidded. her suit is ripped and there’s splashes of dirt and more blood over her usually stark white button up. everything is drenched in the downpour. her clothes drip with rain.

tzuyu’s voice is painfully soft.

she opens her mouth but nothing comes out, the rain drowning out every syllable.

but jihyo hears her clearly.

she knows when tzuyu says –

“jihyo unnie.”

jihyo’s heart shatters.

she wants to tug tzuyu in by the wrist and ask her every question in her mind – what happened, are you okay, who did this – but tzuyu takes a single step in, and she loses all strength.

“tzuyu!”

jihyo surges forward; without thinking, without hesitance.

tzuyu falls right into her arms.

boneless, completely weak.

the rain from her clothes soak through jihyo’s pyjamas, she’s piercingly cold to the touch. jihyo feels her tremble, meek and shivering. every breath she takes comes out shakily, every exhale barely there.

jihyo’s never realised just how small tzuyu is, finding solace in her arms.

it hurts terribly to see.

maybe it’s the adrenaline, or pure determination – but jihyo hoists tzuyu up with everything she has, carries her unfalteringly until they reach her shower.

she sets tzuyu down and hurriedly pushes her damp blazer off; clenches her teeth at the sight of more blood revealed on the sleeves of tzuyu's white shirt.

"who the hell did this, tzu?" jihyo seethes, pulling a towel off the rack and wrapping tzuyu up. "what happened?"

"i don't know…" tzuyu says weakly, clutching at the towel and curling into herself for warmth. "some other gang– "

then, softer; shakier, "sorry… you– you were the only person i could think of."

jihyo pulls tzuyu into her arms as tight as she's able to, presses tzuyu into her shoulder, cheek to temple.

she's still worried sick, but at least tzuyu's conscious and speaking.

at least tzuyu's here with her.

"are you hurt anywhere?" jihyo's voice cracks, pained. she lifts tzuyu's head gently to cup her face, caressing a thumb over her cheekbones and looking over the wounds. "... is this your blood?"

tzuyu doesn't say anything, just looks at jihyo, eyes watery and lips pursed.

"oh, baby," jihyo mutters.

she realises, tzuyu's not so much shaking from the cold than shaking from whatever happened to her before all this.

she's scared.

jihyo decides her questions can wait.

"take a shower, i'll get you a set of clothes," she says, stroking tzuyu's cheek one last time and laying her palms on tzuyu's knees. "okay?"

tzuyu catches jihyo's wrist before she stands up; whispers, "stay with me?"

her fingertips are still freezing, so jihyo adjusts her hold until her hands are covering tzuyu’s. just a little warmth.

“okay,” she raises their hands up to her lips, presses a kiss to tzuyu’s knuckles. “i’ll get us clothes.”

jihyo has seen her fair share of blood and slashes, but peeling tzuyu’s soaked red clothes off still makes her wince. tzuyu sucks in a sharp breath at times, some wounds a little more tender than others.

the most obvious ones are gashes below her ribs and another on her thigh, then bruises here and there. there’s more blood on her jaw, but jihyo can’t tell if they’re tzuyu’s or someone else's.

tzuyu stays close the entire shower, and jihyo focuses on washing her hair first. she kneads the shampoo into tzuyu’s head gently, massages her fingers into her scalp and detangles whatever she can.

the shower adds on to the rain outside; it’s loud in tzuyu’s ears, a mess of sounds.

tzuyu clenches her fists, lets jihyo work her fingers through her hair despite the sensitivity of water passing over her wounds.

she tries to focus on jihyo’s eyes – dark brown, then golden when the light catches them just right. they’re distracted and darting, cautious and wary, but soft around the edges, fading into black at the rim of her irises.

it becomes apparent that the blood on tzuyu's face isn't tzuyu's own. jihyo doesn't know if she should be worried or relieved.

she cleans tzuyu's wounds in the shower, too, gently rinsing the cuts with warm water. tzuyu flinches whenever jihyo dabs at it, whimpering and shaking softly.

jihyo intertwines her free hand with tzuyu’s, squeezing reassuringly. “just a little more, tzu.”

tzuyu squeezes back, eyes closed.

for the most part, jihyo's voice is soothing enough to help her endure the pain.

