I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.
I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.
The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...
Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.
I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.
And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?
It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.
To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.
In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.
Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.
So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.
What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.
Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?
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hc: Vessel is bad at receiving compliments and being told that he is loved (hug inspired by this one, @ghxstly-death put it into words perfectly. thank you, Eden!🫂)
Thinking about Vessel who can't accept compliments, not because he doesn't believe them (that too), but because he'd heard them so many times in the past related to small, unimpressive things. Not 'I'm proud of you', just 'You did good', an automatic response to any and all achievements. He did good. He didn't know what 'good' meant, but apparently, he did that. He has no idea what was good about what he did, so he continues to push himself, to not be a disappointment. If he does good, then that should be enough, right?
He tries for great, for excellent, for something more, but he always gets 'good', unrelated to the effort and time he put into something. He knows he shouldn't wish for more specific compliments, or anything else, really. He should be grateful to be regarded. Everyone around him is so busy, they can't possibly have time to listen to him talk about how in reality, he has no idea what he's doing. How things sometimes just click but he can't tell if what he did is actually worth anything or it was just pure luck. How he doubts himself at every step but learned to hide it, because he has to be good. And good means coping and dealing with things by himself and quietly, because then he will be told that he did good and who wouldn't want to be good?
Vessel who hears 'I love you' for the first time (said with actual love behind it for the very first time) in a really long time from II. He wouldn't tell the other that, but it's clear from the surprise and the hopeful longing in Vessel's eyes. His friend told him he loves him and he doesn't know what to do with that, so he hesitantly steps to him and begins to lift his arms in question. II's heart squeezes at his shyness, after all, the other has spent months alone in the manor, so it's understandable that he would have grown unaccustomed to touch. But then II has to pull Vessel against him, because the man sort of hovers his arms around his frame as if he doesn't know how to approach a hug. Like he isn't sure what is expected of him and what is too much.
Vessel is surprised when II squeezes around his torso, when he brings one arm around his shoulder and the other to his neck, trying to bring Vessel down towards him, like he wants to protect and shelter him. That's strange, but Vessel finds that his arms want to stay wrapped loosely around II a bit longer and just as he starts to pull away, II again says "I love you, Vessel", and Vessel's brain freezes. II squeezes him tighter and Vessel feels so warm and strangely loose (he's afraid he will unravel if he stays too close for too long) and small even though he towers over his friend. His friend who is now holding him and who apparently loves him.
The only thing in his mind stumbles from his tongue in the form of a quiet "Why?". He didn't do anything exceptional. He was showing II an arrangement and said he wasn't sure if it was any good, letting his fingers dance over the keys, feeling like he was stumbling through music. He felt like it captured that familiar insecurity, and he liked it and hoped II would like it, too. Even if it didn't make it into a song. Then II said he did like it, that it feels like Vessel is unsure but it gives the melody a unique flavor, and that Vessel was great for translating that feeling into music.
"'Why?' ?" II's answering question is filled with such disbelief that Vessel wants to hide. He said something inappropriate, something secret that had previously only been dwelling in his mind, in a dark corner, and now he feels exposed. Why did he even open his mouth? Not good. Definitely bad.
Vessel is slumping against II a bit, like he doesn't know how to hold himself upright anymore, like he needs support. II must feel it, because he's still holding him, and it's been minutes and Vessel tries to squirm away, to save any dignity he might still possess, and II lets him slip out of the embrace, but his arms linger like he doesn't want to let go of his friend. His friend who just blurted out the worst response to a confession of gentle affection. Vessel looks so worried when he catches II's gaze and he immediately averts his eyes and takes a few small steps back, unconsciously gravitating towards his piano for protection, a sense of safety.
"You're my friend, Vessel," II tries approaching the man with soft words, "You're kind and considerate and a damn good musician," Vessel stops backing away when the back of his legs hit the edge of his piano bench, but he's still looking at the floor, "You pour your heart into writing and playing and it's amazing to see. You're committed, but patient and you help me every time I need. Even when I'm too embarrassed to ask," II tilts his head and steps a bit closer to try and catch Vessel's gaze, "I know you don't see it and I'm sorry that you can't because it's true. I would never lie to you about this, Ves. I love you, you're my best friend," Vessel presses his lips together, so II adds, "Not just because we live in the middle of bumfuck nowhere. You're the best friend I've ever had. And I'm glad Sleep led me to you."
Vessel gives him a look that shows he tries really hard to believe him, and adds in such a low voice it's almost a whisper, "I love you, too," as if he's embarrassed to admit it. But it's not embarrassment, II realizes, it's disbelief, it's some sort of deep shame about needing someone else, of relying on anyone else but himself at all times. And it makes sense, considering Vessel's nature, but II could never put it all together, since large chunks of Vessel's past were unfamiliar to him. He could have guessed based on how the man acted, but he didn't want to assume anything. It felt disrespectful. Vessel would share if he wanted.
"And I'm really glad you found me," just a beat of silence, before he adds, in an even quieter tone, if that's possible, "And that you stayed," Vessel risks a bashful glance towards II, and sees him blink rapidly, shocked by the implication of the other's words, before he shakes himself and steps closer to Vessel. He searches his face for apprehension, but doesn't find any, so he gently puts his hands on Vessel's upper arms and sits him down on his bench. Before Vessel can react, II has his arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other's hand cupping the back of his head and cradling it to his front.
"You're important to me, Ves. You're special and precious and I love you," II's fingers caress the man's shoulder and card through his hair, "I want you to know that I'm here for you any time, okay?" Vessel is still stunned and he's sure he's going catch on fire if he gets any warmer. II twists a lock of hair around his finger, "Okay?" Words form and die in Vessel's throat so he just nods, rapidly, almost hurriedly, and II lets out a small chuckle. "You're amazing, you know that?" he nuzzles into Vessel's hair for a moment to murmur, "And adorable," II sways with the man in his arms a little and Vessel is sure he will combust. His face is flaming against II's shirt and he tries to suppress the half grimace-half grin on his face and feels unreal. "C'mon. Tea break?" II smiles down at him and offers a hand. Vessel can stand on his own, but doesn't reject the offer. He likes the warmth of II's hand and he can always use the stability and the reminder of the other's presence. II soon replaces his hand with a mug of tea, but it's considerably colder to Vessel. The contrast is especially palpable when II brushes his knuckles against Vessel's as he's handing him his tea. The mug is warm, but II's skin is burning against his. But it's not bad. It's a good burn. It makes Vessel feel alive. Seen. Loved?
Vessel learns that he doesn't have to prove himself to other people to receive love. Love is not something that has to be earned in their home. Love is not a reward, not something that Vessel has to work for, then be disappointed that in the end, it isn't actually given to him. He tried being good in the past, being silent and keeping his head down and being a good kid, but the warmth and the unconditional love didn't come. He still tried, though, he always tried his best, but apparently that wasn't enough. Or there wasn't actually love at the end of that tunnel. It was just a play of light. But that would have been cruel and Vessel would like to think that people in his past weren't intentionally unkind to him (he won't admit the truth to himself for a while).
II often tells Vessel that he's proud of him. For speaking up. For telling him when he's having a bad day. For asking for distance when he needs it and closeness when he feels like he will drift away. For admitting to messing up, when he falls back into bad habits of self-destruction and isolation. For doing a grocery run by himself even though he goes home almost shaking and has to spend the next hours under a blanket on the couch, because it was simply too much. For crying when he talks about memories that he tried his hardest to forget but he just can't. For asking for help and letting II help him, even though it's hard. It's really hard, and Vessel apologizes for it, for being fucked-up and broken and damaged goods. For wasting II's time and being a burden, a needy, greedy thing. Wretched. Minus human.