"this part won't hurt, don't worry."

she rests her head on jihyo's shoulder still, and jihyo tries not to ache too much at the feeling of tzuyu tearing up, holding her breath throughout.

the gashes don't look deep, so jihyo places a gauze dressing over them and settles with wrapping tzuyu up in bandages.

"can you walk?" jihyo asks, scratching lightly at tzuyu's scalp and running a thumb over the shell of her ear.

tzuyu nods, releasing the breath she was holding. she uses jihyo as leverage to stand up, but shifts most of her weight on her uninjured leg.

jihyo stands with her, letting tzuyu hold on to her shoulders as they dress.

"thank you," tzuyu says, slipping jihyo's oversized t-shirt on.

it fits just right when she wears it, and it smells perfectly of jihyo.

"sorry," she adds. "i won't– "

"don't be," jihyo cuts in. "i know it's a given for… what you do."

she curves her palm around tzuyu's jaw gently, almost as if she's afraid of hurting tzuyu. tzuyu can't help but turn her head to nuzzle into the touch.

"just come to me, okay? any time," jihyo continues, stroking tzuyu's face. "i'm always here. i'll always, always open the door for you. i'll do all of this again if you ever need it. remember that."

tzuyu nods. "i know."

she places a hand over jihyo's, kisses her palm.

remembers the storm outside, how she staggered through the downpour with barely any conscience, light-headed from the fight. she'd shown up at jihyo's house naturally; an innate desire to just want to be with jihyo.

there was nowhere else she’d rather have gone.

tzuyu wakes up in jihyo’s arms at dawn, turns her head to check if jihyo’s awake.

jihyo has tossed all the blankets over tzuyu, she knows tzuyu runs cold. she has one hand over the part of tzuyu’s abdomen that had been injured, and the other plays with tzuyu’s hair idly.

“i have to go to work,” she says, seeing that tzuyu had awoken. her voice is low and raspy in the morning. “will you stay?”

tzuyu hums, stretches until she can curl an arm around jihyo’s waist. “can i?”

she's still sore, and every move sends a sharp pain to the gashes. but it's better. better than if she were alone.

“always." jihyo kisses her temple.

she leans down again to brush tzuyu’s hair aside, presses another kiss to her forehead. “i have to get a few urgent things sorted at the office, but i’ll be home quickly, okay?”

tzuyu smiles. “i’ll be here.”

where else would she go?

the rain had stopped sometime in the night.

she’s warm, she’s safe.

and she’s with jihyo.

even if tzuyu is chaos in all her ways, jihyo is peace.

i'm sure this would've been a much nicer read if i'd wrote some backstory for them, but i couldn't get this particular scene out of my mind 🤧 it's meant to be detective!hyo / vigilante!tzu! is the suit part of tzuyu's vigilante get-up or is it just bc i find it hot? who knows <3 you can tell ttt crime scene 2 did a number on me

anyways, thank you for reading!!! i really loved writing this one, and i really hope you enjoyed it! interactions truly truly appreciated <3

#twice imagines #jihyo x tzuyu #twice fluff #twice angst #park jihyo #chou tzuyu #jitzu #but very light angst!#angst written simply to give rise to a fluffier ending <3 #title very very vaguely inspired from 披星戴月的想你 by 告五人 (accusefive)#the vibe of their songs in general fits very well here too!! highly recommend! theyre one of my favs :)#i wanted to write a datzu sick fic but everything felt too similar to “in pain in love” so ive put that aside until i forget ipil 🙏#and new gradient!! for angst fics 😁#would be ideal if i had the mental strength to make this a series and seriously flesh all these out #maybe one day #twice fics

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lord-squiggletits · 3 months

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Speaking of Tyrest. A lot of people forget that he treated Pharma with absolute disdain, not only using him as a test subject for a clearly painful mass murder machine, but talking to Pharma like he saw him as nothing but some henchman to order around that was nothing more than a 'diseased cripple' if Tyrest hadn't come to rescue him.

Like it really is an interesting background dynamic with some curious implications, but when you look at fandom posts from around that issue/the years after, for some reason people just saw "Pharma worked with Tyrest" and concluded Pharma is a card carrying bigot ksjfnskxkd. Like yeah Pharma didn't do anything to stop Tyrest but it seems his main beef with the Autobots was with Ratchet in particular and maybe a general disdain for his ex-comrades. As well as continuing to hate Decepticons which like, not even the "good Autobots" are immune to (even in Pharma's introduction, First Aid says in his journal something like "yeah we all hate Decepticons, but Pharma REALLY hates them"). And despite what fandom likes to construe there's really no evidence in IDW1 that Autobots and Decepticons are different "races" or "types" of Cybertronians, so Pharma hating Decepticons really isn't a bigotry/robot racism thing. And instead probably has something to do with, idk, the 4 million year long galaxy-spanning blood feud war, or maybe being blackmailed and tortured into insanity by the Biggest and Most Decepticon-y of Decepticons.

Tyrest treated Pharma like trash, the other Decepticons working for Tyrest (how come no one ever brings that up btw) also hated him, so if anything it seems that Pharma was more of a rogue element only staying with Tyrest bc he was his best option and probably had no way to even escape.

I'm glad that at least in recent years the fandom has acquired a keen reading eye and good taste to finally recognize Pharma as the (accidentally) complex character he is instead of making him some posh, racist Starscream clone SHSJDGSGDH

#squiggposting #pharma apologism #yeah i'm apologisting again i guess my mental health is somewhat okay again dkdkkxckkddkd #(my followers seeing me post about pharma) nature is healing #there's also that line where pharma says 'maybe i can help' and skids is like #'fuck off and hope we don't beat you to death after this is over'#they didnt know that pharma was a test subject of the killswitch but wow #that's prolly one of the most out of pocket moments of the story that ive never seen anyone mention #honestly that moment is why i think JRO didnt intend pharma to be That Deep #i feel like that sort of 'not even other autobots like him' treatment is something #that comes up a lot in JRO's villain writing. or like asshole behavior towards some characters #is just plot events proceeding as usual. nothing to see just villains getting their due #tho tbh pharma's character in general suffers from the problem that he's so closely related to a main/major characyer #that it wouldve made way more sense for him to be written in earlier #so all his connections w/ ratchet and the plot had to be established retroactively #also speaking of 'asshole behavior excused bc it's towards a villain'#all those times when people are like (fucking amazing piece of medical research by pharma)#'then he started murdering his patients. what a piece of shit'#like idk it could have been intentional but imo all my readings of pharma were not really intended by JRO #and i'm fully just headcanoning and constructing theories on my own #like pharma was simply not important enough or a major enough character to get fleshed ojt #so basically we get enough pieces of him to establish continuity and a general timeline of his life and thats all

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hella1975 · 1 year

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you ever have a fic get you in such a chokehold you start pacing your room and talking to yourself