But II tells him he loves him and that he could never be a burden. That he will always be worth it, he always has been, and that he's sorry that people in Vessel's past couldn't see it. Couldn't see him for all that he is. For the friend who pays attention to little details so he can show his friend how much he values him. For the guy who bakes his friend a complicated cake for his birthday because he off-handedly told him he can't even remember what it tasted like, even though it used to be his favorite. For the amazing composer who can capture emotions one doesn't realize one has. For the hard-working, curious kid who thought that being obedient and not questioning authority was the way to earn praise and affection. For the little boy who thought something was wrong with him, that he did or didn't do something and that is why he couldn't feel loved. For the child who cried and cried, silent and under the cover of the night, hoping that no one would hear (and secretly hoping that somebody would and they would come and save him from the gaping emptiness that made its home in his chest, way too big and scary for a boy that little). For the boy and then the man who couldn't cry anymore but thought that that is more than alright, at least he can finally keep it all inside. For the partner who allowed himself to be vulnerable with someone he trusted. For the partner who made sure his other knew he was always welcome, even though his brain sometimes tried to tell him otherwise. For the partner who grew comfortable with expressing casual affection so much that terms like 'darling' became second nature to him (and for the way he blushed when II told him that). For the man who learned to accept that it's okay to admit to not being okay, to need someone, to want to not feel alone, to feel cherished, to have his feelings validated. For the man who can tell his partner anything and does, because he knows he can speak his mind and that there will be someone who listens.
II wanted to see Vessel. Vessel let him. Even before he showed the uglier and less than perfect parts of himself, II loved him all the same. It was never about being 'good' and silent and compliant. Vessel is good. Vessel is not good. He's amazing. He's perfect. He's wonderful. He's cherished. He's incredible. He's valued. He's seen. He's listened to. He's heard. He's finally, finally loved. Has been for longer than he dared to think. Will soon be by more people than he thought possible.
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I fear to stain your clothes with blood/Stain them. I don't care
Chapter 1
Look.
Maybe Wilbur didn't love going to camp.
Maybe he would whine, and complain, and annoy the crap out of Phil and Techno on the 3-hour car ride.
But!
That did not mean he hated it.
Sure it was far from the most enjoyable experience in the world.
But sue him, the kids gave him some small shred of hope for humanity that he was oh so desperately lacking.
It also helped that Tommy adored Camp Essempi. He had practically grown up there, been tagging along every summer since he was 7 after Phil bought the place.
So now Wilbur found himself in his dad's grey van, listening to The Artic Monkeys at a very unhealthy volume, while he could see Techno gesturing in the seat in front of him.
If he had to guess, Tech was probably monologuing about some new book he read or what he was planning for the campers or something.
Wilbur didn't really care.
Tommy was directly next to him, and his head was now resting on his shoulder, where it had been slowly creeping toward for the past hour, in spite of him claiming, "Fuck you Wil! I'm not tired at all bitch!"
They really needed to work on his swearing problem.
But that was for another day.
Right now Wilbur had to worry about how to stay sane with 2 more hours left on this car trip.
He debated trying to read a book he brought but considering the last time he'd tried reading a book in the car they'd had to pull over so he could throw up, he decided not to risk it.
Listen to Techno rant? Wilbur thinks he'd rather take the vomit at that point.
He eventually just decides to take the easy way out.
Turning his music down slightly, he lays his head on top of Tommy's, stretching the blanket he'd been hogging across them both, and letting his eyes shut.
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By the time he woke up, they were only 30 minutes away from camp, and Tommy was still dead to the world.
Techno had fallen asleep at this point too, his head lolling so his long hair fell over the edge of the car seat.
How he lived with it that long Wilbur would never know.
He removed one of his earbuds and was met with the soft sound of Here Comes the Sun drifting from the radio, Phil humming along quietly.
A few seconds later, his dad looked up and saw him awake.
"Oh Wil!" Phil said, smiling, "Didn't see that you were up. We stopped at McDonald's about 15 minutes ago and got some fries for you, figured you'd be hungry."
Wilbur immediately brightened and maybe grabby hands at his father.
"Gimme food," he said, with all the eloquence of a toddler.
Phil chuckled and handed over the brown paper bag.
"Save some for Tommy, you know he'll be starving when he wakes up, and who knows what that will entail."
Wilbur nodded solemnly, suddenly reminded of the last long car trip they'd taken.
A few minutes into starting on the fries, he felt Tommy stir beside him.