#THIS FIC WAS WRITTEN FOR ME SPECIFICALLY #BURN IT ALL DOWN BY DOROTHYCANFLY ON AO3 THIS IS GENUINELY ONE OF MY TOP 5 FICS OF ALL TIME EVER #IT'S GOT THE BEST DABI CHARACTERISATION IVE EVER COME ACROSS IT'S GOT REALLY WELL WRITTEN DABIHAWKS #THAT FITS BOTH OF THEM LIKE THEY'RE MEAN AS HELL ABOUT IT AT FIRST #IT'S GOT STUPIDLY DEVOTED TOUYA-SHOUTO IT'S GOT PROTECTIVE BIG BROTHER TOUYA #IT'S GOT MENTAL ANGST WRITTEN LIKE A DREAM THE WRITING IN GENERAL IS INSANE #IT'S ACTION PACKED BUT DONE WELL SO THAT IT'S NOT TEDIOUS IT'S FUNNY IT'S GOT TWISTS #IT'S KEEPING ME ON MY TOES I NEVER KNOW WHAT'S COMING OR HOW FAR THE AUTHOR IS WILLING TO GO #IVE LITERALLY READ 300K WORDS IN TWO DAYS AT THIS POINT LIKE I AM ABSOLUTELY FINISHING THIS TONIGHT #WHAT THE FUCK EVEN AM I GONNA DO WITH MYSELF AFTER THIS #EVERY NEW THING THAT HAPPENS LITERALLY HAS ME GETTING UP TO PACE ABOUT #I CLOCKED OUT OF MY MUM TELLING ME OFF EARLIER BC I WAS THINKING ABOUT THIS FIC #DO U KNOW HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS BASO JUST SIGNED MY DEATH WARRANT BUT I DIDNT CARE #losing my goddamn mind respectfully <3 if anyone has read this pls yell with me about it #and if anyone knows mha and wants a fic rec PLEASE let it be this one it's my fav mha fic ever and ive read A LOT #it gets quite smutty in the middle but if that's not ur thing the author tws very well and u can kinda just scroll #so that u still get the important character developments without it being just pure smut lol #god this FIC. holding it in my fucking fist and squeezing the everloving life out of it im going INSANE #i cant remember the last time a fic got me this way im literally giggling about it all #HE FOUND A REASON TO LIVE AGAIN THEY TOOK THIS MANGLED BLOODY BOY AND SAID WE LOVE YOU #YOU ARE GOOD YOU CAN STAY YOU CAN REST NOW WE'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU AND HE CHOSE THEM! HE CHOSE THEM!#OVER HIS REVENGE AND HIS RAGE HE CHOSE THEM! IM GOING TO BE VIOLENTLY SICK #like the author LETS DABI BE A CUNT. the first chunk of the fic he's actively not a good person #and his coping mechanisms are shot to shit and we WATCH HIM GROW FROM THAT i have cried several times over the most mundane shit #goddddddddDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDAKSJFJKAGSFIUAHGJKAKG #mha #fic rec

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enhanced-operatives-division · 2 months

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Points at you. 10 and/or 11 for starstruck?

Two starstruck asks,,,,,,joy of joys,,

Part of an ask game linked here.

#10. What's an au you have for them?

Since them meeting at all is technically an AU i have 3 different ways that they do meet up. There's the one where Juniper ends up with the agency/adjacent to and ends up working with Reggie (have written a fic with this). The next one is Juniper surviving but basically going stealth and living as normal of a life as he can and ending up meeting Reggie through chance (most recent fic I've written). And then there's my personal favourite where Reginald "You're lucky my tracking skills are still up to snuff" Crane keeping himself busy after Phoenix was MIA and finding Juniper still alive (fic I want to write but haven't started mainly because it may end up multi chapter).

In terms of more AU canon bending taking them and putting them in a completely unrelated situation...I have a guilty pleasure Warrior Cats AU for IEYTD in general. Both JJ and Reggie have perfect warrior cats suffixes in their names already (Juniper and Crane) so they're called Junipersong (charcoal bengal) and Craneflight (tabby Norwegian forest cat). It's very silly but the amount of scenes I have in my mind for it...good lord...

#11. How was their first kiss like?

Augh my friend Imp wrote an absolutely excellent fic about it (tragically in the realm of unfinished Google docs) and I'm shaking their hand about it so hard. Basically Juniper kissing Reggie but he like wasn't ready/fully expecting it and Juniper absolutely panicking because he thinks he's misread every interaction between them both since they got closer. The second one is much sweeter though,,

#realised i phrased all the fics ive written like those ghosts that haunted scrooge #ah yes the fic of starstuck past #the fic of starstruck present and the fic of starstruck yet to come. it's so dumb #and uhh for the warrior cats thing um. of course they aren't purebreds minus Juniper who used to be a kittypet (housecat) but -#- it was moreso for easy description #reggie is fluffy but he's not quite maine coonf fluffy...norwegan forest cat was a nice middle ground...still gets big guy points too #also um side note roxanix in that au um. they adopted a kit as a stand in for robutler in that au......#also solaris is a VERY grumpy warrior turned medicine cat annnnd thats about all I have fully hashed out in my mind for it so far #im so torn abt also having triple threat.....extra large polycule where phoenix is just intimidated by the others prism is dating lmao #ANYWAYS ENOUGH ABOUT THE WARRIOR CATS AU #can you tell I have a special interest in cats/warrior cats. oh how I miss drawing cats. but I must learn people. for the brainworms...ouuu #i don't have much else to say on that second question other than....AUUUUUUGH they're so. there's so much pent up stuff.#like for JJ it's the first time he's let himself actually love another man the way he wants to while for Reggie it's a lot of -#- realising JJ is trying to be a better person while still ackowleging the fact that he did bad??? basically second chance yada yada #man. i love these two #ik im a broken ass reccord but I've never proactively posted abt them outside the last couple months and it's been so theraputic #ty for the ask it was fun :3c #ieytd #starstruck #junicrane #ask game #not tagging them specifically I don't wanna clog up tags too much #god WHY do i have such an issue eith that. mental issue. anyways

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moreaugriffins · 2 months

Text

Imagine Peter getting a call in the middle of the night

him thinking it's probably Ray getting excited about a definitely haunted hairbrush, and letting it ring

eventually picking it up as it continues to ring for a few minutes, only to find out it's Egon's wife

She's stressed, and worried, and Peter isn't sure why she's ringing him

But Winston isn't picking up the phone, and she knows that Egon and Ray have been arguing a lot recently so...

But she's worried

Because Egon's not doing well. He hasn't been sleeping much, or taking care of himself much (which Peter had noticed every time they went on call together), he's been muttering weird stuff, and obsessed with his notes and books, and usually she can help stop him spiralling but he's been pulling away recently, and spending less time and home and-

"He hasn't come home yet"

Egon always comes home, they made an agreement years ago. He's never broken the agreement before

So she's worried

And Peter is too

He knew Egon wasn't doing well, but they were men in their 40s, Egon wasn't a child, he could look after himself, and it was not Peter's job to monitor him. If Egon was struggling, he could speak up. He knew he could come to his friends for help

Then his mind casts back to the time in uni when Egon tried to drill a hole in his own head, how it all started just like this: the sleepless nights and obsessive studies, and pulling away from everyone, even skipping his lectures.. Peter and Ray just about got there on time.. Though Peter joked about the incident now, he's still rattled by it

He's still pretty rattled by many of Egon's vaguely suicidal experiments

He says he'll go look for Egon (after all, she's got a toddler to keep an eye on)

Reassures her that he's fine, that it'll all be fine, he probably just hyperfocused on the proton packs or something, you know how he is

It doesn't reassure her much - he doesn't even believe his own words either, but what else can he say

After the call, he heads to the Firehouse, knowing that if Egon was anywhere, it would likely be in the lab. It was practically the scientist's second home

He storms up to the lab (the place felt eerily quiet. Janine doesn't work at night anymore, Winston has his own home, and Ray has his flat above his shop)

the light is on

that's something

He opens the door, expecting to see Egon in a chaotic state (or god forbid...), and to be fair, the room is an utter mess, with books open, numbers and scripture written on the whiteboard, a pile of empty Twinkies packets around the bin stuffed full of crumpled papers

and in the middle of this mess, is Egon, head in hands, book open in front of him. It's subtle, but he can see the rise and fall of his shoulders

at least he isn't dead (he ignores how worrying that thought is)

He goes over to Egon and whacks him over the top of his head - usually an affectionate gesture from Peter (the affection is slightly lost)

"Come on Spengs, you really leaving your wife at home?"