"Ugh, do I smell food?" Tommy asked, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Always hungry never satisfied," said Wilbur, which was not entirely inaccurate. Tommy ate like a fiend.
"Ey!" Tommy blurted out, his head immediately shooting up and his hands raising. "Just cus you're as small as a twig doesn't mean I have to be. Plus I heard Niki's running some of the sports stuff and I am NOT doing that on an empty stomach."
Wilbur had to give him that, Niki, one of his old camp friends and now first-year counselor, was one of the nicest people he'd ever met, but also incredibly badass.
She'd been one of Techno's favorite campers, and he, in turn, had been her favorite counselor, which meant she was an expert in most combat-based camp stuff.
She terrified Wilbur and Tommy alike.
Techno too, but he would only admit that to her.
"Fine fine gremlin child take your food," huffed Wilbur, handing over the bag.
Tommy grinned evilly up at him and began shoveling the food into his mouth like an animal, a raccoon perhaps. Or maybe a possum.
Wilbur couldn't help but grimace and turn his attention back towards his older brother and father, who, now that Techno had woken up too, were discussing camp setup.
"Listen, Phil," one of Techno's quirks, he almost never called Phil dad. "We have more campers this year, we're gonna need to buy some more stuff."
Phil shook his head, "It'll be fine Tech. And if not, we'll go out and get stuff. And anyway, it's not so much supplies I'm worried about but space. I think we'll have to raid some of the unused cabins for cots. The last thing I wanna do is force kids to sleep on the floor, "said Phil, chuckling.
"It would be good for them, " Wilbur chimed in, "Builds character."
Phil laughed.
"C'mon Wil, let's not give them scoliosis too early on in the summer."
"As I just stated, character building."
"Wilbur I swear to god."
The last 20 minutes of the drive were spent bickering about random topics or singing along to Hamilton.
The latter was, of course, Wilbur's request.
But Tommy joined in too.
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The sudden sound of crunching gravel alerted Wilbur to their imminent arrival at Essempi, a sound that bore equal parts joy and pain in his mind.
It was at this point Tommy began bouncing off the walls, it was honestly a miracle he's lasted this long.
Usually about 2 hours in they had to stop for 15 minutes and just putter around a gas station.
Fortunately, Tommy had stayed up late last night with Wilbur, going over rules and his luggage over and over again to make sure he didn't forget anything.
But once rested, Tommy's energy made a full recovery, and as soon as they had gotten their luggage out of the car he was full-on sprinting towards their cabin.
Wilbur however, did not not follow so eagerly.
Unlike Tommy, car trips didn't make him stir crazy, but rather tired, lethargic, and dead on his feet.
So, grumbling, he hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and grabbed his duffle, before trudging down the path behind his little brother.
It didn't take long for his dad and Techno to catch up, his older brother giving him a small pat on his shoulder before moving past.
Phil on the other hand, fell into stride alongside Wilbur and started humming Dear Theodosia, one of his favorites.
"How are you feeling Wil?"
The words startled him, he hadn't exactly been expecting conversation.
"Uh, fine?" he said, with a slight question in his tone.
"I mean, a bit tired but nothing horrible."
Phil nodded, "OK. Just let us know if you need anything."
Wilbur couldn't help the small sigh that escaped him.
He understood that his dad meant well. That he genuinely cared and wanted to help. But this was not what Wilbur needed.
He never did well at the whole talking about your feelings thing. That was definitely Phil's department, and something he always encouraged in his kids. But somehow Wilbur never got the hand of that particular skill.
He didn't think any of them did really.
But he didn't say this, or anything remotely similar.
Instead, he just nodded and said softly, "Alright, thanks dad."
Phil smiled, laid a hand on Wilbur's shoulder, gave a small squeeze, and then he was gone.
Wilbur paused for a second, looking around at the slowly darkening sky, where the first glimpses of stars were visible.
He glanced at the trees, shaking in the slight breeze that was making him glad he wore a hoodie.
And finally, he looked back down the path, where beams of warm light could now be seen.
Wilbur took a deep inhale, readjusted his bag, and continued walking.
It was gonna be a long couple of months.
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