Egon looks up at him, brows furrowed, and a practised guarded expression, though his eyes gave away the deep exhaustion and paranoia the scientist must be feeling

If it were Winston, he'd know the exact thing to say to Egon, a talk on how his actions are making his (Egon's) wife feel, and to get his act together, with the reminder that everyone was here for him

If it were Ray, despite all the arguments the two had recently, Ray would comfort him, know the exact words to calm the man and ground him back in some sense of reality - those two understood each other on a level like no other

But it was Peter here, right now

And he's not good at emotional conversations or situations. A serious conversation makes him feel like he's going to break out in hives. It's easier to joke than deal with emotions. (that's why he and Egon got on well. Neither liked talking about how they feel)

So when Egon replies with ramblings about Gozer, clearly lost and not in his right mind, Peter makes a couple jokes, he deflects from Egon's worries and brings the man down to the kitchen to make a hot chocolate to calm Egon's mind (that's what they used to do, right?)

There's more talk, mostly from Peter, about some studies he's working on (that are mostly accurate), and how Dana and Oscar are doing, and the show because oh boy does he have a story about that one man who believed he could communicate with fish-

Egon is barely engaging, Peter could see, his mind is elsewhere, running at a million miles an hour, doing complex calculations and making connections. Peter didn't envy the man really - it must be difficult having a mind so clever and loud.

So when he can tell the talking isn't working, he asks "We defeated Gozer, remember? when my girlfriend was turned into a dog, and Stay Puft got the biggest commercial for free, and we crossed the streams. He's gone forever, right?"

Egon seems to come back to reality for a moment, and they stare at each other, before Egon nods slightly and finally takes a sip of his hot chocolate.

Peter eventually drives Egon home, selfishly because he wants to keep an eye on his friend for a little longer, but Egon doesn't utter a word. That's fine. The silence makes Peter's skin itch but it seems to be doing Egon some good.

They arrive at the house (the living room lights are still on), and Egon goes to leave the car, but Peter reaches over last minute, his mouth moving faster than his brain, "All you gotta do is ask, if you need help. We're still your mates, yeah? I don't know what goes on in that brain of yours but you aren't alone."

Egon seems to be mulling something over in his head, then pulls away from Peter's grip - "Goodnight Peter." - and heads inside.

Over the next few weeks, Peter keeps an eye on Egon

He seems to slowly get better

There are no more phone calls from Egon's wife (except one to talk about what happened that night), his eyebags seem to fade away, he talks less about Gozer, the notes disappear and the books are put neatly away or are packed up, and most importantly he seems to be arguing less with the group and making an effort to spend time with them

Then he's gone

and all the equipment and Echo 1 are gone too.

#rambles #silly goofy thoughts #ghostbusters #the ghostbusters #peter venkman #egon spengler #suicide mention #tw sui attempt #(to be safe? it's the drilling a hole in his head incident and the general idea of mad scientists experimenting on themselves)#this got away from me lmao #shitty writing and somehow longer than several fanfics ive written???#i vaguely remember hearing Ray's call with Pheobe in Afterlife #and Peter's mention of 'that one time you tried to drill a hole in your head' to Egon #and thought that even if the others didn't believe Egon about Gozer - would none be slightly concerned about his mental health?#(it was a stressful time - theyre in their 40s or 50s - theyre men.. emotional intelligence is not their forte... but shhh)#and it felt like Peter out of everyone could detach himself slightly from his frustrations towards Egon and notice the signs #idk if that makes sense

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